The Princess and the Pea Read online

  “You understand that now, do you?” His eyes twinkled annoyingly.

  She slanted him a stern gaze. “However, understanding does not mean acceptance. My personal views have not changed. I still believe men should work for their fortune.”

  “Cece, I do not consider courting you work.” He grinned. “Invigorating, exciting, exasperating perhaps, but definitely not work.”

  “It seems to me that a marriage to restore a family’s wealth is not unlike a business arrangement. Yes, indeed,” she nodded firmly, “it is definitely a business proposition.”

  “Business,” he said, “is not at all how I’d characterize the proposition I’m interested in.”

  She ignored him pointedly. “Regardless, it is a business deal and I propose to go about it as such.”

  A teasing light glimmered in his eye. “Just what do you have in mind?”

  “Well…” She chose her words with care. It was one thing to throw minor obstacles in the course of an easy courtship but quite another to discourage him altogether. While she could well declare love had nothing to do with the arrangement of their marriage, love was the only thing she could count on to compel him to agree with her proposal. She suspected he would not bother with the trouble of a difficult pursuit were it not for that heady emotion. “My father says a sound business deal is advantageous to both sides.”

  “A wise man, your father,” Jared murmured.

  “I think so,” she said, pleased with his cooperation, or at least his attention, thus far. “Both parties need to benefit. Each needs to achieve what he, or she, desires. In this case, the gain on your side is obvious.”

  “So, I believe, is the benefit on yours. Most ladies of my acquaintance would consider your gain by our marriage more than sufficient reason for the, ah, merger.” He tipped his hat to a carriage full of giggling young women presided over by a dour-faced matron who acknowledged Jared’s attention with a condescending smile. “Let’s see…you would acquire an old and respected title. You would assume an enviable position in British society. You would become mistress of Graystone Castle, as well as a somewhat impressive London mansion. Add to that a husband who loves—”

  “Love,” she said sharply, “has noth—”

  “I know, I know,” he said with an exasperated sigh, “love has nothing to do with it.”

  “There is no room in business for an emotion that befuddles the mind and clouds the senses,” she said primly.

  “Are your senses clouded?” His gaze held hers, and for a moment she wanted nothing more than to lose herself in the rich sapphire promise of his eyes.

  “Not at all,” she said, in a tone just a shade higher than she wished.

  “What do you want, Cece?” How on earth could a voice be so soft yet so laden with meaning she could only guess at?

  What did she want? She wanted the warmth of his lips on hers. She wanted to surrender to the odd ache that permeated her body whenever he so much as spoke her name. She wanted to be by his side and, God help her, in his bed for the rest of her days.

  Anything achieved too easily is valued too lightly.

  She wrenched her gaze from his and drew a deep, steadying breath, resisting the impulse to shake her head to revive her senses. Resolve coursed through her. She really had to work harder at disregarding the traitorous emotions he triggered.

  She smoothed an invisible wrinkle in her skirt. “In return for my allowing you to commence with this courtship—”

  He raised a brow. “Am I to understand this business deal of yours only permits courtship, not necessarily marriage?”

  “Honestly, Jared”—she shook her head in annoyance—“of course marriage naturally follows courtship. But, in the meantime, you are to proceed with a proper courtship as well as agree to my proposition. The two go hand in hand.”

  “I have yet to meet your father, but I suspect he must be proud of you. You obviously know how to drive a hard bargain.” Jared laughed. “Please continue.”

  “I am quite serious about this, Jared,” she said indignantly.

  “And I am taking it quite seriously.” The corners of his mouth quirked, as if he suppressed a smile, belying the solemn tone of his words.

  She struggled against a rising tide of irritation at his obvious amusement. “What I want is something you alone can provide.” She paused thoughtfully. “Well, no, I suppose someone else could do it, but if you’re to become my husband, you’re the only one I would even consider approaching. Especially to begin. I find the very thought terribly exciting, and I always knew one day the opportunity would arise. When you think about it, it’s not such a big thing. Really a simple service of sorts.”

