A Royal Kiss & Tell Page 9

  It was a pity she was part loon.

  “Contrary to what the British might think, they don’t rule the world, much less the seas,” Harrak opined.

  “Mmm.” Leo watched as Lady Eulalie approached Eliza now with another Weslorian in tow. Eulalie Gaspar was an interesting woman, too, wasn’t she? She seemed pleasant, and sensible enough about the reality of the situation they’d been thrust into. And yet he felt a current of something underneath her smile that made him uncomfortable. The odd sensation one gets when someone is laughing behind one’s back. But it was unreasonable to think she had any impression of him at all, really—he’d only met her last night, had one dance with her.

  Did she know what was said of her father? Surely not. Hopefully not. But what if she did?

  All right, he was allowing his anxiety pull him into delusional thinking. There was nothing there, behind his back or otherwise. Eulalie was as rattled as he was about this proposed match between them, that was all.

  “Will you speak to the king, then?” Harrak asked.

  Leo hadn’t heard a word the man had said. “Je, of course.” Another white lie to add to the stacks of them he’d told through the years. Yes, of course I can help you. Yes, whatever you need. Yes, I will bring it to the king’s attention straight away.

  Harrak smiled. “Thank you, Your Highness. Thank you.”

  Leo smiled thinly and excused himself. People always assumed he had influence in this kingdom, when in fact he had none. If he were to mention to his father that British imperialism was not appreciated the world over, his father would think he’d lost his mind.

  “Leo?”

  Leo stopped midstride and turned around to the sound of his brother’s voice. Bas was grinning. “Bloody hell, Bas,” Leo said with a chuckle. “Have you stopped smiling since your wedding?”

  “I have not,” he said jovially. “I was just off to fetch my lovely bride and have this evening over and done. I won’t lie, Leo—I’m impatient for Tannymeade.”

  “God help you, you’re randy.”

  “Impressively so,” Bas said with a wink.

  “I envy you,” Leo said. “Have you seen the woman who will be my wife?”

  “Eulalie?” Bas shrugged. “She’s handsome enough.”

  She was handsome, but she lacked the charm that came to Eliza quite naturally.

  “Why the long face, brother? Did you expect your future bride to be suitable in mien and compatible in all ways?” Bas teased him. “Do you recall what you used to say to me?”

  Leo shook his head.

  “Get her, bed her, put a child in her and be on your way.”

  Leo winced. He had indeed said that, and more than once. It was easy advice to give, but it was not easy advice to follow.

  Bas clapped him on the shoulder. “Come, lad,” he said. “Let’s have this supper done so I can take my wife to bed.”

  “My God,” Leo complained. Bas laughed.

  They joined the ladies across the room. Eliza saw them first, and her smile flashed brilliantly warm. “My darling! Oh my, I still can’t believe I can say that before everyone,” Eliza said brightly. “Have you met the Duke of Sonderstein? He was just telling us that in Wesloria there is an ancient dial of stones that aligns with the stars and the moon.”

  “Your Highness,” the duke said politely as Lady Eulalie curtsied. Lady Caroline curtsied, too, but Leo noticed she was smiling. Always that incandescent smile of hers, cast at him as if they shared a secret.

  “May I offer my personal felicitations on the occasion of your marriage?” Sonderstein asked. “You are a fortunate man indeed to be surrounded by such beauty.”

  “I am indeed,” Bas agreed.

  “My good fortune came in the pleasure of the Alucian country dance with Lady Caroline,” the old man continued, then did a little swinging of the elbows in a manner that Leo guessed was to mimic dancing.

  Lady Caroline smiled pertly at Sonderstein, and said, with a sidelong look to Leo, “His Grace very kindly said my steps were excellent.”

  “Oh, indeed, they were,” the duke avowed. “I have rarely danced with such graceful a dancer.”

  “Were it not for Caroline’s instruction, I wouldn’t have danced at all,” Eliza said.

