Page 69 of A Royal Kiss & Tell
Redbane sighed. “I would be remiss,” he said carefully, “if I were to allow you to believe that such a gathering would be...well attended.”
“Is that so,” Leo said. He sniffed back a wave of offense. He was still a bloody prince, wasn’t he?
“I mean no offense, Highness,” Redbane hastened to assure him.
“Offense taken,” Leo muttered.
Redbane’s face began to pinken. “It, ah...it has to do with what some perceive as your proclivities.”
“My proclivities? I have no proclivities, Redbane. I am proclivitless.”
“With housemaids and...women of the night.” Redbane whispered the last part. “And...and it has been suggested that perhaps you should return to Alucia.”
Leo stiffened. “Women of the night, Redbane? You mean prostitutes, for heaven’s sake. We are grown men here.”
Redbane turned redder. He cleared his throat. But it wasn’t this poor man’s fault. It was solely on Leo’s shoulders, and he couldn’t let the ambassador suffer any longer. He waved a hand at him. “Pay me no heed, sir. I’ve heard the same. Has the king heard the rumors, as well?”
“I can’t say for certain,” Redbane said carefully. “But I would suspect that he has. I have received word from the foreign secretary that you are to depart for Alucia as soon as is reasonably possible.” He handed him a folded vellum, sealed in wax and stamped with the official signet of the king of Alucia.
Leo took the vellum from him. “You’ve been holding out on me,” he said with a wry smile. He didn’t break the seal right away. “Fine. But there is something I must do before I leave England.” Leo abruptly stood up. “Will you send Josef to me?”
The ambassador came to his feet. He bowed and went out. When Josef appeared, Leo said, “I mean to go round to Lord Hawke’s house this afternoon.”
“Je, as you wish, Your Highness.”
What he wished was beyond Josef’s capacity to provide. He wanted to find all five women and see Caroline again. Beyond that, he didn’t know any more. He couldn’t imagine it. He couldn’t imagine being married to Lady Eulalie and thinking of a beautiful blonde woman in England every day for the rest of his life, but he feared that was his fate.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
A gentleman who inherited a fortune invested it all so heavily in a defunct railway that now he is left penniless. Reports are that there is keen interest in his Mayfair abode, which now stands empty.
An unfortunate encounter with a candle nearly set Lady Hogarth aflame. It is highly recommended that one not stand so close to the dinner buffet when dressed in formal wear.
The number of potential suitors for the sister of a baron has grown, as word of a sizable dowry has spread like the Great Fire of London.
—Honeycutt’s Gazette of Fashion and
Domesticity for Ladies
FORONCE, BECKhad proven himself to be dreadfully serious in his quest to see Caroline married, particularly after they returned from Sussex.
Two days ago, he’d wandered into her room and had surveyed the bolts of cloth and dress forms before leveling a gaze on Caroline. She was seated on the floor with her legs crossed, still in her dressing gown, poring over fashion plates.
“What has happened?” he asked, casting one arm out. “Has a cyclone struck? An earthquake? Has a gang ransacked our home?”
“You’re so amusing, Beck! As you can see, I am making dresses.”
“When did this become your leisurely pursuit? I’ve never known you to give your attention to anything other than the post and the invitations that might be there.”
“That is not true. I’ve been interested in very many things, but you’re so busy with your carousing you haven’t noticed. If you aretrulyinterested, I’ve always been fascinated with the latest styles, but my desire to make my own began when the Alucians arrived in town.”
“Alucians have been in London since the dawn of time,” Beck pointed out.
“You’re right—my interest peaked when theroyalAlucians came to London. Why do you care?”
“Because I’d rather not scare off any potential suitors with bolts of cloth and dress forms and any other indication of your wretched spending habits,” he said, fluttering his fingers at the piles of cloth. “Lord March was quite plainly frightened.”
She shrugged.
