Page 21 of Innocent in the Prince's Bed

Dove was making other comparisons, too, that strayed into the dangerous realm of the physical. Illarion was tall, broad shouldered, with strong hands that took command simply through touch. These men were medium in height and mediocre in all things. Their touch didn’t command, their gaze didn’t ignite, their conversation didn’t challenge. She couldn’t envision having a heated conversation with any of them, let alone one that led to stolen kisses in a public park. That was the most dangerous comparison of them all. She could not imagine any level of enjoyable physical intimacy with the men on her dance card. None of them sent a thrill through her with a single touch.

Perhaps that was why debutantes weren’t supposed to sneak out into gardens and kiss young men. It created all sorts of expectations that had nothing to do with titles, land and wealth, and who one’s family was. In other words, none of the items parents considered valuable when steering their daughters towards ‘advantageous marriages’. A young girl’s idea of what constituted ‘advantageous’ might be quite different after a walk in the gardens. And yet, the practical side of her took her father’s words seriously. The Prince might excite her with kisses, but his behaviours were unpredictable in word and deed, his credentials unreliable, his antecedents questionable. He was from a place London knew little about despite the novelty London conferred on him.

Even so, Dove found herself looking for him. By the eighth dance—a waltz with Percivale—she was wondering if he would come tonight. Would she look across the ballroom and see him striding through the crowd? Towards her? Her mind had to separate the two ideas. He could attend the ball without intending to see her. After all, he’d already spent considerable time with her today and he’d got a reddened cheek for his efforts. Why would he want to seek her out? She should hope that he didn’t. She had no business fostering her curiosity over an unsuitable man and yet part of her hungered for a glimpse, for another bout, for another shocking conversation. Was this how it started with the other women, the women she’d seen trailing after him at her godmother’s last night?

Dove focused on Percivale’s conversation as he led her into supper—something about his grandmother’s estate in Hereford and its apple orchards—and promised herself she would not become like those other women. She would never be desperate for a man. But she could be disappointed by one. Tonight she was disappointed by two: by Illarion, who wasn’t coming, and by Percivale, because he had.

She ought to be grateful for Percivale. He was the catch of the Season and every girl in the room would kill to be her. Miss Sarah Tomlinson, especially. The girl had looked daggers at her all night, blaming her for monopolising Percivale’s attentions. If Miss Tomlinson wanted Percivale, she was more than welcome to him. But Dove knew Miss Tomlinson would never step up to take him. There was a pecking order, after all. Miss Tomlinson was an earl’s granddaughter, nothing more. She would never impose on a duke’s daughter’s claim. A naughty thought came to Dove. Maybe she should affect an introduction? Then it would be up to Miss Tomlinson to dazzle Percivale.

‘Perhaps we might sit over there?’ She gestured to Miss Tomlinson’s table where two chairs were available. Percivale smiled obligingly. It was the first thing that had gone well tonight. And it was the last.

* * *

At the end of the evening, despite her best efforts, Percivale stayed glued to her side. There’d been moments of hope. He’d asked Miss Tomlinson to dance after supper, but had quickly returned to Dove’s side afterwards.

‘Percivale is suitably loyal to you,’ her mother summed up in the carriage on the way home. ‘He stayed with you as much as propriety allows.’ Clung was more apropos. He’d been a veritable barnacle. ‘You managed him beautifully, never seeming to dominate him,’ her mother complimented. ‘Sitting with Miss Tomlinson was brilliant. It allowed you to appear generous and yet there was no real risk of losing his attentions.’

Dove gave her a mother a cool stare. She had not thought of her overture in terms of how it would appear to others. ‘I simply thought, since her family is political, that the two of them would enjoy conversation together.’

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