Page 35 of The Duke Who Loved Me (The Duke's Estates 1)

“Oh, there’s Prince Karl,” said Sarah.

Cecelia watched James’s expression turn sour. She didn’t enjoy it quite as much as she might have earlier.

“His country is small and mostly mountainous,” Sarah added, with the air of one who felt obliged to change the subject, whatever awkwardness that required.

“Not overly prosperous,” Ada chimed in.

“His father is a grand duke, not a king,” said Sarah. “Even though he is a prince. Which I don’t precisely understand.”

“How do you know all that?” asked Cecelia.

“We’ve been investigating.” Charlotte was eyeing the prince. “Perhaps I’ll ask him about the titles.”

“Please don’t,” muttered Harriet, her voice still strained.

“Investigating?” asked James. He seemed torn between curiosity and puzzlement, with an underlying hint of admiration.

“My aunt Julia knows Countess Esterhazy,” said Ada. “A little. And the countess knows all the Germans.”

The wife of the ambassador from Austria-Hungary would be well informed about that part of the world, Cecelia thought. She hadn’t realized that her friends had been making inquiries.

The prince had seen them and was striding over, the crowd parting at his martial stride.

“Good evening,” he said, bowing and clicking his heels. He wore a blue coat with frogged closings and epaulettes tonight, more florid than the English style. “Such a garland of lovely ladies,” he continued. “Like a bouquet of flowers—Miss Moran a daisy, Miss Deeping a slender pale lily, Miss Grandison a primrose, Miss Finch a ruddy tulip, and Miss Vainsmede of course a rose.”

This sounded like a prepared speech, and Cecelia didn’t think the blooms really matched their individual personalities. Prince Karl offered James a bare nod. It was returned in kind. They might have been two tomcats meeting in a narrow alley ready to contest the territory.

“What are these tableaux they speak of?” the prince asked Cecelia. “I have not seen such things before.”

“It’s all beer and sausages where you come from then?” said James.

“More likely a fine Riesling andintelligentconversation.” The bluff blond prince stood in contrast to James’s dark hair and blue eyes.

“You speak English so well, Prince Karl,” said Sarah.

If there was smoothing over to be done, Sarah always stepped forward. Cecelia liked her for it, though she doubted it would do much good in this case.

“I am well educated. It is thought importantwhere I come from.” The prince’s deep voice held just a brush of menace.

“Tableaux,” said Cecelia, feeling this had gone far enough. “The daughters of the household will be re-creating scenes from ancient history this evening.”

“Like a play?” asked the prince.

“No, it is a static presentation. A curtain is drawn back and we all…appreciate the picture.”

“I see. How authentic are they to be, I wonder? The ancients wore some scanty draperies.” His gaze drifted over the crowd in speculation.

“You are offensive,” said James.

“Ja? Perhaps my English is not so perfect after all.” Prince Karl bowed to Cecelia. “I beg pardon if I said something wrong.”

His hazel eyes gleamed with something. Cecelia didn’t think it was remorse. Was he teasing them? She hadn’t expected that.

The prince turned to James. “We had spoken of fencing. But we have made no arrangements. Perhaps you are reluctant?”

“I will meet you at Angelo’s whenever you like,” James snapped.

“That is the famous fencing school, isn’t it?” asked Sarah. “I wish I might see inside. I’ve always wanted to observe real swordplay. It is so historical.”

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