The Wronged Princess - Book I Read online

  Alessandro narrowed his eyes on the Conte. “Plans? Nobility? We are here for Prince Charmin’s inauguration as king. What are you up to?”

  *****

  “Edric, my little prince, we are missing out on family time. You know your mamán will be wondering where we have disappeared,” Esmeralda chided her little charge. Edric was a gale of energy. A mass of dark curls and eyes were a perfect match of Cinde’s rich browns and his papá’s outrageous charm.

  The little progeny already had the aptitude for turning the saddest eyes on even the least gullible victim, charming them silly. His Auntie Cill came to mind as his toughest critic. Essie had seen the little thespian in action. Quite impressive he was, not to mention entertaining to observe, winding Pricilla round his chubby pinky finger. Of Esmeralda’s two sisters, Cinderella and Pricilla, Pricilla was, by far, the more difficult to succumb.

  “Aunt Sessie, I would pray hide an’ seek, s’il vous plait,” Edric begged.

  “The word is ‘play,’ Edric, and we are late. We must hurry if we are to visit with the family before you and Bella are banished to the nursery for the evening.” Essie kept her voice firm. One must maintain an image of control, regardless of the reality.

  However, Edric was a master, evidenced when his fuller bottom lip poked out in petulance. He gulped to scream certain displeasure with his Aunt Sessie’s unyielding words.

  But Essie was not one of Edric’s victims like his Aunt Cill, and verified her deftness. “Edric, I suggest you quell the impulse. Young princes do not bellow their tendencies toward screaming,” she informed him blandly, hands clasped before her. Presenting a model of patience was imperative.

  Edric stopped, seeming to consider her words. But when he handed her a brilliant smile, she realized it was too late to rethink her stratagem. “I hide, Aunt Sessie, you seek.”

  The cheeky urchin whipped round, darting down a dimly lit corridor before she could blink.

  “Edric,” Essie called after him, stomping her foot. “Don’t you dare!” But the ball of force had already disappeared. Essie lifted her skirts and bolted after him. Softly lit sconces intensified the depth of shadows as most of the chambers down this wing were dark and deserted. She poked her head through the first open door. “Edric, come out, s’il vous plait,” she called softly. How did one handle a misbehaving heir? Oh, she would blast the little scamp.

  Silence.

  Essie continued down the hallway. “Edric?” She angled her head, listening for the slightest sound. No Edric, only the tale-tell murmurings of Italian. It sounded as if the Conte de Lecce and his son were in a heated row. She had an embarrassing ardor for the Conte de Lecce’s eldest off-spring, Alessandro.

  They first made their appearance several years prior when Prince Charming was looking for his mysterious princess, Cinderella. With Alessandro dark hair and eyes, strong jaw and immaculate manners, Essie found him irresistible, though she’d noticed a certain broodiness about him that hadn’t been apparent before. He certainly couldn’t have been involved with the Prussian – Austrian Wars. They’d ended years ago. Of course, she’d never understood matters of war. Women would demand communication in their dealings rather than resorting to blood and gore.

  Unfortunately, her little blinking problem hadn’t abated in the least since they’d last met. Like the time Prince Charming’s shoe slipped onto her own dainty foot, quite unexpectedly. Why, she’d created a dust storm to rival that of the Far Eastern desserts.

  Curiosity had her inching forward. Why they would meet in such a deserted portion of the castle was beyond her. She shook her head and quickened her step. ’Twould not do to be discovered eavesdropping. Still, if the princely monster did not show himself soon she might be forced to seek their assistance. She grimaced.

  ’Twould be her luck for the Nobile dei Conti Alessandro de Lecce to witness such incompetence in handling a rambunctious four year old. Her nerves simply could not take it. She was wont to send the Conte’s elder son sprawling to land on his nicely shaped arse when her uncontrollable eye-batting windstorm kicked up.

  She blinked back a sting of sudden tears. Mamá was right. She was completely unmarriageable with this idiotic affliction. And to someone of Alessandro de Lecce’s pedigree, she was all but doomed to a court-appointed husband. Irritated at the turn of her already obsessive insecurities, she pushed them away, knowing such introspections only festered. She had a bigger problem at the moment.

  Essie paused at the next chamber, irritation escalating with each step. Mon…dieu, nothing. Jaw clenched, she decided Prince Edric needed to be curbed with a demon. And she was the only one at hand. In a tone that would have served her well had she’d chosen to trod the boards she sang-song, “Humph, I suppose our little prince has made his way back, leaving me to find my way all alone.” She ended on a dramatic sigh, and a silent promise to blast the little imp.

