Page 45 of A Princess for Christmas

“So do you,” she said.

“No, I don’t. I look like a schlub from the Bronx who has been on planes for eleven hours.”And who can’t tell the difference between soap and chocolate.

“My father is on his way home and has texted to invite us for predinner cocktails in an hour’s time, should you care to join us.”

Should he “care to join them.” Leo could think of few things he would care to do less, but he didn’t really have a choice here, did he? You didn’t come to the Eldovian royal palace and refuse a summons from the king. “Will there be more pomp and ritual?” he asked.

“Not really. It will just be us.”

He suspected her definition of “pomp and ritual” was different from his, but he merely asked, “Will there be beer?”

“There will, in fact, be beer. I’ve made sure of it. I have an old friend who owns a pub in the village, and she’s started some small-scale brewing. We also have various Oktoberfests and Hefeweizens on hand.”

Leo had been kidding, of course, with the beer question, but he was oddly touched that she’d gone to the trouble.

“And,” Marie went on, “I am told that the cook, who is a lovely woman who thrills to new challenges, is outdoing herself concocting nonalcoholic creations fit for young New Yorkers with discerning palates.”

“You are a good egg, Princess.” He had the sudden, ridiculous urge to rest his hand on her cheek, but of course he checked it.

“And if you’re not too tired,” she said, “after dinner I can take you down to the village and show you around. That way you’ll know how to escape when you need to.”

“And where do you go when you need to escape?”

It was out before he could help it. He was fairly certain shedidn’tescape. That duty and the sad king and the beautiful but impersonal palace were the boundaries of her universe.

But she surprised him by grinning playfully. “I’ll never tell.”

What was thematterwith her?

Had Marie’s time in New York made her forget everything about her life?

About her father?

He made his displeasure over the fact that she’d returned with guests known immediately upon his return from Riems.

“You didn’t tell me you were going to see the duke,” she said as he strode into her sitting room, a footman trailing him because he hadn’t even taken off his coat.

“You didn’t tell me you were bringing Americans home for Christmas,” he shot back.

Fair enough, but that was because if she’d “told” him, he would have interpreted it as “asking” and would have said no. “They’re my friends. They’ve had a difficult few years, and they’re alone for Christmas.”

“I won’t ask how you made friends with a couple of—”

She channeled the spirit of her mother and glared at him. Her mother had always had a way of tempering her father’s sternness, his most aristocratic instincts.

It must have worked, because he said, “New Yorkers” even though they both knew that wasn’t originally how he’d intended to finish that sentence.

“That’s the appealing thing about New York,” Marie said withstudied mildness. “It puts you in the path of people you otherwise wouldn’t meet.”

“And you also met Philip Gregory, I understand. Or should I saydidn’t meet?”

Clearly Mr.Benz had already filled him in.

“It didn’t go well,” she confirmed. There was no point in dissembling.

“And the other retailers?”

“Shall we discuss this at a more opportune time, when we don’t have guests waiting? I have some ideas on that front.”

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