  “Oh dear, I can’t claim credit for your dancing,” Lady Caroline said, and she and Eliza laughed roundly.

  “Lady Caroline, you’re bound for England soon, are you not?” Lady Eulalie asked abruptly.

  “Pardon? Oh, yes! We set sail on the morrow. And you?”

  “I’m not due to leave for several days yet. My father has some rather important business to finish with the king.” She smiled slyly at Leo.

  Fingers of ice raced down his spine. He didn’t care for her insinuation. If there was an announcement to be made about him, he’d damn well make it himself. He kept his expression neutral and looked away from the group.

  “Should be fine sailing weather,” the old duke opined.

  “Aren’t you returning to England as well, Leopold?” Eliza asked.

  “As it happens. I sail tomorrow evening.”

  Lady Caroline gasped loudly. “So do I! What a coincidence! What a delight to share a ship with you, Highness. I am very good at whist, sir, I’ll warn you now.”

  “Oh, Caro... I think His Highness will be on a different ship,” Eliza said with a slight wince.

  “Really? Are there so many ships sailing to England from Helenamar on the same day?” Lady Caroline asked jovially. “An entire fleet, is it?”

  “Well, no,” Eliza said. “But I think there is a special ship for, ah...for the royal family?”

  Lady Eulalie coughed. She looked as if she was choking on a laugh.

  “Oh.” Lady Caroline seemed to take that in, then suddenly smiled again so brightly that Leo was a little amazed by it—she was bold as brass and hard to ruffle. “Of course you’ll need a special ship, Your Highness!” she said. “However could I think differently? I’m such a cake about these things.”

  “You’re not a cake, Caro,” Bas said. “It’s a mistake anyone might make.”

  “Perhaps not everyone,” Lady Eulalie murmured, and smiled as she toyed with the earring dangling from her lobe. But Leo could see her smile was not one of shared amusement. It was the sort of smile people used on witless children.

  “Why should you know how ships come and go?” Eliza added charitably. “It’s not the sort of education that is required of proper ladies.” She and Lady Caroline laughed again. They seemed to have their own unique sense of humor.

  “Your brother will miss you terribly,” Eliza said to Leopold. “And so will I, quite honestly. You’ve been so very helpful to me.”

  “It’s been my pleasure,” he said sincerely. He truly had come to adore Eliza.

  He noticed that Lady Caroline was smiling at him as if he’d directed his comment to her. Her smile was so dazzling that he realized he might have noticed it a moment too long. He quickly shifted his gaze to Eliza. “I’ll return to Alucia soon enough, once I’ve wrapped up my affairs in England,” he assured her. He had no idea what that meant, but it seemed to appease everyone when he said it. “I hope to return to the joyous news of a future arrival of a niece or nephew.”

  “Ha! Ha ha!” Eliza laughed hysterically.

  “By God’s grace,” Lady Eulalie agreed.

  “When the time is right,” Bas said.

  “Ah, there he is,” the duke said, looking over Lady Eulalie’s shoulder. “The Weslorian prime minister has arrived. If we may have your leave, Your Highness?” he asked, turning to Bas. At Bas’s nod, the old duke offered his arm to Lady Eulalie, and the two of them departed. Bas sighed with relief. “Now that the prime minister has deigned to join us, we might dine. I’m famished.”

  “Should we assemble the promenade?” Eliza asked. “Lord help me
, I’ve already forgotten the order—”

  “Don’t trouble yourself, darling,” Bas said. “We’ll go in informally and ask everyone to find places. Leo, you’ll escort Caro, will you?” He turned around and called for the butler. “Jando? Jando!” He waved the butler to him.

  Leo glanced at Lady Caroline. She frowned.

  “Jando, let them all proceed and find their places. Dinner is served.” He presented his arm to Eliza. “The duchess first, of course.”

  With another glorious smile, Eliza put her hand on Bas’s arm and they walked away, completely lost in each other.

  Leo must have sighed when he offered his arm to Lady Caroline, because her frown deepened.