  “A service?” His eyes widened and he nearly choked the word.

  She pulled her brows together in annoyance. “You needn’t look like that. It’s not as if I was asking you to risk life and limb. I merely wish for you to teach me to drive your automobile.”

  “My automobile.” Relief suffused his face, followed slowly by a growing comprehension. “My automobile?”

  “Yes, Jared. Your automobile.” She cast him a pleasant smile that masked the satisfaction prompted by his response. Now he would take her concerns seriously. Now he was obviously no longer amused.

  “My automobile?” Jared repeated the words in a stunned tone.

  “I believe we have established that.”

  “But…” He had the trapped look of a child caught in the act of stealing a cookie and desperately trying to make the crime appear less than it was. Abruptly, his expression cleared and a smug note sounded in his voice. “I attempted to teach you once. If I recall, that did not turn out at all well. I hardly think a repeat performance is called for to convince both of us of the futility of such a task.”

  “Nonetheless,” she said airily and smiled in response to a rider who tipped his hat, “that’s what I want.”

  “But my automobile.” Sheer panic shone in his eyes. “It’s not a toy, Cece.”

  “Nor is this the request of a child.” Patience colored her words.

  “The last time I attempted to teach you to drive, you ended up in the pond. With my motorcar.” His lips compressed to an unyielding line. “It took the better part of a week to clean it up and get it operating again.”

  “It is entirely possible I was not paying the proper amount of attention at the time. And I believe we’ve already established that your instructions were less than adequate.”

  “Cece, what you’re asking is absurd. If nothing else, our initial experience should point that out.” His voice held a note of desperation common to men who understand their arguments are fruitless. “Surely something else would serve as well as teaching you to drive? Some other task?” His expression brightened. “I say, I have an idea.”

  “An interesting idea?”

  He nodded enthusiastically. “Undoubtedly. What about a nice, traditional quest?”

  “A quest?”

  “Yes, you know.” He grinned cockily. “We British are excellent at quests. Why, we’ve been questing for centuries. Slaying dragons, rescuing damsels in distress, that sort of thing.”

  “Specifically, what kind of quest did you have in mind?” she said, intrigued in spite of herself.

  “What kind of quest?” He echoed her words as if repeating her question gave him needed time to come up with an answer. She could almost see the tiny wheels and gears, similar to those of his automobile, churning in his head. “What kind of quest…”

  “Indeed, Jared.” She stifled a grin of delight. The man was definitely already working for his fortune. “What kind of quest?”

  “The Earls of Greystone have partaken of countless quests through the ages; surely one of those would serve in our circumstance.” He paused, as if to recall the details of his family history. “You must realize, Cece, while it is true that, through the centuries, many of my ancestors have married to bolster the family fortune or to cement alliances, they have nearly as often married for love. An
d that typically involves a quest of some sort to win the hand of the lady in question.”

  “And those quests?” she prompted.

  “One earl was forced to defeat all comers at the king’s tournament to claim his bride. Another found it necessary to rescue his lady love from the evil clutches of a rival.”

  “A rival.” Cece tapped her bottom lip with the tip of her forefinger and adopted an expression of consideration. “That does show promise. A rival would certainly keep you on your toes. Yes, indeed, I can see how that might—”

  “On further thought, a rival is not an option here.” He narrowed his eyes and glared in irritation. “Isn’t there anything else, Cece, I can do to save my life, my sanity and my automobile?”

  “Well, I suppose you could slay a dragon for me.” An immediate vision of Lady Olivia sprang to her mind and she pushed aside the unworthy thought.

  “Dragons are a rare commodity these days.” His voice was mournful and he heaved the heavy sigh of a man about to admit defeat. “Very well,” a tone befitting a sacrificial lamb tinged his words, “I shall attempt to teach you to drive.”

