Accordingly, when Lord Arthur and Dolph called the following day, Felicity had been watching for them and commanded Spinks to allow them to enter.
Lord Arthur promptly suggested that Felicity should accompany him on a drive, and Dolph, taking his cue, said he would be happy to stay and keep Miss Chubb company. Mr. Silver muttered something rude under his breath, and went out for a long walk.
The day was sparkling and brisk as Lord Arthur drove Felicity up over the downs. He laughed at her fears over her forthcoming presentation to the Queen. “It is not a terrifying occasion,” he said. “People push and shove to get into the drawing room. They bow or curtsey, as the case may be. Her Majesty takes snuff and looks bored. And then they shove and fight back downstairs, usually to find that their disposables, such as shawls, hats, tippets, and cloaks, have been stolen.”
“But surely there are some people who fall ill, who are unable to attend,” said Felicity. “I could be one of them.”
“It would be considered very odd in a… visiting royalty?”
His voice ended on a question, and Felicity blushed. “Why are you in Brighton, my lord?” she asked, as he stopped his team on a grassy hill above the sea.
“Now, I should have thought that was obvious. I came in pursuit of you, my princess.”
Felicity turned her head away and fiddled with the long blue satin ribbons of her gown. “My lord, I must remind you that you are engaged to Miss Barchester.”
“No longer. I disengaged myself.”
Felicity suddenly felt ridiculously happy. But his next words took all that happiness away. “Now, Princess Felicity,” he said, “do you not think it is time you told me all about Brasnia?”
She hung her head. She longed to tell him the truth, but would he believe her? I took the jewels and ran. But what proof had she that the jewels were really hers? And how could their relationship deepen unless she did tell him the truth?
“Don't look so miserable,” he said gently. “We will have all our married life before us to talk about the wretched place.”
Felicity's wide eyes flew to meet his. “You wish to marry me?”
“Of course. I do not kiss gently bred ladies unless my intentions are serious, and they have never before been as serious as this.”
“I cannot marry you,” said Felicity miserably. He jumped lightly down from the carriage and led his team of horses to a stunted tree and tethered them. Then he helped Felicity to alight.
“Now, why can't you marry me?” he said.
“My family would forbid it.”
“Ah, back to Brasnia again. Perhaps I should go there and ask whoever I need to ask.”
“That would not answer. I am already betrothed.”
“To whom?”
“Prince Ivan, my first cousin.”
“Here. You cannot go around marrying first cousins. You'll have a nursery full of imbeciles. My dearest, is it not time you told me the truth?”
Felicity walked a little ahead of him in silence.
“You see, you are going to marry me,” he said, catching up with her. “And I then must go and see my family to tell them the good news, and then I must find a special license because I do not want to wait. Are you afraid of me?”
Felicity turned to face him. “Oh, yes,” she whispered. “Very afraid.”
He looked at her ruefully. “I must do something to end this farce. I never thought to use force, but…”
He deftly kicked Felicity's legs from under her, and as she fell backward on the springy turf, he crouched down beside her and pinioned her arms above her head.
“Now,” he said, “let's kiss some of that Brasnian nonsense out of you.”
“You are stronger than I am,” said Felicity with pathetic dignity. “I can only appeal to your honor, if you do have any.”
He smiled down at her wickedly. “Not a scrap,” he said softly, and then his mouth descended on hers.
As he kissed her softly, he released her wrists, only to pull her body into his arms. Felicity planned to lie cold and unresisting in order to bring him to his senses. But her lips had a will of their own, and her body refused to listen to frantic messages from her brain and arched against his. As he felt her response he freed her mouth and kissed her neck. “Brasnia,” he whispered against her skin. “Come along now. Tell me about Brasnia or I shall forget myself and leave you with no choice but to marry me. Brasnia!”
“No!” said Felicity.
Her dress was high-waisted and stiffened, to push her breasts up against the low neckline. He kissed the top of each breast and then rolled on top of her, pressing her into the ground with the weight of his body and began caressing her mouth again with his lips, soft stroking kisses that were more devastating than any savage assault.
Felicity let out a sort of gurgling moan, and he raised his head. Her hat had tumbled off onto the grass, and her red hair had come free of its pins and lay in a fiery cloud about her face.
“Oh, I shall tell you,” she sighed, “and then you will go away and forget about me.”
“I doubt it, Mr. Freddy Channing, Miss Felicity Channing and Your Royal Highness. I doubt it very much.”
“You knew,” said Felicity. “You knew all along.”
“Of course I did, my widgeon! But I wanted you to trust me, to tell me. I hope I can recognize a pretty girl even when dressed in men's clothes. And I was there, you know, when Palfrey thought you had plunged to your death. It was when I fished a little girl's dress out of the sea that I realized you had only pretended to die. You might have left behind a more convincing wardrobe, you idiot.”
“I can't think with you lying on top of me in this disgraceful way,” said Felicity.
He rolled to one side, only to gather her in his arms again. “Now, go on,” he said. “Where did you get the money to buy all those jewels?”
“They are mine,” said Felicity. “Mama left a codicil the day she died, but Mr. Palfrey did not mention it. I think he found it and burned it. I knew where the jewels were hidden. It was on the day after I had seen the baron that Miss Chubb and John Tremayne told me they had been hatching a plot. It seems outrageous now, dangerous and silly. But I had to escape.”
“So you had,” he said, smoothing her hair. “So you will make a last grand appearance as the princess at the drawing room, and then we shall be married. The princess will disappear, and Miss Felicity Channing will take her place in time for the wedding.”
“But Mr. Palfrey…?”
“Mr. Palfrey will do nothing to cross swords with me. As my wife, no one will be able to harm you.”
“Do you love me?”
Lord Arthur began to laugh. “I break my engagement, I chase you to Brighton, I make love to you on this drafty hilltop, and I ask you to marry me. Of course I love you. I think I loved you from the moment I saw you in that silly disguise at The Green Dolphin.”
“Then, why did you become engaged to Miss Barchester?”
“I did not know then I loved you. I thought you a wild, ferocious little girl who had run away and would probably never be seen again.” He gave her a little shake. “Do you love me, Felicity?”
“Yes.”
“Then, prove it. Kiss me!”
Felicity wound her arms about his neck and kissed him with all her heart. He kissed her back and kept on kissing her until the sun went down and a chill wind began to blow in from the sea.
Mr. Palfrey had been billeted at an inferior inn near Lord Achesham's house for a week. Every day he went out and walked up and down outside the main gates leading to the mansion, and every evening he returned feeling defeated. He had written to Miss Barchester to tell her of his lack of progress. She wrote back to say that the list of guests to attend the Queen's drawing room included the name of Princess Felicity of Brasnia. She herself was to attend, and if Mr. Palfrey had not been invited, he had only to bribe a certain chancellor, pointed out Mr. Barchester's daughter.