  “What?” she demanded crossly. “It wasn’t my suggestion. I don’t like it any more than you do.”

  “I didn’t say a word.”

  “You needn’t say a word, as your displeasure is plainly written on your face. Really, why do you hate me?” she demanded as she put her hand on his arm.

  He arched a brow with surprise. “There is nothing plainly written on my face but the tedium of another wedding celebration. And I don’t hate you—how could I? I don’t know you. Well,” he said after a slight hesitation. “I suppose I do know you now, don’t I? You’ve made certain of it.”

  “I understand that the concept of cordiality doesn’t come easy to you, Highness, but many of us who don’t reside in palaces practice it frequently.”

  “Cordiality? Is that what you call it?”

  “I call it any number of things. Civility. Manners. Conduct becoming a polite society. Friends, even, as we are practically related by marriage now. You should look them all up in your palace manual of etiquette. I think you will find some illuminating entries under ‘enviable traits of the common folk.’”

  He snorted his opinion. “And you may find some entries worth your perusal under ‘questionable traits of the common folk,’ madam, and particularly, the rules of engagement with royalty.”

  She gaped at him. “Are you accusing me of lacking decorum?”

  “I am indeed. Will you walk?”

  Caroline moved her feet. “Once again, your grasp of social conduct confounds me! You confuse effortless congeniality with some broken rule of etiquette that has been quite forgotten by the world at large. I do not lack decorum, sir, but I swear on Beck’s life you could very well push me to it.”

  “Ack, but you are a bloody obstinate woman, Lady Caroline. On my life, I can think of no other who could react so vainly to a proper chastisement. It’s a wonder your brother hasn’t told you.”

  “Ha! What makes you think he hasn’t told me so? He is as insufferably superior as you, which I would think you might have noticed, given that your feathers have flocked together with his. I’d rather be vain than ill-mannered like you.”

  He nearly choked on that. “Ill-mannered? Your pride astonishes me at every turn! I am unaccustomed to being so completely contradicted every time I speak. Do you treat every gentleman of your acquaintance in this manner, or do you reserve this behavior solely for princes?”

  Lady Caroline’s eyes turned a shade of green that he would have described as blistering, had it been possible for lovely green eyes to be blistering. “Well, I would ask the same of you, Your Highness—do you treat every lady in your acquaintance with such disdain? I am proud! Why should I not be proud? I’m a good friend, a caring person and I happen to be exceedingly personable. And I’m an excellent dressmaker, too! So yes, I am proud. Aren’t you proud of you?”

  They had reached the dining room, and he turned to face her. They were standing only inches apart, and her eyes continued to blaze just as hotly as the fire in his chest. She was defiant and beautiful and, bloody hell, he felt a twinge in his groin that was almost as strong as the thud at his temple.

  “Am I not demure enough for your liking? Do you find it difficult to establish friendships? Do you think women should be seen and not heard?”

  Inexplicably, his gaze dipped to her mouth and her full, succulent lips. And there his gaze lingered a fraction of a moment too long, much like it had lingered on her smile in the salon. He made himself lift his eyes. “Perhaps I have gone about this all wrong. If I may, Lady Caroline, allow me to ask you, as a gentleman and a prince, to stop perpetuating the fantasy of some sort of friendship between us. If it pleases you, you may consider us acquainted.”

  Those lush lips parted slightly with the sharp draw of her breath. Her eyes narrowed. “Why, thank you for clarifying that we are not quite friends, as that assumption, apparently, is a stunning lack of decorum. You are so generous to allow me to consider us acquainted. I cannot begin to describe the leaps of joy my heart is taking just now. What I can say is that I have never in my life been treated so abominably. You may be a prince, sir, but you are no gentleman.” And with that, she took a long look at his mouth with such intensity that he thought for a split second she might throw all caution to the wind and kiss him.

  And for a split second, he eagerly prepared himself for the possibility.