  “Excellent, Jared.” She leaned toward him and cast him an innocent glance. “Just try and think of it…as a quest.”

  “Quest? Hah! You prefer a man who acquires his wealth through hard work and you have set me the one task guaranteed to be the most difficult I’ve ever encountered. Teaching a woman to drive…” He shook his head, disgust evident on his handsome face. He glared at the horses before him, as if the well-trained beasts were to blame for his predicament.

  Once again Cece was hard pressed to suppress a grin. She turned her face away from him and perused the passing scenery. This was all quite delightful. Jared’s reaction was more than she’d dared hope for. Men certainly did overreact. Why, what would he have done if she’d insisted on that ridiculous dragon suggestion? Besides, teaching her to drive would probably not be nearly the chore he expected. She was, after all, rather quick witted and caught on to new ideas easily. Surely she could master a simple machine.

  She glanced at him from beneath the rim of her hat. A slight, satisfied smile played around his lips. She drew her brows together in puzzlement. That subtle expression of masculine triumph did not bode well.

  “Jared…” she said cautiously.

  “Did you meet Lady Wilson last night?” He nodded toward an elegantly dressed woman in a nearby carriage.

  “No, but…” What on earth was he up to?

  “I shall introduce you, then. There is no time like the present to begin getting to know London society.” He reined in the team and waited for Lady Wilson’s arrival.

  The next half hour was filled with the polite social niceties that apparently accounted for an afternoon in the park. Jared did not once mention her task or quest or what ever he chose to call it. In turn, Cece bided her time. Not until they were nearly at her door did she return to the subject.

  She extended her hand to him. “In my country a business deal is very often agreed to with nothing more than a handshake.”

  He grasped her hand in his, his eyes gleaming with an unreadable emotion. “We do the same here. Although when the two parties are male and female…” He lifted her hand to his mouth, turned it palm up and drifted his lips along the sensitive flesh of her inner wrist, just above the protection of her glove. She sucked in her breath sharply at the unexpected intimacy of the contact.

  The deep blue of his eyes seemed to see inside her very soul. His voice was resonant with purpose. “I intend to pursue you quite aggressively, Cece.”

  She gasped in a valiant effort to regain her shattered senses. “And I firmly intend to let you.”

  Jared leaned back against the tufted leather seat of his brougham and gazed idly at the city streets passing by, confident in the skill of his driver at the reins. Once again he was on his way to attend yet another of the endless social events London society prided itself on.

  It had become a pattern this past week. Jared did indeed throw himself headlong into courting Cece. He made it a point to be at every function she attended; he accompanied her on rides in the park, in carriages and on horse back, as often as possible, and he even attempted to create a good impression with her father.

  Jared was surprised to discover he liked Henry White, and White seemed to return his regard, once the American got over his innate distrust of anyone who would dare to pursue his daughter. Jared could well see where Cece obtained her strong opinions about men having to work to achieve success. With this self-made millionaire as a model, how could she think anything else?

  Henry White may well have been responsible for the obstinate streak in his offspring as well. Jared tried everything he could think of to dissuade her from the ridiculous notion of learning to drive his automobile. His efforts fell on ears not only deaf but every argument seemed merely to encourage her resistance. In spite of his continued irritation, he couldn’t help but admire the strength of her will.

  Still, the very thought of a woman at the controls of his machine was absurd. Certainly he had allowed her that privilege when they first met. But it had been a momentary lapse in judgment, nothing more. He could admit, if only to himself, that while his purpose in that venture had not been seduction, as Cece had so indignantly claimed, he had hoped to impress the enthusiastic and damned pretty American with his automobile.

  Persistence was not all he admired about Cece. With every day, every hour, every moment spent in her company he fell more and more under the spell of a woman he found not only fascinating but irresistible. She had a wry wit that left him struggling for a quick retort or choked with laughter. She was surprisingly intelligent, an attribute he rarely noticed in women of her social class. And with each kiss stolen in a rare moment of privacy, he could taste the hint, the suggestion, the promise of an imprisoned passion he ached to release.