  Just as Essie ducked her way out, the first muffled giggle touched her ears. “Alas, ’tis a long trek,” she added.

  Silence. She scuffed her soft-soled shoes on the floor, pretending to walk away.

  “I’m here, Aunt Sessie,” Edric called.

  She sighed. It was difficult to stay angry with that tiny, high pitched voice.“Where?”

  “You must find me—’member? I hide and you seek.” He giggled again.

  Essie located a taper near the door and slipped into the hallway to light it from a sconce. Lifting the candle overhead showed an old drawing room with sparse furnishings draped in cloths coated in thickly layered dust. She moved deeper into the room and skirted several massive pieces before she spotted Edric’s highly polished black shoe, poking beneath a white sheet over a settee. ’Twas practically a beacon.

  She leaned down ready to grasp Edric’s foot when Alessandro’s words bounded down the hall so loudly they would have served well as warning to pirates as far as the Mediterranean Sea.

  “What are you talking about Nobility, Royalty, Marriage?” Alessandro sounded…furious.

  “Si. I vow Lady Kendra Frazier is perfect for you.” She could practically envision the Conte rubbing his hands together, warming to his topic.

  Essie’s stomach clenched. All signs of panic started at the tips of her toes, working their way up through her blood stream. Her fingers began to tingle. The Conte was trying to marry off Alessandro to that nitwit, Kendra Frazier? Why, she was naught but a prissy—

  “I shall not marry Lady Kendra, Padre,” Alessandro said quietly.

  Essie let out a held breath. It echoed in the chamber. Premonish angst rippled through her, along with the strongest wish to cover her ears. Yet, she was frozen in a bizarre world of morbid curiosity.

  “No?” The Conte sounded amused now.

  Obviously, Alessandro’s steely resolve failed to penetrate.

  She gripped the edge of the sheeted settee, relieved at the resolve she heard in his tone.

  “Lady Kendra shall suit my purposes adequately enough. Her padre is an earl—a distant cousin to England’s throne.” His excitement penetrated the air.

  “Suit your purposes?” The sound of a chair scraped wood, followed its clattering topple over. Essie flinched at his fury. He’d kept his passionate nature well hidden.

  The Conte’s tone hardened. “Si. You shall betroth yourself. You must do your duty with an heir or two. If Lady Kendra does not appeal, perhaps Lady Esmeralda is more to your tastes?”

  The hair at her nape raised, along with the chilled pricks on her skin, air constricted in her throat. Her eyes began their awkward fluttered fury. Dust stirred in the chamber and the furniture coverings billowed in protest. She fought an imminent sneeze at the stirring dirt.

  “Lady Esmeralda? You have truly lost your faculties if your ambitions go so far to bind me for life to a woman whose eyes flutter so furiously ’tis enough to create an avalanche in these Pyrenees Mountains?” Alessandro sniffed in disgust.

  Essie froze as the insult penetrated her seared senses. She gripped her stomach
at the sharp stabbing pain.

  But, apparently, Alessandro de Lecce had not quite completed his annihilation of her person—compelled to pound that final nail.

  “I have availed myself for your purposes long enough.” His strong voice resonated through the empty corridors. “Once this coronation ceremony is over, ’twill be time for us to return to our beloved Italy. I shall ne’er marry a woman able to change the weather on a whim. Not for you. Not for anyone.”

  That voice, distinct, accented, belonging to none other than a man she’d pined over for four long years, gone, in the thrust of a knife straight through her lower abdomen—so great, she bent at the waist. The candle she held tilted in trembling fingers, spilling wax on the dusty coverlet.

  Humiliating tears spilled down her cheeks in a silent river. Could a person expire from utter mortification? An eon wasted in a silent vigil of love, praying he’d notice her—only to realize he’d most certainly noticed. Mon…Dieu! Mayhap the floor could floor just open, s’il vous plait?

  Essie sucked in deep, measured breaths, and slowly stood. She dashed the tears away with her free hand lest Edric spied them. He would only further her embarrassment as a child was wont to do. All with innocent musings that would cut straight to her heart, sparing nothing, if he witnessed his favorite aunt sobbing like his three-year-old sister, not to mention his worry. He truly did love her. She must grasp her composure.

  Determined footsteps echoed across the wooden floors. So lost in shock, she failed to extinguish the flamed taper she held.

  Seconds later, Nobile dei Conti Alessandro de Lecce appeared in the chamber door, blocking her only exit. She stilled, not unlike one of the marble statues in the estate ponds, Medusa, hopefully. How ironic if she could but turn that…that scoundrel into stone!

  Non, such was her luck. Her mortification was truly complete.