Page 15 of A Royal Kiss & Tell
Leo bowed. “Your Grace,” he said to the duke. “My lady.”
They exchanged a few pleasantries, and the duke offered felicitations on the occasion of Sebastian’s marriage, then deftly stepped away under the pretense of speaking to Sir Ravaneaux, leaving Leo and Lady Eulalie alone...except for the attendance of dozens upon dozens of onlookers.
Lady Eulalie had small brown eyes and full lips, and her hair was the color of English tea. She arched a brow as she gave him a very thorough once-over, as if he were the milk cow she was considering purchasing. “I understand we are to befriend each other, Your Highness, and do it rather quickly.”
He appreciated her forthright manner and that she’d dispensed with the tedium of asking how he found the weather this time of year or mentioning how grand the ball. “I understand the same.”
“I’ve only recently been made aware of this friendship, so if I may make one small request?”
He nodded.
“I should like it to be quick.” She glanced away from him and across the ballroom.
Leo followed her gaze and noticed a stately Weslorian captain staring back at her. Well. At least she was open about her true intentions. He didn’t know how he felt about such openness, but he couldn’t help but admire it. “I will make this initial meeting as quick as the horse your ambassador boasts about.”
She laughed with surprise. “Hedoesboast. I’ll go first, if I may?”
“Of course.”
“May I compliment you on how well your brother looked today? His bride is lovely.”
“Thank you. Very kind of you to say.”
“She is an English commoner, is she not?”
It was not a question, but a comment that Leo supposed he was to confirm or deny. He didn’t suspect Lady Eulalie was doing anything more than attempting to make small talk as the situation required, but the question rankled him nonetheless. He hated that sort of question—it was not meant to inform, but to get at the heart of the matter: who outranked whom. He wished he was at the Foxhound with a tankard of ale instead of playing this game. Mercy, how soon he’d forgotten his vow not to drink. “She is not,” he said politely. “At least not anymore.”
Lady Eulalie laughed with delight. “Quite true,” she cheerfully agreed.
The trumpets suddenly blared from an alcove above their heads, announcing the arrival of the happy couple.
“Ah, here they are now, the handsome prince and his very fortunate bride,” Lady Eulalie said, and craned her neck forward to see. A line of English soldiers marched into the room beside a line of Alucian soldiers, and in a choreographed move, they turned to face one another, unsheathed their swords and held them aloft, crossing the tips. The effect was to form an aisle. A moment later, Bas and Eliza entered. Bas was dressed in his full military regalia, and Eliza in a frothy peach gown. She had donned a crown that Leo recognized as belonging to the royal collection. Her hand was on Bas’s arm, and from where Leo stood, he could see the slight tremor in her. He hoped one day soon she would become accustomed to all the attention—she would have it all her life.
He, along with everyone else in the ballroom, respectfully bowed to the future king and queen as they passed, and when he straightened up, he looked to his left to follow their progress to the dais. But when he did, instead of seeing the dais, he saw the glittering green eyes of Lord Hawke’s sister, the one who was clearly convinced of her own appeal. What was her name, for God’s sake? Why could he not recall it?
Leo liked Hawke quite a lot. He’d met him at a gentlemen’s club in London one evening some months ago, when they’d ended up at a gaming table together. They’d had a good laugh. They’d seen each other at various occasions since. But it was Hawke’s arrival in Alucia that had sparked their friendship. Leo had spent quite a lot of time in the gentleman’s company and now considered him a friend.
His sister, however, was a nuisance. Even now, when the entire ballroom seemed to understand that he and Lady Eulalie were to be allowed this moment, she was smiling at him with the eagerness of someone who meant to hop over to his side for a chat.
He averted his gaze. He was quite good at ignoring pointed looks. And women who smiled too eagerly. And women who thought they could merely bat their eyes and he would demand an introduction and offer her a kingdom. He was good at ignoring men, too, particularly those who wanted to know him with a hope for gain. And practiced politicians who wanted to whisper in his ear.
A pretty, green-eyed English miss was no challenge for him.
Bas and Eliza had walked the length of the ballroom to the throne dais and Eliza curtsied. The king stepped down from his throne and took Eliza’s hand, then escorted her up to the dais to sit in the chair beside him. Bas took his seat beside her. His father gestured to the couple and began to applaud. Everyone in the ballroom joined in, their applause hearty, shouting,“Vivat regiis reginae!”
Long live the royal princess.
The orchestra began to play in earnest, and it was official—against all possible odds in the known universe, Eliza Tricklebank was a Chartier, a member of the Alucian royal family.
“People are staring at us,” Lady Eulalie murmured.
“They will always stare,” Leo said, trying not to sound bitter about it.
“Yes, I suppose. The two of us have been tossed into a tiny boat on this sea of hopeful diplomacy, and we must make do with each other.”
At least she understood the rules of the game. “It would seem so.” He glanced at her, but Lady Eulalie’s attention was directed across the room, to her lover. Leo supposed he ought to be bothered by her brazen regard for the captain while standing next to him, and maybe he was, but at the moment, he couldn’t summon enough heart to care. Maybe they could enter this devil’s bargain with no expectations whatsoever. Perhaps he ought to keep more of an open mind about...
Leo was startled by what felt like an elbow or a shoulder to his back. He jerked around and looked right into the eyes of Hawke’s sister.
