The Perils of Pursuing a Prince (Desperate Debutantes, Book 2) - Softcover

London, Julia

Softcover

ISBN 10: 1416516166 ISBN 13: 9781416516163

Publisher: Pocket Star, 2007

Synopsis

From New York Times bestselling author Julia London comes the second novel in her irresistibly romantic Desperate Debutantes trilogy, in which three suddenly destitute aristocratic young ladies must resort to desperate means to keep up appearances...and find the husbands of their dreams.

Lady Greer Fairchild's only hope of avoiding marriage to the first bidder lies in journeying into the untamed Welsh countryside in search of an inheritance she's not sure even exists -- one reportedly controlled by Rhodrick Glendower, Earl of Radnor, also known as the Prince of Powys. Rumor has it that the prince is rough, ruthless -- even a murderer. But Greer never imagined that the brute would refuse to let her leave his remote castle until she has proven her identity. Or that she would find herself powerfully attracted to this passionately virile man whose gruff demeanor belies a proud and sensual nature. The further Greer falls under his spell, the more determined she becomes to unravel the secrets of her Welsh heritage and the mystery surrounding the dark prince who dares her to become his wife and princess.

About this title

About the Author

Julia London is a New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author of more than forty romantic fiction novels. She is the author of the critically acclaimed Highland Grooms historical series, including Wild Wicked Scot, Sinful Scottish Laird, Hard-Hearted Highlander, Devil in Tartan, Tempting the Laird, and Seduced by a Scot. She is also the author of several contemporary romances, such as the Homecoming Ranch series and the Lake Haven series, including Suddenly Dating, Suddenly in Love, and Suddenly Engaged. Julia is the recipient of the RT Book Reviews Award for Best Historical Romance and a six-time finalist for the prestigious RITA award for excellence in romantic fiction. She lives in Austin, Texas.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

One

Llanmair

Wales, 1820

For some inexplicable reason, the first thing that occurred to Greer Fairchild when three men -- robbers, for all she knew -- stopped the coach in which she and Mr. Percy were traveling was that the death of Mrs. Smithington, to whom Greer was a traveling companion, was not only tragic, but extremely inconvenient.

They had almost reached the foreboding Llanmair, having lumbered up a rutted road for the better part of an afternoon, yet the day's gloomy light had not faded so much that Greer couldn't distinguish the ancient gray castle from the crag on which it sat, rising high above the woods and mountains that surrounded it.

It was an imposing structure, four stories high, built with gray stone, and anchored by four turrets in each corner. They were so close to the castle! They were so close to ending Greer's ordeal, and now this!

"Stay here," Mr. Percy said, looking quite grim when the coach rattled and groaned to a halt at the approach of the three riders. "I shall speak with them." He climbed out of the carriage, shut the door soundly, and strode forward to the three men who now stood between Greer and the man in the castle who held her inheritance.

"This is not to be borne," she muttered under her breath. Not after all she'd endured in the last year. Not after her guardian aunt's death and the endless hours she'd spent with Mrs. Smithington in public coaches with people who thought nothing of bringing their chickens and dogs along with them. Not after all the bouncing she'd endured along every pit and rut as they'd traversed empty moors, or losing sight of the sun in forests so thick with trees that no light could filter through. She'd come within a quarter of a mile of the gates to what she hoped was her final destination, only to be stopped.

It was extremely vexing.

Greer peered out the window to where Mr. Percy had confronted the three men with his legs braced wide and his arms akimbo. She groaned with exasperation and laid her head against a torn squab. She supposed she ought to feel frightened of the men, being as far from civilization as she was, but she felt nothing but exhaustion and the grime of hard travel on her body. Not to mention the disgust of having traveled three days in the same gown, for it was bloody cold in Wales and the poor gown was the warmest garment she possessed.

"Astoundingly inconvenient," she said aloud.

Really, if Mrs. Smithington hadn't died when and where she did, poor thing, Greer might have made this trip to Wales in the summer, when the sun was bright and warm. Not now, in late autumn, when the weather was dreadfully cold and damp. She might have reached Llanmair, where the Prince of Thieves -- as she'd come to think of him -- supposedly lived in half the time it had taken them over these ridiculously muddy and pitted roads.

But then poor Mrs. Smithington had lain down for a nap on the very day Greer reached her uncle's dilapidated and long-sought estate. The elderly woman had just lain down and never awoke. It was a horrible way to die -- alone, with no relatives save one distant nephew, her heir, in London. While it was true Mrs. Smithington could be entirely too vexing, Greer had developed a certain exasperated fondness for her, and would not have wished such a lonely death on her.

Mrs. Smithington's tragic death, on top of everything else, made Greer wish she'd never come back to Wales. If it weren't for good Mr. Percy, she surely would have turned back for London along with Mrs. Smithington's effects. But Mr. Percy had encouraged her to continue on her journey.

The journey had begun a year ago, when Greer's legal guardian, Aunt Cassandra, Lady Downey, had died unexpectedly. Aunt Cassandra's second husband, Lord Downey, had no desire to support Greer or her cousins, Ava and Phoebe, and had firmly and eagerly stated he was prepared to give them to whoever asked for their hand, regardless of social standing or fortune, or their wishes in the matter.

