A Royal Kiss and Tell

THE LONG DAY with Augusta ended when she claimed a blinding headache and sent word to her husband she would not attend supper. That left Caroline alone to dine with the three men. This was a situation she generally relished. She’d even brought a spectacular green gown, one that had been rather plain three months ago but now boasted a modified train—really, the Alucians wore them too long—and a revised neckline that was more daring than what she typically wore. She had planned to be admired as she always did, but this evening she was feeling out of sorts. She didn’t want their attention or admiration. What she wanted was to be home with her cloth and her needle and thread and her imagination. Lord, she was turning into a spinster with every tick of the clock.

The maid who was sent to attend her as she prepared for the evening was a bubbly lass. Janey, she said her name was. She couldn’t have been more than sixteen, if that. About the same age as the other girl had appeared to be.

Janey was not shy about admiring Caroline’s gown or her looks. She was chatty. Caroline took advantage of that, and as she did a final check in the mirror, she said, “There is another maid here, a young woman with dark hair.”

“Oh, there are so many maids, madam! Arundel is the biggest thing I’ve ever seen. Maybe bigger than Windsor. That’s what Adam said. He’s in the stables, and he rides with the duke and duchess to London to care for the horses.”

“It is indeed a very big estate,” Caroline agreed. “But this girl... I think she is Weslorian?”

“Ah, Jacleen! Aye, she’s come all the way from Wesloria. Hadn’t been in London two weeks before the duke brung her here. It’s all so new to her.”

“I can imagine it must be very new to her,” Caroline said darkly. She didn’t know if she could look at the duke tonight, knowing what he did, knowing that he’d brought that poor young immigrant here to service him while his wife carried his fourth child.

When she finally went down to supper, Caroline was feeling unusually subdued and unlike herself. Beck frowned darkly when he saw her enter the salon, most likely a result of his displeasure with her décolletage. Caroline ignored him. He ought to be thankful that she wasn’t sleeping with a footman like his friend the duke or rounding up her friends to go traipsing off to brothels like his friend the prince.

“Wine, madam?” a footman asked, holding a tray out to her as Beck turned his attention to the duke. Far across the cavernous room, Leopold was sitting in a chair, an open book in his lap.

“Thank you.” She took the glass from his tray, then walked to the window and watched the sinking sun wash the countryside in soft gold light. She hadn’t stood there long when she slowly became aware of a presence. She glanced over her shoulder and smiled thinly at the prince. She couldn’t help herself—the look in his eyes stirred blood, fever and heat. What was wrong with her that she could be so physically attracted to such a rake?

“Good evening, Lady Caroline.”

“Good evening, Highness.”

“You look...” His gaze traveled down the length of her. “Very well, indeed,” he said at last. But his eyes said something more. Or maybe she imagined it, wanting him to mean more. Blast it, she didn’t know what she wanted from this man! To leave her be or take her into his arms?

“Will Lady Norfolk be joining us?” he asked.

“I don’t think so,” Caroline said, turning her attention to the window.

He moved to stand beside her and look out, too. They stood that way for several long and silent moments. Or maybe only a single moment. Caroline was losing track of time—all her senses were trained on his presence beside her. “You like children,” she said.

“Pardon?”

“I saw you playing with the girls earlier.”

“Ah.” He turned around, putting his back to the window so that he could face her. “I do like children, very much. Do you?”

“Yes.” She tapped a finger against her wine glass. “Do you ever think of having your own? What they will look like?”

He gave her a curious smile. “I suppose I have. Doesn’t everyone, at some point?”

She didn’t, really. She assumed she would have them, but with no real prospect of it, she didn’t think much about what her future children might look like, who they might be. “Well... I wish you and Lady Eulalie many happy, healthy children.”

Leopold’s countenance sobered instantly. “Yes.” He glanced away.

Caroline instantly felt contrite. She hadn’t meant to be rude; she’d meant to be polite. But given the turn their acquaintance had taken, it sounded a bit...petulant. She’d only said what was in her thoughts. What was so much in her thoughts suddenly. “I’m sorry—”

“No, don’t be,” he said quickly. “It’s a fair point.” He turned his gaze to her again and smiled sadly. “I find no joy in the inevitability of a match I did not seek.”