Sweet as the Devil Page 6

  “I believe the phrase is I’m doing it for your own good,” Rosalind sportively countered. “Now remember, the Worth gown.” Then she quickly changed the subject, having successfully accomplished her mission. It wasn’t that she was seriously matchmaking. Sofia was beyond such foolishness. Rather, Rosalind felt that Dex would offer her dearest friend the kind of informal relationship she preferred. Sexual, unpredictable, spirited. Also, anyone who had put up with Helene for so many years was either indifferent to his wife or eligible for sainthood. Neither exactly the style of man Sofia fancied, but Dex was also incredibly handsome, charming, and most important, according to Fitz, a favorite with the ladies who were partial to sexual amusements.

  AFTER ARRIVING IN London, Jamie took a cab directly from the station to Ernst’s home in Belgravia, and jumping down from the carriage, crossed the pavement and greeted the two guards at the front door. The men were in uniform and heavily armed. “Ernst must be expecting trouble. How many of you came to London?”

  “Twenty,” his cousin Douglas replied.

  “Stationed?”

  “Front door and back, at the garden gate, two at the stables. The others are resting between watches.”

  “How is he?”

  “The same.” Another cousin shrugged. “You wouldn’t know anything had happened—no surprise there. You arrived just in time. He’s about to go out.”

  “We’ll talk later.” Jamie lifted the knocker, let it fall, and shoved the door open.

  “Ah, there you are.” The prince was in the entrance hall putting on his gloves. “You made excellent time.” Stripping off his gloves, he handed them to a servant and shrugged out of his coat. As a flunkey took his coat, he waved Jamie forward. “We’ll go into my study.”

  Moments later, Jamie closed the study door behind him. “My condolences, sir.”

  “Thank you,” Ernst replied with his usual composure, his grey gaze blank, his tall, lean form motionless, his pale hair vivid in the dimly lit room.

  “I would have liked to have come to the funeral.” With nearly ten years separating them in age, Rupert had been Jamie’s shadow growing up.

  “There was no need. The boy was gone. Whiskey?” Abruptly turning away, Ernst moved toward the liquor table.

  Picking up a decanter and glasses, he waved Jamie to two leather club chairs by the window and poured them drinks. Handing Jamie his, he switched on a table lamp and took his seat. “I didn’t mean to be curt. I appreciate your sympathy. But Rupert was murdered. Out of pure greed,” he bitterly added.

  Jamie’s shock was plain. “Are you sure? He didn’t have an enemy in the world.”

  “He was garroted; the marks were plain.”

  “Jesus,” Jamie whispered, trying to make sense of such gross violence. “Could it have been some heinous mistake?”

  “No. Von Welden wants Dalmia,” Ernst replied without a trace of emotion, his grief having given way to an icy vengeance.

  “Did he say why?” Von Welden was not someone one wanted for an enemy.

  “He said he liked the sea,” Ernst said drily. “An obvious lie. But there’s no question that he offered to buy the duchy.”

  “Fucking vulture. He couldn’t even wait until your mourning was over?” Jamie pursed his lips in a grim line. “You’re not selling, are you?”

  “What do you think?” the prince acidly replied.

  “I think you want an eye for an eye. We both do.”

  “I want him to suffer. Understood?”

  “I’ll find the Albanian to flay him alive.” Jamie’s voice was cold as ice. “Hajdu’s the best. I’ll see if I can track him down. If he’s in hiding somewhere, I’ll do it myself.”

  “I’ll leave the details up to you.”

  It was approval and consent. “The planning will require some time. Our esteemed minister of police is guarded like a harem houri,” Jamie noted. “Although, come to think of it,” he added, “Von Welden’s latest inamorata might be useful. Katia hates him. Von Welden exiled her rebel brother to that godforsaken prison monastery at Heiligenkreuz. She’ll cooperate if we guarantee her and her brother’s safety. I’ll talk to her.”

  “Not just yet. More pressing matters brought me to London.”

  Jamie hoped like hell it wasn’t some woman, although with Ernst’s track record, he wouldn’t be surprised. On the other hand, he was a bodyguard, not a priest. “What sort of matters?”

