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She whipped her head back around, tearing her eyes off of Gordon. A man with dirty blond hair, blue
eyes, and an expensive suit stood there, watching her. He was handsome and close to her own age. This couldn’t be Prince George… “Hm?”
“I’m Prince George. It’s nice to finally meet you, Princess Isabelle.”
“O-Oh. Hello.” She offered her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”
He grasped her fingers, lifting it to his knuckles and dropping a soft kiss there. “I must say, you’re even more beautiful than I’d ever imagined possible, Princess Isabelle.”
“Um…thanks.” She glanced at Gordon. His grin was gone. In fact, he looked absolutely furious. She forced her attention back to George and wiggled her fingers free. “Call me Isabelle, please.”
“Isabelle, then.” George smiled and sat beside her. He smoothed his lapels. “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting. I hate the idea of you being alone for too long.”
“No, not at all.” She glanced at Gordon again. He looked as if he knew exactly what was going on, but he no longer looked like he gave a damn. He seemed indifferent. “I have my own personal guard here with me, too.”
George looked over at Gordon and nodded once. Gordon inclined his head slightly, not meeting her eyes. George turned his attention back to Isabelle. He seemed completely unthreatened by him. “I’m glad to see you took the necessary precautions with your safety. Maine is pretty quiet, but one can never be too safe. He looks quite capable of taking care of you.”
She choked on the sip of water she’d just taken. After an embarrassing fit of coughing, she finally managed to say, “Indeed. He is.”
Gordon watched her closely. This time, she didn’t meet his eyes.
“Good,” George said.
She forced a smile and picked up the menu. “My parents always take all the necessary steps to keep their kingdom safe.”
Including making me marry a man I’ve never met.
“So I see. Are you enjoying your time here?” he asked, smiling at her.
“Yes, immensely so,” she said, stealing another glance at Gordon. He stared back at her and didn’t move a muscle. “It’s been…fun.”
George looked at Gordon again, this time with his brow furrowed. “Good.”
When he continued staring at Gordon—who did his best to look as if he didn’t notice—Isabelle cleared her throat. “How long have you been here?”
“Too long,” George said, finally turning back to Isabelle with a smile. It seemed forced. “I’m ready to go home. It’s nice here, but I long for the rolling mountains of Liston. The order and sophistication.”
“I know what you mean. I miss home already, and it’s only been two days.”
The waiter approached, smiling at both of them. He had a fine sheen of sweat on the skin above his upper lip. “Can I start you off with something to drink?”
Isabelle looked down at the menu. “I’ll have—”
“A bottle of Chablis, and two filet mignons, cooked medium-well, please,” George said, closing his menu. “We’ll both have salads with house dressing, too.”
Isabelle stiffened. “Actually, I’d—” A princess never argues in public, especially in business relations. She gripped the menu edges tight and closed it. “I mean, thank you very much.”
“Ma’am?” the waiter asked, shooting George a quick look. “Anything else you’d like to add?”
“No, thank you.” She smiled at George. “We’re all set.”
The waiter left, and George sighed. “These Americans have no idea how the world is supposed to work. They expect everyone to be on equal footing, from the President to the dishwasher…to the hired help.” He gestured to Gordon, who watched them with narrowed eyes. “It’s ridiculous.”
“I don’t think so,” she said, clenching her teeth. “I think it’s a novel idea. One that’s gotten them very far in so little time.”
“Some might say so.” George opened his napkin and spread it on his lap. “I happen to disagree.”
She opened her mouth to continue the conversation, but the waiter returned with their drinks. By the time he left, she decided it wasn’t worth arguing. She’d met men like him, who were set in old ways, and there was no changing his mind. He was just like her father. Old-fashioned. Traditional. Stuffy.