  Lady Caroline didn’t kiss him. She turned on her heel and flounced away.

  He watched her march across the room, find her seat and grip the back of her chair with both hands. When she realized that guests weren’t to be seated just yet, she glanced up and caught his gaze. She gave a shake of her head and turned away from him.

  Leo didn’t know if he should be royally offended.

  Or inspired.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  London, England

  Absence does not always make the heart grow fonder. A particular lady who notoriously enjoys the company of older gentlemen has just returned from a wedding in Alucia. It is whispered that her delight in having the attention of an Alucian gentleman in his prime has found her husband’s heart turned cold against her, and she’s been sent to their home in Kent so that she may contemplate her bad behavior.

  At a recent supper party of four and twenty souls, Lady Elizabeth Constantinople wore a gown of green silk in two tiers, each tier ending with a wide curve of Belgian lace that complemented the thinner bands of lace on the bodice and sleeves. The effect was serene, and we predict the style will be often replicated by ladies in the autumn.

  —Honeycutt’s Gazette of Fashion and

  Domesticity for Ladies

  A WEEK HAD passed since Caroline had arrived home from Alucia. The voyage had been brutal, as the seas were unusually rough and Caroline sick for days. Had it not been for Hollis’s attention, she was convinced she might now be dead. Even Beck had seemed concerned she might depart this life prematurely—she had a hazy memory of her brother entering the cabin and bending over her, his hand tenderly on her forehead, urging her to rally. “I would be terribly displeased if you were to die like this.”

  “Would you like a more dramatic demise?” Hollis had asked as she’d pushed him out of the cabin.

  Caroline thought she was fully recovered from her seasickness by the time they reached London. The weakness that lingered was simply fatigue. After all, she’d hardly eaten a thing in the last week, and her skirts hung loosely on her. And how glad she was to be free of the Alucian train! She had many ideas how to reinvent that train into something a bit more practical to wear.

  She’d spent the week unpacking and sleeping longer than normal. In the last day or two, she’d felt as if she’d taken cold. Last night at supper, when Beck asked her why she didn’t eat, she said she wasn’t hungry, and that he should keep an eye on his own plate. She didn’t know why she was so cross with him. With everything, really. Even her longtime lady’s maid, Martha, annoyed her, bustling about her room, preparing her toilette before bed. “Leave me, Martha!” she’d cried dramatically as she climbed onto her bed, still fully dressed. “I need quiet.”

  The next day, she felt even worse. She sent word to Beck through Martha that she’d had a late tea—true—and
that she wasn’t hungry for supper. Also true. But she hadn’t eaten at tea, either. Her head was pounding and her stomach churning. After a few miserable hours of that, she decided she ought to pour something scalding down her burning throat. She could have quite easily used the bellpull, but she’d now developed the strange fear that after her intense bout of seasickness, and now this cold, her legs might atrophy altogether and she’d be bedridden all her life and would never again dance a waltz. So she’d gamely forced herself out of bed and pulled a dressing gown around her. She used a handkerchief to dab at her runny nose and slowly made her way downstairs. She was alarmed by how dizzy she felt and how useless her legs were already beginning to feel, thus confirming her fears of utter demise.

  Just at the top of the grand staircase to the lower floors, she heard voices coming from the salon. Not just voices, but raucous laughter. How many were in that salon? It sounded like dozens. While she’d been wasting away upstairs, Beck had brought his friends to enjoy an evening of debauchery. She ought to die, just to spite him.

  Caroline backtracked to the servants’ stairs and slowly made her way down with the assistance of the wall. On the main floor, she padded in the opposite direction from the salon, dabbing at her leaky nose. But when she turned into the hall that led to the kitchen, she spotted a man and a woman in the shadows. Her first thought was that she must be hallucinating. It was not Beck’s habit to consort with the maids or to bring women into their home. She paused. She squinted. That was indeed a man with his back to her. But that man was not Beck. And there was indeed someone else, too, a woman, one considerably smaller than the man.