That was intolerable enough, but as Greer was merely the ward of Lady Downey, she was at the greatest disadvantage. She had no family or fortune left with which to entice a proper suitor, even if Lord Downey were inclined to see her married well. All she had of her past was an old letter, a few minor possessions that had belonged to her mother, whom she could scarcely remember, and fragments of memories that included an elderly uncle, a distant father, and no siblings.

Desperate to keep herself and her cousins from the fate Lord Downey would condemn them to, and knowing that her father had died several years ago without siring an heir, Greer had embarked on this wretched journey to find her uncle and ask after an inheritance she wasn't even certain existed. She had no knowledge of her father's fortune, or if he even had one, but she thought certainly there must have been something left of the man's life. And if there was something left, it surely would have been left to her father's brother.

It was a fragile hope, but a hope nonetheless.

Unfortunately, the only way she could possibly afford to travel to Wales was as the companion of the ancient and constantly complaining Mrs. Smithington, who wanted to see the "wild bits of England."

After traveling for months in the company of Mrs. Smithington, Greer had finally reached Bredwardine, an English village on the border of Wales, where she found her uncle's estate shockingly dilapidated. The vague memory she held of a grand home with lush lawns and fountains was a fantasy. The house was little more than a manor, not a mansion, and there was no lawn surrounding it, just a small yard with an old pig wandering aimlessly about.

The only inhabitants of the house were an aging caretaker and his wife. Moreover, most of the rooms had been emptied of furniture long ago -- there was no place to sit, no place to rest, save two rooms at the very top of the stairs, which, for reasons Greer did not want to contemplate, still boasted two old and lumpy featherbeds. And as Greer had wandered about that afternoon pondering what on earth she would do now, Mrs. Smithington had begun to complain of feeling poorly.

Greer thought nothing of it at the time. Mrs. Smithington had complained endlessly since they'd left London. They'd no sooner left the outer limits of the city when she'd begun to carp about the weather (too rainy), the condition of the roads (too rutted), and the fact that there really wasn't very much to see once one traveled through so many miles of rolling countryside (too many trees and too far from London).

At first, Greer had found the woman's complaining amusing in an odd sort of way, but it quickly grew tiresome, especially when Greer was the one forced to hold hatboxes or small trunks in her lap while they traveled in tight public coaches.

But then Mr. Percy had boarded their coach in Ledbury and had proceeded to compliment Mrs. Smithington's youthful smile and claimed to be shocked by her advanced age. Dear Mr. Percy, tall and handsome with brown locks and shining hazel eyes, could have charmed the gray right from Mrs. Smithington's head if he'd so desired.

By the time they reached Herefordshire, Mrs. Smithington had persuaded Mr. Percy to accompany them to Wales with the excuse that "in the company of a gentleman, no one will prey on two poor unmarried females."

Greer imagined that even the most depraved of villains would be deterred by Mrs. Smithington's constant complaining, but Mr. Percy's attention to Mrs. Smithington had been a welcome relief for her. Not only was he exceedingly charming, he was also a very good escort. He was very solicitous of their needs.

Actually, it was in the course of Mr. Percy's particular attention to her that Greer learned what had happened to her uncle. On occasion, when Mrs. Smithington would retire early, Greer and Mr. Percy would sit by the fire in whatever inn they happened to be residing in and chat. He would invariably compliment her -- her eyes as blue as the deep sea, her hair as black as India ink. Greer found his compliments lovely, but having been out two Seasons in London, she was hardly diverted by such talk.

Eventually, he felt comfortable enough to explain how a gentleman of his obvious standing had come to be riding the public coach. As it happened, he was returning to Wales to try and reason with a ruthless relative who had stolen his rightful inheritance and cast him out of his family home, all for the crime of having an English father. It was a sinister tale, and while Mr. Percy put a very brave face on it, Greer thought his relative criminally deplorable.

The story was so deplorable that she felt compelled to likewise confess that she was looking for her paternal uncle, the last known male relative on her father's side, who had hailed from Bredwardine. But when she mentioned her uncle's name to Mr. Percy, a strange look came over his face. "Randolph Vaughan?" he'd repeated incredulously, and suddenly leaned forward, took Greer's hand in his, looked at her with eyes full of sympathy, and said, "Miss Fairchild, it is my sad duty to inform you that Mr. Randolph Vaughan has ...died."

Greer gasped. "Died?"

"Kicked by a horse he was gelding. The poor man lingered for days but never recovered."

"Oh," Greer had said, quite at a loss upon hearing the unexpected news. "Oh my."

"Ah, but you mustn't fret," Mr. Percy had said with a confident squeeze of his hand. "I know there are more of your kin in Wales."

"More?" she'd asked, confused. "But I thought my Uncle Vaughan was the last one."

"Of your family, perhaps. But his wife's family was rather prominent."

Greer had felt quite confused, and remembered asking, "If I may, sir...how do you know so much about the Vaughan family?"

"Oh, that's quite simple, really," he'd said with a charming smile that instantly put her at ease. "Wales is rather like a small village -- Wel...

Edition details

• Publisher: Pocket Star
• Publication date: 2007
• ISBN 10: 1416516166
• ISBN 13: 9781416516163
• Binding: Mass Market Paperback
• Language: English
• Number of pages: 384