Page 26 of Last Duke Standing

“Excellent. Then shall we?”

“Please.” He gestured toward the door. She turned to go, and Amelia, who was still admiring herself, let out a small squeal. “I’m not ready!” But she rushed after her sister nonetheless. And Bardaline, well...he trotted alongside Justine like a pony, speaking so low that William, who apparently was left to bring up the rear, couldn’t hear a word he said.

Out on the drive Amelia squinted at the double brougham, emblazoned with the Hamilton crest on the door. “Is this it? It’s not very big, is it? The coaches are much bigger in Wesloria.”

“You’re thinking of the royal coaches,” Justine said. “This is not aroyalcoach.”

William looked at his coach. They tended to be a standard size, made so that horses could pull them around. Any bigger than this, he’d need a team of six to cart these two in fancy bonnets to St. James.

Two Weslorian guards trotted out on horses and took a position behind the coach.

One of William’s coachmen leaped to the ground from the back runner. He opened the door and pulled down a step for the ladies. Amelia immediately stepped forward and allowed the young man to hand her up. Justine was next, stepping elegantly into the interior. When she was seated, she leaned forward and looked out the door at William. “Are you riding with us?”

Well, yes. He’d invited them, had provided the coach. “Would you prefer I ride up top?” He meant it quite sarcastically.

But a devilish smile appeared on Princess Justine’s lips. “Whatever suits you, my lord. I rather thought you’d want to take the opportunity to offer your advice on any number of subjects.”

Her eyes were sparkling like gold at the end of the proverbial rainbow. “I thought you did no’ care for or need my advice.”

“I don’t!” she cheerfully confirmed. “I assumed you’d be eager to provide it all the same.”

He bowed again, then put his hat on his head. “I find I am better at offering advice in the moment.”

She laughed. “Well,thatshould be diverting.”

“Are we going?” Princess Amelia called from inside the coach.

Princess Justine continued to smile at him with far too much satisfaction. Now, there was a piece of advice he could offer—stop smiling at him like that. It made him feel...unsteady.

Justine leaned back, disappearing into the interior of the coach.

This afternoon had all the signs of being interminable. He strode to the front of the coach. But he did not climb up.

He wished his father would stop spending all the family money and forcing him into situations like this. And he wished that he could stop seeing Justine’s pert smile, and the absolute pleasure of having chased him off shining in her eyes. He abruptly pivoted around and strode to the door of the coach, yanked it open and climbed into the interior.

There was an immediate problem that left him bent over in a crouch just inside the door. The two of them were sitting across from each other and there was no place for him.

“What are you doing?” Princess Amelia complained, clearly unwilling to move. “There’s not enough room.”

“Amelia. Come over here,” Justine said and patted the bench beside her, shifting over to make room. Her younger sister huffed but did as she was bid. The two of them sat there with their skirts filling all the available space.

William settled on the bench facing the rear of the coach.

Princess Amelia clucked her tongue and glared at his long legs. “You’re mashing my skirt.”

He desperately wanted to point out that her bloody skirt filled the interior and there was no way to avoid it. But he said, “I beg your pardon,” and angled his long legs away from her as best he could. The result was to mash Justine’s skirts. She sighed loudly.

As the coach began to move, he tried not to mash anything, but it was impossible in that cramped space. Justine continued to watch him, clearly amused. She obviously sensed his discomfit and he didn’t like it. When the coach turned a corner and he nearly fell off the bench in his effort to keep from touching their skirts, a smile of delight appeared on her face.

“You’re rather chipper, Your Royal Highness,” he groused.

“What does that mean,chipper?”

“Cheerful.”

“Ah! Yes, I suppose I am. I am away from Prescott Hall, after all.”

“They keep her there,” Amelia said gravely.

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