Page 46 of A Royal Kiss & Tell
“Who decreed that I must be a wife or a mother? This is precisely the reason I do not entertain the idea of marriage, Beck. Men think they know all there is to know. Perhaps I’d like to be an artist instead.”
Beck sat down in the chair behind his desk and leaned back, templing his fingers. “That would be well and good, darling, had you ever shown theslightestinterest in becoming an artist. I hired an art tutor for you when you were seventeen, you may recall, and you deliberately painted as horribly as you could to chase him away. The only interest you’ve shown is being invited to the next social gathering.”
“At which I excel, thank you. And I didn’t say Iwillbe an artist. I was making a point. I might like to be a dressmaker. I happen to be very good at it.”
Beck snorted. “You will not be a dressmaker. I spoke to the prince about it, and he—”
Caroline let out a bark of laughter before her brother could finish. “Your friendLeo? Your dear, dear friend who has been uninvited to everything in the last fortnight? He knows nothing.” She swiped up another piece of cheese.
She noticed Beck had stilled. When he didn’t give her a snippy little retort, Caroline looked at him. “What?”
“I was about to say,Caroline, that I spoke to the prince about it, who happens to be standing just there.”
An icy scrape went down her spine. The top of her head buzzed. She stared at Beck for a long moment before she pushed her hair from her face and made herself turn around to see. The prince was indeed standing there, his back against the wall, one dark brow arched. He gave her a half-hearted wave. She hadn’t seen him because the door was open and impeding her view, and her bloody hair had obscured the rest of her vision. She whipped back around to Beck. “Why didn’t youtellme he was here?”
“I should think it obvious, seeing as how he isjust there,” he said, gesturing emphatically toward the prince. “And by the bye, what do you know about the invitations being recalled?”
“Nothing!”
Beck narrowed his gaze.
“And what, pray tell, did the illustrious Royal Highness have to say for my deplorable status of being an unmarried woman?” She knew quite a lot about those invitations, as it happened. It was she, after all, who had suggested to Lady Norfolk that she might want to postpone her soiree, given Lady Montgomery’s rather visceral reaction to the gossip surrounding the prince. Priscilla had relayed to Caroline that while having tea with Lady Montgomery, she’d mentioned the prince’s unsavory habits, and Lady Montgomery had nearly choked on her crumpet, and screeched for her secretary then and there and demanded the invitation be rescinded at once.
Also, Lady Norfolk was terribly pregnant and terribly cross. Caroline had assumed, on her friend’s behalf, that the anxiety would be too much.
“Watch your tongue, Caroline,” Beck warned her. “Naturally, he said what any man would say—that it’s well past time you married.”
“Ah—with all due respect, Beck, that is not exactly what I said,” the prince politely demurred.
“It was implied,” Beck said impatiently.
“Whatdidyou say?” Caroline asked, turning back to the prince.
“Caro, please! Do not speak to His Royal Highness as if he were some servant to be interrogated for a missing spoon!”
“It’s quite all right,” the prince said. “I merely said that in Alucia most women are married by the time they are twenty. It was an observation, that’s all.” And now he was observing her hair with a curious look.
“And you arewellpast twenty, Caro,” Beck needlessly pointed out.
Ooh, she would strangle Beck when they were alone. Why was it she could never meet the prince when she looked her best? Why must she always look so bedraggled? He’d been casually looking on all the while she was standing with her hair half down and stuffing cheese into her mouth.
She slowly turned back to her brother. “You’re right, Beck. I should marry. Bring on the suitors, then. Bring them now! If theprincesays it—”
“Again, I did not say it,” the prince said quickly. “I simply had a conversation with a friend—I didn’t mean to offer advice.”
“But you did.”
“Caro! For God’s sake, he is a prince of Alucia! Show some respect!” Beck bellowed.
“My lord?”
Caroline and Beck turned toward the door at the same moment. Garrett had stepped inside, unnoticed by them, and interrupted what Caroline felt was the prelude to a brawl. “My lord, there is a gentleman at the door about the horse.”
“Ah!” Beck grinned and hopped to his feet. “That must be the stable master where I intend to house my horse when she arrives. Fine blocks of stables they are, too—the queen’s Horse Guard is stabled there.” He started for the door but paused to look at Caroline. “This would be an opportune time to do something with your hair,” he added, his fingers fluttering in the direction of the fallen tress that drooped over her shoulder as he hurried out.
Caroline made a face at his back and remained where she was, her arms folded. When she was certain he was gone, she pivoted around and marched to where the prince stood behind the open door.
He seemed alarmed at first and straightened as if he thought he might have to do battle. But then he quickly clasped his hands at his back, his legs braced apart, and seemed to prepare himself for whatever she had to say.
