A Royal Kiss and Tell

A larger part of him was relieved those days were behind him.

He had one thing to do before he arrived at the Hawke household. Much to Freddar’s dismay, he insisted on a large overcoat to cover his formal clothing and a dreadful hat with a brim so wide one would have to dip down to see his face. He needed to make a pair of calls on the way to Upper Brook Street.

The first was to Cressidian’s house. It was time to think about that scoundrel.

Mr. Cressidian looked surprised to see him. He looked a little bleary-eyed. Leo knew that look—it was the look of a debauched lifestyle. He guessed Cressidian would rouse himself with some food and drink and have another go this evening.

“Your Highness,” the scoundrel said uncertainly when Leo was shown into his study. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I suspect not. I won’t keep you. But I’m curious, sir—how much did they pay you to slander me?”

One of Cressidian’s brows rose. “I beg your pardon?”

Leo sighed with impatience. “Come now, Mr. Cressidian. You are a master at lining your own pocket. When you told the men who are in the despicable business of selling Weslorian women that I knew about the scheme, how much did they pay you to slander me?”

The blood drained from Cressidian’s face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said coolly.

“Bloody hell, you don’t.”

“I will thank you to take your leave,” he said, and sort of lurched toward the door, throwing it open, then looking into the hallway, where he probably suspected Alucian men were standing, waiting to take him. They would come later for him, Leo would see to that.

Leo slowly walked to the door, but he paused before the man. He could smell the sour stench of fear and drink on him. “One day, Mr. Cressidian, you will be called to account for your crimes. If I were you, I’d get on my knees and beg for mercy.”

“Fine advice coming from a royal wastrel. Get on your own knees.”

“What makes you think I haven’t?” Leo asked with a wry smile. And then, with speed and strength he hadn’t known he possessed, he punched Cressidian squarely in the jaw and sent him tumbling backward. He gave a laugh of surprise as he went out—he wouldn’t have thought himself capable of such a stunning blow.

The next call he made was to the home of Hollis Honeycutt. He needed to see that his wards were comfortable and prepared to leave at a moment’s notice. He arrived at the address where he’d sent the ladies and knocked on the door. The man who opened the door to him in shirtsleeves and an apron was as tall as he was, and a bit broader. He might have been the most handsome man Leo had ever seen.

He must have been staring in confusion, because the man said, “Aye?”

“Pardon. Is Mrs. Honeycutt at home?”

“She is,” he said, looking Leo up and down. He didn’t move from filling the door.

“Who’s there, Donovan?”

Hollis Honeycutt appeared at the door, ducking under the arm the man had propped against the door frame. She was dressed for the ball. “Oh! Your Highness!”

The man arched a brow.

“I beg your pardon, but I had a moment of opportunity and I thought I might see after your guests?”

“Come in,” she said, smiling. “They’re dining just now. My cook has gone away for the weekend and Donovan made a lamb shank. He’s an excellent cook.”

Leo squeezed by the man and into the foyer. He was instantly struck by the smell of something delicious and something even more amazing—the sound of laughter.

AN HOUR LATER, Leo arrived at Upper Brook Street with Hollis, who would also accompany the Hawkes to the ball. He shed the overcoat and hat and straightened the cuffs of his sleeves. He was wearing his finest formal wear, and for the first time since perhaps his brother’s wedding, he had cared what he looked like. He wore a blue silk sash with his royal medals and had Freddar tie an Alucian knot in his neckcloth. He wore the formal Alucian coat and combed his hair neatly behind his ears, also in the Alucian style. If he was going to leave England in disgrace, he would do it with his head held high.

Garrett showed him into the family drawing room. Beck was impatiently pacing the hearth. “I’ve been waiting for Caro a half hour,” he said impatiently. “What is it that women do in their boudoir? It seems fairly straightforward, does it not? A petticoat, a few pins in the hair,” he said, fluttering his fingers at his head.

“Are you complaining again, Beck?”

“Caro!” Hollis exclaimed as Leo and Beck turned toward the door. “Your gown is gorgeous!”

“Thank you, Hollis! And you are beautiful in blue, darling. You should wear it always.”