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Why had he lied? She remembered his words from the picnic: And what would be your opinion of me, if I confessed to possessing several titles and I am far wealthier than most lords you know?
She closed her eyes against the memory and the tense way he’d waited for her reply. She had bared her emotions and hurt to him, and he’d still not trusted her. He’d even chosen to inform her father first, no doubt hoping for them to pressure her. The frigid air slapped at her skin, but she was numb to it. Cold rage blossomed in her heart. Once again she had been duped. But this time…this time she had believed. Every uttered lie and sweet false promise of passion and happiness she had welcomed.
How utterly foolish of her.
Mikhail’s heart jerked from his chest and lodged in his throat at the tense scene that greeted him in the parlor. He closed his eyes and scrubbed a hand over his face, but Princess Tatiana and her brother were still there when he opened his lids.
He’d strolled from the west wing and made his way to the stables with the intention of riding to the cottage to meet Payton. He’d met her father in London, and Mr. Peppiwell had been very eager to accept Mikhail’s proposition to court Payton incognito. Of course the man had only relented after they had drawn up an agreement. Not that Mikhail minded. He was determined to wed Payton. He’d not lingered in London, eager to start his conquest. He’d not been at the ball for long before the vile whispers had started about them. The blast of rage that had filled him had almost made him roar. He’d sought her out and, seeing the torment in her eyes at society’s veiled whispers, he’d decided he could not hide his identity and woo her, not when she would suffer until he revealed himself.
The sight of the Arabian horses and Prince Krill’s valet in the stables had made Mikhail falter, and the careful speech he had planned explaining his stupidity vanished. He rushed inside to the parlor and shook his head in disbelief when his eyes landed on the immaculately put-together Princess Tatiana Ivanovna.
He allowed his gaze to sweep the room, assessing the rage on the duchess’s face, the petulant frown on Princess Tatiana, Vladimir’s guilt, and Prince Krill’s anger. Yet the only thing that mattered was that Payton was not there when she must have been earlier.
“Where is Payton?” He kept his voice low and calm, lest he betrayed the anger slowly twisting in his gut.
From the tenseness seething in the room, he could imagine what had taken place.
“She fled in tears,” Jocelyn said tersely.
Regret sat like a stone in his stomach.
“Why are you here?” he asked, shifting his attention to the princess.
She sent a swift glance toward the duchess.
“Did you offer Payton the courtesy of speaking with her in private…when you flayed her with your words? Why should you be given such favor, when you denied it to her?”
Princess Tatiana turned softened eyes to him. “You judge me without hearing what I have to say?”
“Your satisfied sneer speaks for itself.”
She strolled over to him and lifted a hand to touch his face. Revulsion tore through Mikhail, and he jerked from her caress. Impatience bit at him. “Speak as to why you are here.”
“Alexander…I love you. I left my pride in Russia and I followed you to England because I need you,” she said pleadingly.
They had been friends once, but nothing more. Despite his father’s wishes, Mikhail never once gave indication he would welcome something deeper between them. It was laughable she was now speaking words of affection to him. She had always been so sweet, but the lie that she carried his child and insisting they wed was despicable. There had been nothing beneath her sweet softness but emptiness, and greed. After refusing to fall prey to her schemes he’d simply removed her from his thoughts. But to now follow him to England? “How did you know where I was?”
She stepped even closer. “Alexander—”
“How?” His voice snaked through the room like a whip, and she visibly jerked.
Prince Krill shifted, pushing from the wall where he’d been leaning. “Be very careful how you speak to my sister, Alexander,” he said, his eyes growing cold in anger.
The duchess glanced to Mikhail and, with a stiff nod to the room in general, she exited.
“After I saw the interest you showed in the American girl, I wrote Princess Tatiana in London, informing her of your whereabouts,” Vladimir said stiffly.
