“I haven’t had the chance to speak to her, but from our brief meeting in Copenhagen, I agree that the Admiral likely didn’t stand a chance against her. You are to be congratulated for making an advantageous marriage out of such a poor beginning.”
Leo made a face. “Poor beginning is an understatement. I don’t even remember seeing her until I came out of the fever a few days ago.”
“Now that is a shame. The princess is quite worth looking upon, and had I been younger, I would have made much of my initial meeting with her.”
Leo’s gaze shot swiftly to the other man, but it was evident by the amusement on Dalton’s face that the latter was teasing him.
“She is a beauty,” Leo agreed, spending a few moments thinking over just how pleasing Dagmar was on a physical level. His body had absolutely no trouble appreciating her appearance, but it was her mind that troubled him. The very fact that she’d wed herself to a man who was near death left him floundering between gratitude and annoyance. “What if she is disappointed that she isn’t a widow?”
He wasn’t aware he had spoken the thought aloud until Dalton, with due consideration, answered, “There’s something in that, you know. My own late wife, rest her soul, often told me that there were days when she would have happily pushed me off a cliff. I’ve always felt that no woman would wish to be on her own without any menfolk to take care of her, but my sister, Louisa, has often declared just the opposite, and in truth, she appears quite contented to be on her own. Perhaps the princess would be happier likewise, although the point is moot now, isn’t it? There’s not much she can do even if she would have preferred that you not survive the journey home.”
Leo shot him another look, a bit startled with how personal a turn the conversation had taken, although he had no one but himself to blame for that. “Er…”
“I’ll tell you,” Dalton said, setting down his cigar and leaning forward. “You may wish to have a word with your good lady. Louisa heard from the captain that her servant—the princess’s servant, not Louisa’s—was speaking about ways to end the marriage.”
A clammy sensation seemed to grip his vitals. “Dagmar wishes to be rid of me?”
“As to that, I couldn’t say.” Dalton reclaimed his cigar, gave it a few puffs, and leaned back, adding, “This is only hearsay, mind you, but the princess’s maid was overheard talking to the surgeon about how the only honorable thing to do was to divorce you so that you would be none the worse. Dr. Maltheson told Louisa that the maid had other ideas, but that the princess seemed pretty set on that plan of action.”
Silence fell in the cabin. Leo struggled with the desire to unburden himself of his worries to this apparently trustworthy man, but a natural tendency to keep his private business close to his chest had him simply saying, “You needn’t worry that I’m going to allow Dagmar to do anything so rash as divorce. She has ideas with which I do not necessarily agree.”
He was mildly surprised to find that he meant what he said. Divorce was out, no matter how the Danes felt about the idea. Annulment held no attraction for him (and he refused to admit that the interest his body had in Dagmar was most likely responsible for that feeling). “The idea of her running a shop is ludicrous at best.”
“She wants to run a shop?” Dalton looked surprised at first but after a few minutes silent smoking said, “I’d be willing to wager that if any woman could make a go of it, she could. She has a purpose of mind that would guarantee success.”
“I have a nagging feeling that you’re correct. Still, the idea is impossible. I won’t have it be said that my wife had to support herself in that manner.”
“I’m sure that, given time, you’ll work out the problems that the unusual circumstances of your marriage present to you. Now, the captain wanted me to pass along the information that we should be arriving in London tomorrow morning. I hope you won’t consider it forward of me to ask if you have a place to stay in town. I’m sure you must, but whether that domicile is suitable for someone of the princess’s stature is a question that occurred to Louisa and me. If not, you must allow us to open my home to you and your wife.”
Oh Lord, the housing situation. Leo thought over his bachelor digs and immediately discounted them. His landlady had a horror of what she termed “bawdy women” dragging down both her good name and that of her lodging house, and for that reason, never allowed female visitors into the building. Nick, the man he shared lodgings with, once had tried to shelter his half sister overnight until she could be put on a carriage out to the country, and it took some fast talking on both their parts in order to keep all three of them from finding themselves on the street. There was no way that Dagmar could be housed in his rooms, even assuming Nick wasn’t around.
“I appreciate the offer, but I assure you that it’s not necessary to shelter her in order to gain Dagmar’s help. She will, I’m sure, be more than willing to assist you if it’s at all within her means.”
“No, no, I wasn’t motivated by that desire,” Dalton protested. “I am quite confident that the princess will give us what assistance she can. I am simply offering what I know my godfather would wish for me to make available.”
Leo almost laughed at the face the older man made at his own words.
“You’d think after all my years, I’d have learned to express myself without insulting the recipient, wouldn’t you? I have been too long in the country, I fear. Allow me to redress what injury I have just made and assure you that I am not offering you accommodations solely due to obligations put upon me by Lord Salter. Since my wife’s death, I have had few opportunities to indulge in entertaining, and none since Louisa has returned from Italy. We would be delighted to have you stay with us.”
