A Royal Kiss and Tell

The only person on the side of Eliza who appeared completely unaffected by the trappings of royalty was Lord Hawke’s sister. That woman would take no notice of her nerves even if they rose up and wrapped themselves around her throat. Oh, quite the contrary—she seemed emboldened by unfamiliar and formal situations. She sailed through them with a wide, warm smile and rosy cheeks and spectacularly blond hair. She did not go unnoticed—she was exceedingly attractive and taller than average. It was impossible not to see her. She was that rare social butterfly who thought nothing of chatting with anyone and everyone in her path. She delighted in being heard, and all were fair game to her—be one a duke or a butler, a queen or a chambermaid. She particularly seemed to enjoy butting into any conversation to offer an opinion, and she didn’t care who was on hand to hear it.

The attention she received seemed to invigorate her and compel her to step out of her bounds. She’d certainly thought nothing of approaching him at the royal banquet two nights ago as if it were a trifling thing. Either she didn’t understand that one did not approach a royal prince without proper introduction at a formal event or she didn’t care—all he knew was that he was in the midst of a conversation, feeling pleasantly inebriated, when he suddenly realized she was at his side, smiling as if there were only the few of them in this room. “Good evening!” she’d said brightly, her green eyes shining. “Is this not a glorious event? I am so very impressed with the reception Eliza has received in Helenamar, aren’t you?”

“She is well liked,” Leo confirmed blandly. He was not surprised by the lady’s approach, but his companions, all of them hailing from the highest reaches of Alucian society, had stared at her as if she were a curiosity from a circus, and her breach of proper royal etiquette was to be examined and discussed. In particular, Lady Brunella Fortengau’s eyes had gone wide with shock, and she’d looked at Leo as if she thought they were being invaded by a plague and he ought to do something about it.

Well, there was nothing to be done about it, that much Leo had deduced long before this evening. As Lady Brunella had looked on disapprovingly, Hawke’s sister had taken a glass of champagne from a servant’s tray and said to the poor man, “Oh dear, should I?” as if she expected him to answer. “I had a glass of champagne at the bridal luncheon, and much to my dismay it had gone off. Have you tasted this?” she’d asked, putting the glass up to her nose.

The servant flushed. “No, madam.”

She’d sipped, narrowed her eyes and stared upward as she assessed the champagne, then smiled brightly at the servant and declared it divine. Then she’d offered to hand Lady Brunella a glass, encouraging her to sample a most excellent vintage.

Judging by the dip of Lady Brunella’s eyebrows, she did not care to be told by this lively Englishwoman that she “simply must try” the champagne, and Leo had made the decision to hasten the woman along when she asked if he would like to taste the champagne.

“Thank you, but I shall wait until the king and queen arrive.”

She’d laughed. “Then you might be in for a long wait, no? They were quite tardy last night, weren’t they?”

“I beg your pardon?” With a nod of his head, he sent the servant scurrying along.

“I’m making a jest,” she’d said. “Except that they were rather behind schedule.” And to the stunned looks of his friends, for who would dare remark on the king and queen’s tardiness, she’d explained, “We’re acquainted,” and had gestured to herself and Leo.

“Not exactly,” Leo had said.

“In England,” she’d clarified with a pert smile.

“Perhaps in passing,” he’d offered politely, still miffed that she insisted on making the ridiculous assertion about a meeting at a house party in Chichester. How could he possibly remember anyone he’d met at that house? Given all that he’d drunk, it was remarkable he recalled Chichester at all. With a small and subtle lift of his finger, he’d summoned the head butler, who smoothly interceded.

“Madam? If I may,” the butler had said, and gestured vaguely in the direction of her seat.

At first, when the wedding celebrations had begun, Leo thought Hawke’s sister merely naive, something like a country bumpkin come to a grand wedding. But the more he saw her over the course of the wedding celebrations, the more he determined that she was a mix of intrepid spirit with a sprinkle of insolence, a dash of presumption and a dollop of cheeriness for whomever she met, whether it was warranted or not, all delivered with a pretty smile and a bit of laughter in her green eyes.

She was exactly the sort of person royal courtiers did not care to find in their midst. Courtiers were typically annoyed with anyone who took attention that they desperately sought for themselves. And when one was foreign and beautiful and annoying, beautifully annoying, they tended to revile that person on general principle.