Mikhail looked at the man who’d been at his side since his kidnapping and rescue from Madam Anya ten years past. Vladimir had been hired by Mikhail’s father, but he thought they’d forged a friendship over the years and that he had the man’s loyalty.
“I entrusted you with my confidence, and your response was to betray me to the princess?”
Vladimir paled. “I did not betray—”
The need to end this unwanted confrontation and be with Payton roiled through him.
“Sherring Cross is not the place for us to have this conversation, Princess. I apologize for leaving home without granting you the audience you sought. If I had acted with courtesy you would not have wasted your time to travel to England. I will be in Wiltshire at my main estate; call on me within the week.”
He nodded to Prince Krill and Vladimir. Mikhail moved with purpose, thinking about where Payton would have fled.
“Are you chasing her?” Incredulity rang in the princess’s voice.
Mikhail kept walking.
“You will not walk away from me, Alexander, to go to that tramp; I have traveled a long journey to speak with you!”
She rushed to stand in front of the door, her eyes snapping with fear and desperation. “I love you, Alexander. I know I have never told you before, but I have the utmost love and respect for you.” She glanced at her brother before lowering her voice. “We can benefit each other. I need a husband, and you do not need a clingy wife who will ask questions. Does your American know of your experience with Madam Anya and the scars with which it left you? Would she be as caring for you if she knew the tales that are alive even today at our court?”
He noted the veiled threat in her tone. “If you approach Payton again I will break you,” he said flatly. “And I will show no mercy despite your connection to my family.”
Shock flared in her eyes, then doubt. A flicker of calculation entered her gaze before she lowered her lashes.
“Your Payton believes we are engaged and that I am carrying your child. That you were only pursuing her for bed sport. You have your trusted man Vladimir to thank for imparting that wonderful tidbit.”
Mikhail stepped close to her, lifting the mask of politeness, and apprehension widened her gaze.
“If you have brought harm to Payton with your thoughtless words I will never forgive you.”
Princess Tatiana paled. “I am already not in your good graces, so what is one more? And it is you who needs to make amends. I did not lie to her,” Princ
ess Tatiana said with a smug smile. “Though I will admit a certain pleasure in shattering whatever naive beliefs she had in relation to you.”
With ruthless control, he placed his hands on her hips and lifted her from blocking the door. She squeaked and gripped his arms, her touch knifing him with dread like a poison-tipped dagger. But he did not draw from her, burying all traces of weakness.
“I saw you wrapped in the arms of Prince Dmitri, naked, discussing how to make use of my fortune and the possibility of you passing his child off as mine.”
All the blood leached from her face, and she stumbled from Mikhail, gasping. Her brother’s face slackened with shock, and he stared at her as if he’d never seen her before.
Mikhail did not care. He wrenched open the door.
“Prince Alexander, I—” Vladimir shook his head, dazed, awareness dawning in his eyes. “Forgive me,” he ended stiffly.
Mikhail did not respond, gently closing the door on the silence. He strode down the foyer with quick steps, finally allowing the fear that he’d lost Payton to rear its head.
It was brutal and gripping.
He had no idea what he’d say when he found her. Mikhail only knew he could not let her walk away from the passion and laughter simmering between them because of his blasted stupidity and her misplaced prejudices.
Chapter Fourteen
Payton nearly collapsed with relief when she reached the sanctuary of their cabin. No. Just an ordinary cottage. She pulled at the horse’s reins, bringing him to a halt, then dismounted. The day was chilly and wet, and a shiver coursed through her. With efficient movements, she tethered Aeton, then fled inside the cottage. A fire blazed in the hearth, casting a golden hue over the cottage, a carafe of wine rested on the small center table, and the room had been aired and cleaned. There was a brown paper lump beside the wine, and she walked over and tore off the wrappings.
She swallowed past the tight lump in her throat. It was an illustrated first edition of Beauty and the Beast as told by Jean-Marie Leprince de Beaumont. Payton did not know how long she stood clutching the bound leather book to her chest, her cheeks wet with tears.
