A Royal Kiss and Tell

LEO HAD SPENT a good portion of the afternoon sniffing out where Jacleen might be, but in this monstrous castle, it was not unlike looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack. But Leo had a stroke of good luck when a maid carried in platters of food and tea for the duke and some of the local gentry who had come to call. She had a patch of green on her collar. She was slight and pale, with shadows under her eyes. She looked rather wan.

He watched her place the platter on a long table as instructed by the butler, and as she turned to go, Leo blurted, “Miss!”

The maid and the butler both turned to him, surprised.

“I’ve a shirt to be ironed,” he said quickly. It was the sort of order he had probably barked any number of times at Constantine Palace. A servant was a servant, there to do what was needed, and he rarely gave it any thought.

“Not her,” Henry said, appearing on his right and placing his hand on his shoulder. “She’s a kitchen maid. Janey will iron your shirt. Peterson,” he said, directing his attention to the butler, “send Janey to the prince’s suite.” Peterson nodded and gestured for the kitchen maid to go.

Henry laughed at Leo. “Traveling without a valet, Your Highness?”

“It is often more expeditious to leave him in London,” Leo said. “But he did warn me this might happen.”

Henry chuckled and wandered off to speak to some of his other guests.

Leo was certain that was Jacleen. So she was a kitchen maid. Now what? He couldn’t very well appear at the kitchen door and ask for her, could he? Perhaps he could pretend to be in need of something. No, that wouldn’t do. Henry had assigned a young footman to tend to Leo, and the lad watched him like a dog, trying to anticipate his every need.

And frankly, Leo was having a devil of a time escaping his host. After Leo had offered his apology for having offended his wife, Henry laughed. “She’s easily offended. You mustn’t pay the ladies any heed, Leo.” He certainly didn’t and proceeded to parade his friend the prince before his neighbors.

Perhaps later tonight, he thought. In Constantine Palace, kitchen workers slept near the kitchen. Work began at four o’clock in the morning in a large palace, and it kept them from padding around and disturbing those who were sleeping. He suspected the same was true of Arundel, give or take a half hour.

He settled on that, then. He would say he’d gotten hungry in the night and make his way to the kitchen, if he could find it. He’d already instructed Kadro and Artur to be ready at first light to escort him to London. Which meant he only had twelve hours left to find Jacleen.

Leo was so worried about his plan that he forgot about the shirt. When the maid Janey came to collect it, he was wearing it. Another blunder.

“I’m to iron a shirt, Your Highness,” she said cheerily, dipping a curtsy.

“Oh. Ah...” He looked around, seeking something she might iron, and finding none, glanced back at her and smiled sheepishly. “As it happens, it didn’t require ironing.”

“No?”

“The valet must have done it before I left. Or...or perhaps a footman here saw to it. I do beg your pardon.”

“Aye, Your Highness,” she said, undoubtedly relieved that she didn’t have to add the task to her list of chores. She curtsied again and turned to go.

“Girl,” Leo said abruptly. She turned back. “Janey, isn’t it?”

“Aye, Your Highness.” She smiled faintly.

Leo frantically tried to think of how to ask her where Jacleen might be. But the girl was staring at him, and he couldn’t think of a way to ask that didn’t seem entirely suspicious. He could imagine her hurrying back to the butler. Mr. Peterson, I think you should know that the foreign prince was asking how he might find Jacleen’s room! The thought appalled him, and he shook his head and smiled a little. “Nothing. Thank you.”

When she’d gone out, he dragged his fingers through his hair. “So, then,” he muttered aloud, “you are on your own, sir. For the sake of the kingdom of Alucia, I pray you manage without purchasing a ruin or a crate of live birds, or having to pay another one hundred quid. Or further damage a reputation that was, until recently, at least decorous.” He put his hand to his chest and bowed to himself. “Somewhat,” he muttered. “Don’t compliment yourself too heartily.”

He determined there was nothing left to do but wait until after midnight. Leo went down to dinner, joining Beck and Henry in the family’s private salon. But he bored of their conversation about racehorses and picked up a book, La Cousine Bette. He read until a footman opened the door and Lady Caroline entered the room. She entered like a queen, frankly, in a silk gown that seemed to move like a cloud around her as she walked.