Page 25 of A Royal Kiss & Tell
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 lackingdecorum?”
“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 lackdecorum, 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? Iamproud! Why should I not be proud? I’m a good friend, a caring person and I happen to be exceedingly personable.AndI’m an excellent dressmaker, too! So yes, I am proud. Aren’t you proud ofyou?”
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,thankyou for clarifying that we are not quitefriends, as that assumption, apparently, is a stunning lack of decorum. You are sogenerousto allow me to consider us acquainted. I cannot begin to describe the leaps of joy my heart is taking just now. What Icansay 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 athismouth 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
AWEEKHADpassed 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.