“I much appreciate the offer and will consider your kind invitation.” Leo took the card that Dalton handed him. “And speaking of Lord Salter, I suppose I should present myself to him immediately upon my arrival to explain why I’m there in London rather than Germany, as I ought to be.” Leo didn’t relish telling his superior what had happened to send him so far astray, mostly because he didn’t know himself. “As for the business with my wife…you won’t…er…let it be known that she’s been speaking of events which will not be happening? I refer to the dissolution of our marriage. She has the best of intentions but doesn’t fully realize that we do things differently in England.”
Dalton rose and gave him a reassuring smile. “Naturally, the gossip shall go no further. And now, if you don’t mind my impertinence, I should advise you to stay in bed and rest. You look as though you could use a full fortnight of sleep.”
“There are moments when I feel that way as well. I will speak to Dagmar at the earliest convenience about your problem. Do you have a description of the individual that I might give her?”
“I’ll have Louisa write one up. I never saw the woman myself, but Louisa recalls meeting her once or twice. Good day, Lord March.”
Leo lay back on his pillows and thought of the tangled mess that was an unexpected marriage, his wounded arm, the mysterious murderess, and the manner in which his job had veered off course.
He had an uncanny feeling that unraveling that tangle would tax his every ability, including that concerning Dagmar.
Especially Dagmar.
Seven
A royal Tabernacle of Aphrodite is not open to all. Visitations should be limited to husbands only or, in dire circumstances of great need, a physician. It should be also noted that if the crown prince’s new and quite handsome young physician continues to appear daily with the intention of applying a soothing balm to a princess’s tabernacle, this privilege will be revoked.
—Princess Christian of Sonderburg-Beck’s Guide for Her Daughter’s Illumination and Betterment
Dagmar took to London immediately. Perhaps it was the thrilling knowledge that she was returning to her mother’s homeland. Perhaps it was a spirit of adventure that she’d b
e hard-pressed to ignore. Perhaps it was the fact that she was no longer beholden to Frederick for every little thing.
Perhaps it was the man to whom she was now legally bound. She slid a sidelong look at him as Julia bustled up beside her, saying a bit breathlessly, “London at last! Oh, my dear princess, I cannot tell you how happy I am to be gazing upon its dear old sights again.”
Leo stood with his arm held stiffly at his side, one shoulder slightly higher than the other as he watched the gangway being moved into place. He was hatless and clad in a loose blue coat and black trousers, both of which had been provided by the admiral responsible for the destruction of all the Danish ships. Leo’s expression was inscrutable, but his face made for pleasant viewing nonetheless. Dagmar found she liked watching him. She liked how interested he was in something so mundane as the moving of a gangway.
“Ah, the beloved scents of London!”
She liked how his hair ruffled in the wind. She hadn’t really appreciated just how nice his hair was, but now she did, and just the thought of running her fingers through it gave her odd little tingles.
“Look! A hackney carriage! How dear it all seems after having been gone for so very long.”
She also liked his hands. She hadn’t ever thought about a man’s hands before, but Leo had very nice ones, with long, sensitive fingers. She imagined those fingers touching her in places that only she had ever touched, and grew simultaneously hot and chilled.
“How I have missed the embrace of a vital city bursting with life!”
Dagmar had heard that men like touching women in such places. Would Leo be like other men and wish to touch her in those intimate spots? She was in the middle of framing the question in such a way as to appear neither a shameless hussy with needy personal parts nor an overly coy maiden who may not know exactly the way of such things but didn’t wish to appear ignorant, when a thought struck her. Would Leo expect her to reciprocate such touches? She considered the memory of Leo in his bath. Men, she thought to herself, were singularly unlucky to have their plumbing parts external rather than tucked away neatly as women did. Still, she supposed it was only fair that if he saw fit to use those long, long fingers in ways that she was even now planning, then she should be prepared to do the same for him.
“The ebb and flow of London life, sweeping me up and sending me spinning, giddy with delight!”
Dagmar stopped thinking about Leo and his interesting hands and turned to gaze with astonishment at her companion. Julia was leaning against the railing of the ship, her eyes glazed with some emotion. “Julia, are you feeling quite well?”
“Yes, my dearest princess, I feel wonderful! We are in England again!”
“So I gathered.”
Her dry tone was lost on the other woman. Julia flung wide her arms and said, “It has been so long…not that I haven’t been grateful for Her Highness, your esteemed mama, for taking me in at my time of need…but oh, this blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England!”
“King Richard the Second,” Dagmar said absently, having been no stranger to Shakespeare while her mother lived.
“Act two, scene one,” Julia said with a happy sigh. “To be returned to the land of my birth—words fail me, my dearest princess. They fail me!”
Dagmar kindly did not point out the falsity of such a statement and instead returned to contemplating Leo as he stood waiting patiently for the gangway to be tied down.
“And what of you, dearest one? Surely you must feel something having arrived at the birthplace of half of your ancestors? Does your heart quicken? Do you wish to sing out your praises for all that is English? Are you gazing down upon these simple folk and feeling with them a kinship of the most primal sort?”
“No, I’m watching Leo,” Dagmar answered with honesty. “Although I am indulging in some pretty primal thoughts about his hands. Do you know, I think he must be feeling better. His appearance is so much improved. I remarked to myself when he was ill that he wasn’t at all a handsome man, but now he’s quite changed that opinion. He’s very dashing, don’t you think?”