  “I have to find someone.”

  “Male or female? Friendly or dangerous?”

  “Female, and I’m hoping friendly,” Ernst said with a smile.

  Oh Christ, it is a woman.

  Unaware of Jamie’s misgivings, Ernst raised his glass as though to underscore the significance of his remark. “Do you believe in miracles?”

  “No, and you don’t either.”

  “You’re right. I didn’t.” The prince leaned forward, a rare earnestness in his gaze. “But something unusual happened to me during my meeting with Von Welden. An idea came to me out of the blue—a vision, revelation, call it what you will. I may be able to secure the future of the duchy.”

  “An heir, you mean.” The covenant was well-known to the Blackwood family. “Need I remind you that legitimacy is required?” Ernst was a libertine of wide and democratic scope.

  “No, you needn’t,” Ernst replied with another startling smile.

  Jamie’s brows rose.

  “My miracle concerns the magic of first love.”

  “Are you drunk?” Ernst and love were incompatible.

  The prince smiled again, which was several more smiles than Jamie had seen in years.

  “You don’t think I could love?”

  “Jesus,” Jamie muttered. “What do you want me to say?”

  “Have you ever been in love?”

  “Hell no.”

  “Well, I was once.” The prince looked away for a moment, overcome by nostalgia. “We spent a summer together in the Lake Country,” Ernst went on in a conversational tone, having regained his composure. “It was sheer paradise. None were happier; we made glorious plans for the future: marriage, children, eternal bliss. Unfortunately, my family didn’t agree. Amelia was unacceptable, British, a commoner; my parents were inflexible, Mother in particular—”

  “And you married her anyway.”

  The prince met Jamie’s quizzing gaze and nodded.

  “Then you later divorced?”

  “No.” Ernst shrugged. “Amelia may have, but it doesn’t alter the circumstances.”

  Jamie’s eyes widened slightly. “Which means your marriage to the Princess of Bohemia—”

  “Was bigamous.” Another shrug. “No longer of any consequence, of course, with Marie dead these many years—and now Rupert. And frankly, money buys anything at the Vatican, so I knew if problems arose, they could be remedied.”

  “Are you sure your English marriage was legal?”

  “We were married in the Austrian embassy—secretly, of course. The few people who were involved could be trusted.”

  Jamie softly whistled. “An unforseen obstacle for Von Welden. Not that he couldn’t have you both killed.”

  “I’m sure he’ll consider it, but we’ll deal with him later. I’m about to meet my daughter.”

  “A daughter? You knew?” Jamie’s voice held mild surprise and at the last a flatness.

  “I heard about her birth shortly after my marriage to Marie. I attempted to write and send funds, but my letters and bank drafts were returned. I was distrait of course, angry, too, and resentful. Then life intervened, and I’m ashamed to say I eventually forgot.” He blew out a small breath. “I don’t have to tell you how irresponsible I am.”

  Jamie politely refrained from responding. “What if this long-lost daughter isn’t interested in becoming your heir?” he asked instead. “What if she has a perfectly agreeable life? What if her mother taught her to hate you?”

  “You know as well as I do that a princely title and a vast fortune will likely c
hange anyone’s mind,” Ernst replied with assurance of considerable experience. “Or if she proves difficult, you can help me persuade her.”

  Jamie put up his hands. “Acquit me. You’re her father.” “I could insist.”

  “You could try.”

  Ernst laughed. “You’re as stubborn as your hardheaded father.”

  “I guard you. I’m not your keeper.”

  “Sometimes you are.” Jamie was his voice of reason on occasion.

  “Not in this.”

  “Very well, be obstinate,” Ernst said with another of those surprising smiles Jamie was seeing frequently. “But consider, you’ll be guarding me when I speak to her.”

  “No. I’ll be outside the room.”

  Ernst grinned. “Sometimes I don’t think you know your place.”

  “Most times. Remember, I don’t need this job.”

  “As you often tell me, you impertinent cub. Come, we’ll have another drink and I’ll explain what the detectives know about my wife and daughter.” He was beaming as he reached for the bottle. “As you can see, just thinking about my daughter puts me in an extremely good mood.”