  He would have this American as his own, forever. And if he had to risk his automobile in the process, he sighted to himself, it would be a small price to pay. The merest gaze into the deep chocolate of her eyes was enough to cause him to vanquish all thoughts of machines and progress and the oncoming twentieth century and agree to anything and everything she wished.

  Still, he hoped it would be unnecessary. He had a trump card hidden well up his sleeve. If played correctly, it would assure her hand in marriage before he was forced to go through the farce of allowing her to touch his motorcar. Jared grinned at the thought.

  Seduction was no longer a last resort.

  Chapter Seven

  “I believe that’s sufficient for our first lesson,” Jared said, a note of finality in his tone.

  “Sufficient?” Cece stared, astonished. “This is it? All you intend to do?” She gestured vigorously toward the vehicles standing untouched in the stables. “I haven’t so much as placed a foot in one of your automobiles.”

  “Nor shall you,” he said under his breath, so low she must have misheard. He shook his head firmly. “Regardless, it’s getting late. It shall soon be time to dress for dinner. And the rest of Mother’s guests should have arrived by now.”

  He leveled her a stern glance. “Surely you wouldn’t want anyone to notice our absence, would you?”

  “Of course not.” She planted her hands on her hips and glared. “But for the past hour you have done nothing save lecture me on the workings of the automobile. You have thoroughly acquainted me with various theories of propulsion. You have familiarized me with the mechanical intricacies of your machine. You have droned on and on about which gear does what to what and why until I want nothing more than to shove the whole thing, and its owner, back into the blasted pond!”

  “One needs to know how things work before one can master them,” he said in a superior manner.

  Her hand itched to smack the smug expression off his face. “Stuff and nonsense,” she snapped. “I haven’t the vaguest concept of the internal anatomy of a horse, yet I find I can handle the animal with ease.”

&n
bsp; “Horses,” he smiled condescendingly, “are far different from automobiles.”

  “No doubt.” Irritation rang in her voice. “Will an automobile balk if a dog runs across the road? Will an automobile bloat its stomach to ensure you end up thrown from your seat at an inopportune moment? Will an automobile totally disregard your direction and instead insist on going where it wishes to go? It seems to me driving an automobile would be quite a bit easier than riding a horse.”

  “Nonetheless…” he said, in a patient voice she would have thought reserved for small children or the feebleminded. Her annoyance grew. “We are finished for today.”

  “Jared,” she resisted the impulse to stamp her foot in exasperation, “I am no closer to learning to drive a motorcar now than when we got here. Although, I daresay, I could probably build one.”

  “Cece…” He leaned toward her ominously, his tall figure blocking out the late afternoon sun. His dark eyes gleamed and delicious fear shivered through her. His voice was little more than a growl. “I have agreed to your ridiculous demand to teach you to drive. I shall perform that heinous task my way in my own time. I do not intend to turn over the automobile I have spent years of my life developing to anyone without proper preparation.

  “Furthermore, I am not fully convinced it is not against nature to mix women and mechanics.” A sly smile curved his lips. “For example, name one female inventor.”

  “That’s not the point,” she said loftily.

  His smile blossomed to a smirk. “I thought as much. But for your next lesson I will allow you to sit behind the controls of an automobile.” He gestured at the two vehicles flanking the center motorcar. “One of those perhaps.”

  “Jared!” She fairly sputtered his name, her throat choked with indignation. “You told me yourself those two are not completed.” She narrowed her eyes and glared. “They don’t run, Jared.”

  He shrugged casually. “They will serve quite well for your first experience in the driver’s seat. Now…” He stepped away and closed the great doors of the stable. They shut with a shuddering thud that marked the end of her first session of instruction as surely as the final curtain on a three-act play. Cece stared in frustration.