Page 57 of A Royal Kiss & Tell
He moved to stand beside her and look out, too. They stood that way for several long and silent moments. Or maybe only a single moment. Caroline was losing track of time—all her senses were trained on his presence beside her. “You like children,” she said.
“Pardon?”
“I saw you playing with the girls earlier.”
“Ah.” He turned around, putting his back to the window so that he could face her. “I do like children, very much. Do you?”
“Yes.” She tapped a finger against her wine glass. “Do you ever think of having your own? What they will look like?”
He gave her a curious smile. “I suppose I have. Doesn’t everyone, at some point?”
She didn’t, really. She assumed she would have them, but with no real prospect of it, she didn’t think much about what her future children might look like, who they might be. “Well... I wish you and Lady Eulalie many happy, healthy children.”
Leopold’s countenance sobered instantly. “Yes.” He glanced away.
Caroline instantly felt contrite. She hadn’t meant to be rude; she’d meant to be polite. But given the turn their acquaintance had taken, it sounded a bit...petulant. She’d only said what was in her thoughts. What was somuchin her thoughts suddenly. “I’m sorry—”
“No, don’t be,” he said quickly. “It’s a fair point.” He turned his gaze to her again and smiled sadly. “I find no joy in the inevitability of a match I did not seek.”
It surprised her that he would confess something like that to her. Of course it wasn’t a match he would seek—princes weren’t allowed to marry whomever they pleased. It hadn’t been that long ago that the Royal Marriages Act had been passed to keep royals from marrying people deemed unsuitable for the royal family. Leopold’s own brother had taken a great risk when he’d chosen Eliza—he could have been stripped of his investiture if his father had demanded it.
She suddenly felt a strange sort of sympathy for Leopold. How awful it must be to know all his life that the most important relationship he might have likely would not be of his own choosing. “Matches rarely are what we seek, I suppose.”
He gave her a distant smile. He glanced down at his glass and asked, “What about you, Lady Caroline? Is there a match you seek? Children you want?”
She shook her head. “I should like children one day, of course. But if I am honest, I don’t see it happening.”
He chuckled, as if she were being precocious. “Why not?”
“I don’t know, really, but when I picture my life, I see only me and Beck.” She smiled, ashamed to admit that was true. “We’re an odd little pair, my brother and I.”
“Circumstances have a way of bonding siblings to each other. For me and Bas, it was the box we were forced into as royal sons. For you and Beck, I would think it the tragic loss of parents at such a young age.”
That was true and perceptive of the prince—she and Beck had been inseparable all their lives, really. Beck had only been fourteen when their mother had died, their father gone long before that.
“How is Lady Norfolk?” he asked.
“She is...”Distraught. Devastated.Caroline shook her head. She was feeling so many confusing things just now. “She is very pregnant.”
“Ah. Perhaps she will feel at ease on the morrow when I take my leave.” He glanced around them, then said softly, “I heard them arguing last night, so I’m rather clear on her thoughts about me.”
“Oh dear.” If Augusta had been as plain with her husband as she had been with her, then Leopold knew everything. “I think only the birth of this child will put her at ease, really. She’s not herself.”
He lifted his glass of wine. “To Lady Norfolk’s health.”
“To her health.” She touched her glass to his and their gazes met—and held. It felt almost as if they were suspended in a space where only they existed. She could feel the same energy thrumming between them as she’d felt when he kissed her in the coach. A flush that betrayed her was creeping into her cheeks.
The spell was broken by the butler, who entered and announced rather grandly to His Grace the Duke that supper was served.
“Ah, splendid,” Norfolk said, and strode across the room to offer Caroline his arm. “Shall we?”
In the dining room, Caroline was seated directly across from Leopold. She lost track of the conversation—something to do with horse racing, of course. She kept looking up and catching Leo’s gaze on her. She watched how he laughed and teased his friends, how he respectfully offered his thoughts and advice when asked. Who was this man? Was he the same man who took a woman from a brothel for his pleasure? The more she was near him, the more she felt as if she didn’t know him at all.
She couldn’t stop stealing looks at him. In the glow of the candlelight, she couldn’t stop wondering what if.
What if, what if, what if.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
