Page 22 of Three Weeks with a Princess
“Good God, Lia, my behavior is anything but—”
“So, letmebe perfectly clear, your lordship,” she said, jabbing a finger in his direction. “You are not my brother, my father, or anything else that gives you the right to command me. I am a woman grown and I have proven time and again that I am more than capable of making sensible and rational decisions. And given the extremely precarious position in which my grandmother and I find ourselves, my plan is without a doubt the most sensible course of action.” She gave her head a dramatic toss. “You, Lord Lendale, have nothing to say about it.”
Her disdainful tone and her rejection of their relationship set off a little explosion in Jack’s head. He marched around the desk and planted himself in front of her, his legs spread and his hands propped on his hips. It forced Lia to tilt her head back to meet his gaze, glare for glare.
“As much as it pains me to speak so bluntly . . .” he started.
“Ha! I doubt that.”
“The circumstances demand that I must do so,” he said, ignoring her jibe. “You are no more an actress than a courtesan. You are no more a Notorious Kincaid than I am. What you are is an innocent and nice young lady who was raised in the country. And that is exactly where you will remain until I figure out how to deal with this situation.”
Her eyes blazed with icy blue fire. “I beg to differ, my lord. If I put my mind to it, I’m quite sure I can be just as notorious as the other women in my family.”
Then she reached up and clamped his face between her palms. She went up on her toes and planted her mouth on his, kissing him with a fury that almost knocked him off his feet.
It wasn’t the first time she’d kissed him, but those had been chaste pecks on the cheek. This clumsy kiss took him like a storm, blasting amazement through his veins. Instinctively, his arms started to wrap around her to pull her close.
But she shoved him away, leaving him slack-jawed and gasping for breath. The color was high on her cheekbones and her lush, pink mouth was dewy. Like him, she was panting, but from the look on her face he suspected it had more to do with rage than passion.
“Let that be a lesson to you, Jack Easton. You don’t know me as well as you think you do.”
Then she turned on her heel and marched to the French doors. Spinning around, she once more jabbed a minatory finger in his direction. “And don’tevertry to tell me what I can and cannot do.”
With that daunting remark, she disappeared into the bright morning sunlight, leaving Jack with the unnerving sensation that he’d just lost control of everything.
Chapter Four
“I’m truly sorry, dearest,” Lia’s mother said as she lounged gracefully on a yellow velvet chaise in her drawing room. She looked as beautiful and stylish as always, completely at home in the elegantly decorated town house her husband had recently rented on a quiet street in Kensington.
Lia sighed and briefly pressed her palms to her tired eyes. If one more person said she lacked acting talent, she might just scream. “But Mama, you’ve seen me act only once and I was just twelve years old at the time.”
She remembered the occasion with ringing clarity, because she and Granny had staged the performance in honor of one of Mama’s rare visits to Yorkshire. With help from the servants, they’d put on a very abbreviated version ofRichard III, with Lia playing most of the roles.
Her mother gave a slight shudder. “It was not an occasion one would forget. Although I do give you full marks for such a bold venture.”
“I’m sure it was much better than you remember, my love,” said Stephen Lester, casting a worried look Lia’s way. “After all, one’s memory does grow dim over the years.”
“There is nothing wrong with my memory,” Mama huffed. “I’ve memorized dozens of roles over the years and not forgotten a single line.”
Mama did have a spectacular memory and she was a very good actress, so her unflinching assessment was likely correct. Still, Lia wasn’t yet ready to give up the fight.
Along with Sarah Rogers, who’d served as her chaperone, Lia had arrived in London late last night. The days-long trip from Yorkshire had been rather gruesome, as they were crammed into an overcrowded, hot, and rather smelly public coach. She’d spent much of the trip trying to control a queasy stomach and struggling not to second-guess her decision.
Despite the inconvenience, the trip had provided an entertaining and often unvarnished display of humanity. When one cheeky fellow tried to corner Lia on the landing of a narrow staircase, Sarah had dispatched the idiot with a few good whacks of her umbrella. And although that encounter had been distasteful, Lia told herself it was useful fodder for a budding actress. The more she knew about her fellow man, the more skillful her performance on the stage was likely to be.
“I truly wish you’d written to me earlier, Lia,” Mama said in a plaintive voice. “We’d only just received your grandmother’s letter and there you were on our doorstep.”
Lia tried for a doleful expression. “I’m so sorry, but there really wasn’t any time. Matters have reached a crisis point.”
It had been Granny’s idea to avoid giving the Lesters too much notice. Lia had been quite sure her mother would welcome her with open arms, but it turned out Rebecca Kincaid knew her daughter better than Lia knew her mother. It now seemed clear that Mama would have refused to allow Lia to stay with her if she’d only had the opportunity to do so.
The most charitable interpretation was that the former Marianne Kincaid had spent years trying to put her reputation behind her, refashioning herself as the respectable—if rather dashing—wife of a well-regarded theater manager and playwright. The accomplished Mrs. Lester likely had no wish to be reminded of the old scandals she’d done her best to overcome. In that sense, her daughter’s sudden appearance in London was bound to be an unsettling reminder.
But what choice did Lia have but to ask for her mother’s help? Leaving her entire future in Jack’s hands was no option, as their ridiculous last meeting had made clear. She cringed every time her memory dredged up the appalled expression on his face when she’d revealed Granny’s scheme. It had been the most humiliating moment of her life.
Even worse, she was now an object of pity to Jack and a source of embarrassment. And if she made him that uncomfortable, he would be much less inclined to fight for her and Granny when he did finally marry and his future wife set about evicting them from Bluebell Cottage.
“Oh dear, I simply don’t know what to do,” Mama said, fluttering a handkerchief at her husband. Mr. Lester, sitting next to her on the chaise, patted her knee.