“Oh, yes, very dashing, very dashing indeed. It’s just a shame about his shoulder.”
“I like his shoulders!” Dagmar said, a bit startled by how defensively the words were spoken.
“But do you not regret the one being higher than the other? It ruins the balance of his figure.”
“Bah on balance. His shoulders are very nice. They’re suitably broad to make me feel delicate and tiny, and as you know—” She straightened up, which had the effect of hoisting upward her substantial bosom. She was ready to swear that said bosom was even larger today than it had been a few days before. Drat that sea air! “As you know, I am anything but tiny.”
“I apologize if you think I’ve said anything to belittle Lord Marsh’s figure—” Julia started to say, but Dagmar interrupted her when Leo gestured at them. The gangway had finally been moved into place.
“At last! Come, Julia, let us sally forth and see this precious London of yours.”
“Is that all the luggage you have?” Leo asked, frowning when Dagmar and Julia each picked up their respective bandboxes and moved forward. “Where are your trunks?”
“We don’t have any trunks, and yes, this is all that we possess other than a boiled pig’s head and half a cheese wheel, but I left those with one of Frederick’s guards who has a puppy.”
“The dear princess had to sell so many lovely gowns just so we might eat,” Julia lamented, following when Leo took Dagmar’s arm and helped her down the rough gangway. “It broke my heart to know that her dearest mama’s jewels and gowns had to go in such a manner, but alas, I was unable to stop her from doing so.”
“You didn’t tell me that you were destitute,” Leo said softly, setting Dagmar’s bandbox on top of a small leather satchel that held the few items of clothing he’d been given by the captain.
She made a little face of distaste while he helped Julia down. “I believe I told you that I would have to borrow a little money to set up our shop. I will repay it, naturally.”
“We’ll talk about that at a later time. Here, you!” Leo strode off to one of the men lounging around the dock, scattering orders as he went. Within a very short space of time, Leo had engaged two hackney carriages, one small and barely able to contain two people, and the other larger, into which Leo placed Julia and their small amount of luggage.
“I can’t wait to see your house,” Dagmar said when she and Leo squished into the remaining carriage.
“What house?”
“The house we’re going to.”
“We aren’t going to a house.”
Dagmar turned to look at him, icy fingers (not nearly so long and sensitive as Leo’s) gripping her stomach. “You’re not letting me see your house? You’re going to annul me right away?”
Leo gave a sigh that was tinged with more than a little bit of exasperation. “I do not intend to apply for an annulment today, no.”
A bit of the fear eased, but hurt promptly filled the void. “Then why won’t you take me to your house? Is it because you’re ashamed of me?”
“No—”
“I am a princess, you know,” Dagmar said, straightening her shoulders again. Leo’s eyes dropped to her bosom when it thrust forward. “And I can’t help that.”
“Help what?” he asked, a puzzled look on his face when he managed (finally) to pull his gaze from her upper story.
“My bosom. I told you that the sea air made it grow. I think it’s very mean of you to not let me even stay one night in your house, Leo. I realize that you don’t want to be married to me, but I am a princess and the granddaughter of one of your English dukes, so I’m not someone about whom you should be so embarrassed that you can’t let your servants see.”
“It’s not that at all—”
“Then you’ll take me to your hou
se?”
“No.”
Dagmar felt a sudden need to throttle him but fought down that emotion as being unworthy of a princess. “Why not?”
“Because I don’t have a house in town.”
She gawked at him. “But you’re an earl.”
“And a viscount and a baron.” He grimaced and tugged at the borrowed neckcloth that was wound around his neck in an intricate manner. “But none of those titles comes with a house in London.”
Dagmar was slightly incensed by his breezy manner. “How can you have three titles but no house?”
“You have a title and don’t have a house,” he pointed out in a maddening manner.
“That’s one title. You have three.”
“Your title outweighs mine. I’m just a lowly earl, viscount, and baron. You’re a bona fide princess. You merit a serene in front of your name. That makes your title worth at least two and a half times all of mine combined.”
“Your math is faulty,” Dagmar said dismissively but spent a few minutes in mental arithmetic. Drat the man; he was right. Her title was more prestigious than his. Even penniless, landless, and a hair’s breadth away from being forced into a French convent, her title was the weightier. “Damn,” she said.
His eyebrows waggled at her.
“Fine. I shan’t cast aspersions at your title for not coming with a house in London, but I would like to point out that until Dearest Papa died, we had Yellow House, which is really a small palace.”
“Point duly noted.” Leo shifted uncomfortably, and Dagmar was suddenly worried that he was doing too much too soon after having recovered.
“If you aren’t taking me to your house, where are we going?”
“To my rooms in Whitehall. You can’t stay there—they are strictly bachelor lodgings—but until I can look around and find a house for us to take, it’s that or a hotel, and you can’t stay at a hotel without proper servants.”
She didn’t like the faint white lines that appeared alongside his mouth. They told of a gritted determination not to acknowledge pain. He was doing too much, drat him. “Are they far?”