Finally, he asked, “And who is that meant to be?”
But he knew—Mauriceknew. And Ryan knew. And anyone with eyes could see that an actual, honest-to-Godprincehad just cantered through the gates of Winscombe. His Serene Highness, a Prince of the Blood.
“I told you!” cheered Charlotte from atop her chair. “I saw him from Papa’s window. Jenkins has hauled Papa from bed to see it. Papa believes him to be his old friend, Prince Phillipe. But I said—”
Ryan didn’t answer, she snatched up the marriage license and fled the room, sprinted down the fronthall, and threw open the front door. Maurice’s dogs bolted beside her, running to the horses with a chorus of barks.
Gabriel looked up, working the reins to control his mount. He made his familiar clicking noise, settling both the stallion and the dogs. Then, he lifted his face to the house and looked at her.
The sun beamed down, warming her, reflecting a pink glow from her dress. The breeze died; the ocean over the distant cliff went still. Ryan was suspended in a blinding moment of deliverance.
He’d come. He’d come for her.
And oh, God, just look at him. He was every bit himself and also every bit a prince. For a nervous moment, Ryan lost heart. He looked so transformed with a clean-shaven face; in the hat of a proper gentleman; with gleaming boots and a riding crop and a wool jacket. He looked magnificent. The most refined, handsome, brilliantly turned-out man she’d ever seen. Tears of pride and love filled Ryan’s eyes. She sucked in a breath. Charlotte and Diana crowded on the stoop beside her but came up short, gaping at the striking figure of a proud prince on a dancing horse.
“There is nothing to see!” Maurice was insisting from behind them. “The Daventrys have a caller—a neighbor or a peddler, no doubt...”
Ryan glanced back. Winscombe’s curious staff and Maurice’s twitchy entourage pushed behind him, straining to have a look.
“Come,” whispered Ryan, taking her sister’s hands. “Let everyone see. Make room.”
She clipped down the steps, pulling Diana andCharlotte with her. A scrum of mystified staff and courtiers spilled onto the stoop.
“Is this thesame personfrom the barn?” marveled Diana, squinting at Gabriel.
“Everyone curtsy,” whispered Ryan breathlessly, pulling them toward him. “When we reach him, we’ll curtsy.”
Ryan knew he’d seen her, but she had yet to catch his eye. He’d affected a detached sort of arrogance; he kept his gaze elevated and remote. He spoke in French to—
And now Ryan looked more closely...
—toSister Marie and Bartholomew, who trailed behind him on their own mounts.
But how had they—?
But when had—?
“Good morning, Princess,” Gabriel said in French, spinning his stallion.
Ryan locked eyes with him. His expression was formal and resolved.
Ryan stared at him—looked deep in his eyes—searching for some sign that he could manage it, that hewantedthis,reallywanted this. His horse spun again, and he whipped about, seeking her out. When their eyes met, he cocked an eyebrow and... winked.
Ryan let out a little gasp. Immediately she dipped into a curtsy. Beside her, Diana and Charlotte dropped into their own deep curtsies.
“Good morning, Highness,” she said.
“What is the meaning?” demanded Maurice, pushing his way through the crowded stoop. “What, I ask you? Truly? You must be joking.” He clipped down the steps. “Who the devil are you? What is this? Playacting?”
Ryan and her sisters turned to watch him. His voice was bold, but Ryan could see the careful study he made of Gabriel’s face. All around him, Winscombe staff had followed Ryan’s lead and dropped into bows and curtsies. Maurice’s courtiers looked uneasy and confused.
“Get up,” shouted Maurice. “Get up—all of you.Iam the Prince d’Orleans. Where was this respect and supplication when I arrived? Pray?”
“Hello, cousin,” Gabriel said in French, his voice bored and weary. He dismounted and Bartholomew leaped from his mount and took the reins.
“Careful how you address me, sir—you’re no cousin of mine,” Maurice said, answering in English. “I’ve never before seen you in my life. What is your business here?”
“Forgive my tardiness, I was detained yesterday in port. But I’m here now; come to join my wife, the Princess Marianne, and to see her family. We were married in a private ceremony in England.”