  “I’m pleased for you,” Jamie said with genuine affection. “Not that anyone can ever replace Rupert, but I admit, there’s joy in fucking over Von Welden.”

  “I’ll drink to that.” Ernst refilled their glasses.

  In the course of the next hour Jamie heard the entire story of Ernst’s early love affair and marriage, the current state of the search for Amelia and her daughter, and the prince’s intentions to disclose to his daughter that she was heiress to the duchy of Dalmia.

  As Ernst finished his explanation, the clock chimed as if on cue, and looking up, he said, “Christ, I’m late for dinner with Rutledge. We’ll talk again in the morning. Say, eleven?”

  Having gone without sleep since yesterday, Jamie readily agreed.

  CHAPTER 7

  ERNST’S GOOD CHEER was obvious when Jamie was shown into his study at eleven. An aberrant state with which Jamie was becoming familiar.

  “Good news, I gather.”

  “Yes, yes, the best. Sit. I’ll have Sims get you coffee.” Walking over to the bellpull, he gave it a tug. “I’ve had too much already as you can no doubt see,” he said, waving Jamie to a chair with an expansive gesture. “But the reports are excellent.”

  “In what way?” Jamie dropped into a sprawl in a club chair and contemplated Ernst as he nervously paced.

  “They unearthed more information on Amelia. She’s lived with an artist for years. They aren’t married—which suggests, perhaps, she never divorced me. It could be lack of funds, although that’s neither here nor there,” Ernst added with a flick of his fingers as he swung back from his desk. “The point is—there’s no question that my daughter is legitimate.”

  “Your men made contact with Amelia?”

  “No, she’s in the country somewhere, but a neighbor was talkative. Apparently, Amelia’s an artist of some note—as is my daughter, Sofia, who, according to the neighbor, is quite a beauty.”

  Jamie slid upright in his chair, a sudden attentiveness in his gaze. “Your daughter doesn’t use your surname, does she?”

  “No, no—her mother’s. Eastleigh.”

  “Small world.”

  Ernst came to an abrupt stop. “You know her?”

  “I’ve met her.” Now he knew why he’d responded to Sofia Eastleigh with such familiarity. “She has your color hair and Rupert’s eyes—that cool shade of blue is distinctive.”

  “What did you think of her?” The prince dropped into a nearby chair and leaned forward in his excitement.

  That she’s extremely fuckable. “I met her at Countess Minton’s—you remember Bella. Your daughter was painting her portrait. She’s a superb artist, no question.”

  “And?” Ernst impatiently queried. “What does she look like? Does she speak well? How does she carry herself? Does she have Rupert’s smile? Coffee for Blackwood, Sims,” he said as the door opened. “Go on, tell me more,” he briskly commanded once the door shut on the servant.

  “She was working, so she didn’t converse much, and Bella was chattering the whole while. She is very beautiful, delicate and slender. She seemed pleasant. And come to think of it, she smiled very like Rupert.”

  “With that mischievous quirk of the mouth, I’ll wager. I can’t tell you how excited I am to meet her. I’m hoping Thurgood can locate her soon. She didn’t come home last night,” he added, a note of unease in his voice. “You don’t suppose Von Welden—”

  “No—not yet,” Jamie quickly interposed. “He’s neither that clever nor efficient. I wouldn’t be concerned about Miss Eastleigh’s absence. She gave the impression of being independent—a modern woman as they say. A common enough quality in the sisterhood of the avant-garde art world.”

  “Yes, yes, no doubt you’re right. Her mother had a streak of independence as well, although she was a complete darling in every way.” Ernst sighed. “If not for family duty . . .”

  “And the intervening females who served to divert your interests,” Jamie sardonically interposed. “A convenient amnesia if you ask me.”

  Ernst surveyed his ADC with a jaundiced gaze. “May I remind you that a lecture from a libertine lacks credence. However, I understand your point. I intend to remedy my fatherly inattention forthwith.”

  “In that case, we’re going to need more men to cover both you and Miss Eastleigh. It’s only a matter of time before Von Welden picks up your scent.”

