Page 27 of Innocent in the Prince's Bed

‘I apologise for not having anything to offer you.’ Illarion’s tone was generous, overlooking the insult. ‘But as you can see, you’ve caught us at the end of our refreshment.’ Translation: you are late to the party, old chap. The tray had been replenished several times already, but Illarion made no move to refill it now. Something competitive and primal sprang up between the two men.

‘No bother.’ Percivale dismissed the tray as unimportant. ‘I only stopped by to pay my respects.’ His gaze moved to her, his blue eyes lacking the lively flame of Illarion’s. They were empty, simply blue and nothing more. ‘I hope you enjoyed the exhibit, Lady Dove?’

She opened her mouth to reply, but he went on without stopping. ‘You didn’t find looking at all the art too tedious? There are so many pictures on the walls they all start to look alike.’ There was another strike against him. She’d been unable to imagine sharing the exhibit with Percivale and she’d been right. While Illarion had planned an outing that would please her, Percivale didn’t even know she enjoyed art. She could spend hours looking at the paintings, studying each line, each colour choice, each brush stroke, but he dismissed each individual work collectively within seconds. If he was a smart man, he would stop here. But Percivale wasn’t done with his self-immolation.

‘Such a to-do every year over paintings. It’s ridiculous the Royal Academy insists on creating a profession out of being an artist. A hobby is one thing, tolerable even. But encouraging it as a career in this day and age? It’s almost irresponsible.’ He was speaking to Illarion now. ‘I’m a scientist myself. Inventions, steam, industrialisation, that’s where true innovation lies.’

It took all her willpower not to argue that art was a form of human expression, a form of innovation that captured the essence of the human experience. But Dove needn’t have worried. Illarion was all too ready to make the argument on her behalf. ‘I think some might disagree with you, Percivale. Lady Dove, herself, is a fine artist. She draws, did you know?’

‘A fine hobby for a woman, something to occupy her time and her mind.’ Percivale nodded, oblivious to the caution, the clue, Illarion had tossed him. Dove, however, was not oblivious. Did Percivale think such remarks made him sound liberated? Illarion was making Percivale look like a fool. No, she amended. Illarion had given him a last lifeline to retract his tactless comment and Percivale had eschewed it.

‘Lady Dove was sharing with me that she runs a school in Cornwall for children where she teaches them painting and drawing.’ Illarion added, ‘So that they might have new channels of expression available to them. I think it’s quite noble of her.’

‘To be sure, Lady Dove is generous to those less fortunate,’ Percivale dismissed with a smile that bordered on condescending. ‘Do you have much industry where you’re from, Kutejnikov?’ The comment was meant as an insult against Kuban and its reported isolation, bordered by the Turks and not much else.

‘No,’ Illarion answered evenly with a misleading smile that implied friendship where there was none. ‘Unlike England, we have eschewed the ugliness of coal mines and factory cities for the natural beauty of nature.’ On that note, Illarion rose and offered an arm to her and to her mother. ‘Lady Dove, Lady Redruth, shall we go? I told my driver to bring the carriage around at four. He’ll be waiting for us. Lord Percivale, if you will excuse us?’ It was all masterfully done. One way to win an argument was to simply leave it. She would have to remember the tactic. It was a small satisfaction to be able to walk away while Lord Percivale was still picking his jaw up from the floor.

* * *

The Prince was making a perfect muddle of the Season! The man had no breeding. He’d dismissed a future duke, for heaven’s sake. What sort of gentleman behaved like that? Percivale was just glad no one had been about to see it. It had been humiliating. Never one to voice an opinion the majority might find unpopular, Percival took consolation in the fact that he wasn’t alone in these thoughts.

By the time he arrived at White’s to fortify himself for another evening out amongst the ton, others had gathered to express the same sentiment. ‘The damned foreigner didn’t know the least about how it’s supposed to work,’ one gentlemen announced with authority.

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