Page 53 of Last Duke Standing

Aggiani laughed. “My English, it is not perfected,” he said in perfected English. “I mean that we Italians live for beauty. Alas, you did not see the faces of the merchants, Your Royal Highness,” he said to Justine. “I said to them, nothing but the best for the future queen of Wesloria.”

“They are beautiful,” Justine said again. She touched her fingers to the petals of a rose in the massive bouquet on the table, and William sneezed.

“Si.”Aggiani glanced around the terrace, admiring his handiwork.

Princess Amelia frowned at William, as if he was sneezing purposefully to annoy her. “Your eyes are getting fat, my lord. Perhaps you ought to have a lie down.”

William ignored her.

“I shall tell you a secret,” Aggiani said and leaned forward, beckoning with his finger. Justine and Amelia leaned forward, too.

As Aggiani whispered into Justine’s ear, Lady Aleksander whispered to William. “You can’t deny that they make a lovely couple. Can you imagine the beautiful children they would bring into the world?”

He gave her a startled look. “That’s putting the cart before the horse, aye?” From where he was sitting, the peacock Aggiani was the worst possible match for Justine. “I think, madam, that you do no’ know my old friend as well as you think.”

“Really?Tell meeverythingabout the man you are not really acquainted with, but whom you refer to as your old friend.”

William gave her a withering look, which lost its intended impact when the butler leaned between them and poured tea. William sneezed again. His eyes were watering, and his nose felt even larger. He had a decision to make—he could sit here and watch Aggiani charm his way into a crown, or he could remove himself before he couldn’t breathe at all.

He could do without breath for a few more minutes.

“Have you ever smelled anything as fragrant?” Aggiani asked, gesturing limply to the flowers at the center of the table.

“I’m certain I have not,” Justine said. She closed her eyes and inhaled the scent of what were supposedly the most perfect flowers ever to have been grown.

Princess Amelia sat forward in her seat to smell them, too. “The scent isdivine.” She smiled at Aggiani, and Aggiani smiled back.

“No one has ever come bearing so many flowers, have they?” Aggiani asked.

Justine drummed her fingers lightly on the table, and William perked up. Her smile seemed a bit tighter. “No one ever has.”

Aha! She was tiring of this one already, and not a moment too soon. William sneezed again, and quite violently at that. But it was a triumphant sneeze, however, because of course he’d been right—Aggiani was not suitable for her.

The butler placed the scones onto plates and set them on the table. Aggiani shifted in his seat, and William couldn’t see him because of those damn flowers, but he could bloody well hear him—he dominated the conversation. He talked about himself and his country, his family’s palace. How fond he was of Wesloria. He again mentioned the flowers.

Princess Amelia listened intently with her chin on her hand to everything Aggiani said. She asked what his family’s palace was like. Aggiani said it was built on a cliff and looked out over the ocean and the floors were marble and the ceilings gilded with gold. And that the vineyards were among the oldest in Italy and produced some of the finest wine in the world. That the flowers grown there were as fine as any you’d ever see at Covent Garden.

Princess Amelia was enthralled, clearly, but William couldn’t read Justine. The laughter they’d heard earlier had disappeared. But she was listening, and every time Aggiani leaned forward, fixing his dark brown eyes and treacly smile on her, William sneezed.

At last, at long last, Lady Aleksander suggested they once again stroll the gardens. Naturally, William was relegated to bystander, made to trail behind the princesses with the matchmaker again. But he kept his eyes open, looking for the opportunity to speak to his charge.

Well. Not his charge, really, but his...responsibility. Except not a responsibility so much as a...well, something like that—charge, responsibility. Friend.

His moment came when Bardaline sought out Lady Aleksander. A messenger had come for her and she departed the group and left the rest of them to carry on to the small garden maze. The two ever-present footmen or guards or whatever they were positioned themselves at the entrance, so that no one could enter the maze while the princesses were rambling about.

His sneezing had stopped, thank the saints, and William was grumpily meandering along behind them when suddenly, Princess Amelia reached up and snatched the hat from Aggiani’s head. With a shriek of laughter, she ran ahead with it.

Aggiani did, too, laughingly warning her that she ought not to toy with him.

William seized the moment to catch up with Justine, who watched her sister and Aggiani disappear around the next turn. “Well,” he said.

“Well, what?”

“We can make quick work of this one if you will allow some friendly advice.”

“No, thank you. Are you all right? Your eyes are nearly swollen shut and your nose is sored.”

“I’m fine. Are you really swayed by a sea of flowers?”

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