  “I’m afraid the principessa has stolen a march on Von Welden.” Ernst lifted one shoulder in an expression of futility. “I’d forgotten that her lady-in-waiting is related to my secretary’s wife. Antonella cabled this morning. I’m to meet her at the station tomorrow.”

  “I see.” As a rule Ernst didn’t respond to orders from his lovers.

  “No, you don’t,” the prince observed, mindful of Jamie’s insinuation. “It’s nothing out of the ordinary. Antonella’s simply more audacious than most.”

  Jamie dipped his head. “A charming quality in a woman.” “Indeed. Now how soon before the additional troopers arrive?”

  “Two days.”

  “Then you must personally guard my daughter. She’s in the most danger.”

  “Douglas is fully capable of protecting her.” He preferred keeping his distance. Miss Eastleigh was forbidden fruit.

  “I disagree.” The prince’s voice took on an edge. “Need I remind you of your promise to your father?”

  Jamie drew in a small breath, exhaled, and reluctantly said, “No, you need not.” The eldest male in Jamie’s family had personally guarded the Princes of Battenberg for over a century.

  Ernst smiled. “I knew I could count on you. Now you may stop scowling at me. I’m sure my daughter won’t give you any trouble.”

  If I were a eunuch. “I’ll do my best, sir,” he said with more hope than certainty. Sofia Eastleigh was not only beautiful but also a flirt.

  Ernst looked up as a servant entered the room. “Thank you, Sims. None for me.”

  The men waited while a tray was set down beside Jamie and the servant withdrew.

  The prince leaned forward and patted Jamie’s knee. “Come, my boy, no sulks. Humor me. My daughter’s safety is of vital importance as you and I both know. I depend on you completely.”

  Jamie offered the prince a well-bred smile. “As you wish, sir.” Chafing under his new orders, he picked up the cup of coffee that had been poured for him, drank it down, set the cup aside, and came to his feet. “I’ll talk to the men and see that everyone understands the situation. How much do you want me to tell them?”

  “Tell them that I’ve discovered my long-lost daughter and she’ll require sufficient protection to guard her against those who murdered Rupert. As to the details, I’ll leave them up to you. I intend to acknowledge her before the world as soon as possible and hopefully forestall Von Welden.”

  “A temporary deterrent at best
,” Jamie warned.

  “I understand. If she agrees, I’d like to spirit her away to safety until we can deal with Von Welden.”

  “If she agrees.”

  The prince smiled. “I’m sure you can convince her.” “Jesus, Ernst, unlike you, I don’t believe in miracles.”

  “Nevertheless, I have complete faith in you.”

  “Wildly misplaced,” Jamie grumbled.

  “My dear boy, every female in Vienna has thrown herself at your feet. And my understanding is that you’ve not turned any of them away.” Ernst grinned. “I envy your stamina.”

  “This is different.”

  “I can’t see how.”

  “She’s your daughter.”

  “Didn’t you say she was a woman of independence. Why don’t we let her decide?”

  “No, Ernst. You ask too much.”

  “To want my daughter safe?” Ernst blandly remarked. “I don’t understand where moral scruples come into play when it’s a matter of practicality. But I see you have your hackles up.” His smile was benign. “I’ll allow you your principles.”

  “Thank you,” Jamie gruffly said, not sure what repulsed him more: Ernst’s venal worldliness or his unbridled selfishness.

  The prince softly laughed. “Off with you, my pious young man. When I have news of my daughter, I’ll send for you.”

  Prince Ernst had not lived a licentious life for so long without having discovered that human frailty was most vulnerable when passion, desire, and willfulness coalesced. His handsome young ADC attracted women like the moon the tides, while his daughter apparently was predisposed to willfulness.

  What better collaboration to insure her safety?

  UNAWARE OF THE momentous events in the offing, Sofia spent another day in the country, finishing a landscape she’d begun the previous day. Engrossed in her work, she lost track of time, and only when the afternoon sun began to cool did she recall her dinner appointment at Rosalind’s.

  “Jessie! We have to go!” she shouted to the young boy who fetched and carried for her and drove her little cart. “I’m late, late, late!”

  An hour later, Jessie dropped her off at her cottage in Chelsea and drove around to her studio in back to dispose of the canvas and painting supplies.