Page 222 of Ten Lords for the Holidays

The words surprised a short laugh from Sebastian. “I’m sure you’re mistaken. Miss Eliana clearly holds me in the lowest contempt.”

“She’ll come around, as long as you don’t disappoint her any further.” Lord Blake moved to stand before Sebastian, and fixed him with a penetrating look. “But that leads me to the point. What are your intentions concerning Eliana?”

Throat suddenly dry, Sebastian swallowed. He was unused to being so off balance. For the second time in a handful of minutes, Lord Blake had made him feel like a bumbling young man, not a confident prince. But unlike his own father, the viscount did not seem interested in grinding Sebastian into the dirt because of it.

“Well?”

“I had hoped to further my acquaintance with your daughter,” Sebastian said warily.

Damnation, how could he explain himself to Lord Blake when he himself was not certain of his motivations? Acting on impulse was never a good idea—which was why he so very rarely did so.

“To what end?” The viscount raised his brows. Though his expression remained mild, his voice had taken on an edge. “I trust that you are acting as an honorable gentleman, your highness.”

“Of course. I am not attempting to lead your daughter astray, Lord Blake, I assure you.”

At least, not much. Sebastian wouldn’t say no to another kiss from Miss Eliana, but the chance of that was about as small as a snowflake surviving the heart of a fire.

“Or break her heart in attempted revenge?” the viscount asked.

Sebastian blinked at the man. “I don’t follow you, my lord.”

Lord Blake leaned forward. “Surely you’re aware that Lady Peony Talbot is Eliana’s good friend. Perhaps you still harbor some ill will toward that young lady.”

“You are more devious than I, to think of such a scheme,” Sebastian said. “While I’m unhappy for the misunderstanding last year and am not overly fond of my subsequent nickname, I am not bent on revenge.”

“Then you forgive Lady Peony?”

Sebastian blinked. Did the viscount suspect the truth about Lady Peony’s lies? “How much do you know of what transpired? Was your daughter—”

“No. Eliana thinks the best of everyone. I don’t think it occurred to her to question her friend’s version of events. But others have, your highness, and draw a slightly different conclusion.”

Sebastian let out a deep breath—one he felt like he’d been holding for the better part of a year. He hadn’t looked for understanding from anyone, and his respect for Lord Blake’s perceptiveness rose yet again.

“I could not make any accusations, of course,” Sebastian said.

“I understand.” Lord Blake reached over and thumped his shoulder. “You have my permission to court my daughter. Now, let us not keep Eliana and her companion waiting. This snow won’t last forever.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Eliana could not believehow terribly Count Nikolai—that is, Prince Sebastian—had deceived her. The nerve of the man, to invite her for a sleigh ride, and think he could keep up his foolish pretense!

And she had kissed him.

Mortification heated her cheeks, even as the cold air swept over her face. The sleigh glided smoothly over the snowy streets, the horse’s bridle jingling merrily, its hoofbeats a muffled thud over the hidden cobblestones.

Eliana had tried to insist that Hetty sit between herself and the deceitful prince as they went out to the sleigh. Her companion had shaken her head and pushed Eliana ahead of her to mount the low step into the vehicle.

“Think how it would look, miss,” she’d said. “People will remark, to see you sitting on the outside, and you don’t want that.”

No, Eliana didn’t. The less attention anyone paid to them, the better.

So here she was, settled uncomfortably close to the prince, with Hetty on her other side. Taking up far too much room, in Eliana’s opinion.

She’d told her companion everything—well, leaving out the kiss—and to her dismay, Hetty had found it very romantic.

The prince glanced down at her as they neared the gates of Hyde Park. “Will a quick turn about the park be amenable?”

“Certainly,” Hetty answered, before Eliana could decline. “I imagine the trees look lovely, all covered in snow.”

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