Course after course of dining delights soon appeared in front of Erika. She sampled a little from each before setting her cutlery down and waiting for the plate to be cleared. Her late mother had instilled in her the need to eat and imbibe little at these sorts of functions. She would take a light supper and a glass of hot milk when she got home.
The Prince Regent, clearly not subscribing to the same school of thought, was busy working his way through a mountain of food and champagne, his speech becoming more garbled with every glass.
He and Christian attempted several conversations in English, with Erika stepping in and assisting as required. At one juncture, they moved to conversing in French, but as the night drew on and the Prince Regent got slowly more drunk, he reverted to his native tongue.
“It’s nice to have a proper representative of Sweden in London. I know there isss an envoy, but this job requires someone with the right amount of royal blooood. Sir Vincent Lynch tellsss meeee you want a trade agreement. Well these things need men with blue blood in order to get them done.” He pounded the table with his fist. “Royals understand thiss,” slurred the prince.
Christian glanced at Erika and she gave the barest nod in his direction. She had a strong grasp of English, but even she was struggling to understand the prince at times.
“Baron von Rehausen has done an excellent job with as much as he has had to work with over the past few years,” replied Erika.
The gentleman opposite her snorted. “Yes, well, he would do better if he stopped tupping his wife. The man has a fast-growing brood of Swedish brats. I swear that house of his will surely explode if he has any more children.”
Several of the guests tittered at this unkind remark.
Arroganta jävlar.
Erika kept her face placid while she silently cursed the man. Much as she would like to have taken the gentleman to task, it was not her place to defend the baron.
Christian picked up his wine glass and said nothing. She was proud of the way he was handling himself tonight. It was the first real opportunity she had been given to see him in diplomatic mode. He was not going to take the bait and start an argument with another guest.
The Prince Regent downed the last of his champagne, and with tears shining in his eyes turned on the impolite gentleman. “I will have you know that I am one of fifteen children. All of them brought into this world with love by my parents. And the three of my siblings whom I have lost, I mourn greatly.”
Oh god, there goes the evening.
The prince dabbed at his face with his napkin, then waved to a nearby footman. “More champagne. I need my glass filled.”
The rest of those seated at the dining table sat utterly dumbstruck. No one said a word, even Christian appeared caught wrong-footed by the prince’s sudden morose turn of mood.
Erika, who had experienced the depths of grief following the death of her mother, stepped in to fill the void. “Prince Christian is one of seven children, and I know his family are very close. I may be an only child, but it is obvious to me that the size of your family does not matter when it comes to sibling affection.”
The prince reached out and gently patted her hand, smiling through his sheen of tears. “Yes, you are so right, Countess Erika. My heart has simply grown over the years as my brothers and sisters were born.”
He glared at the poor unfortunate who had first raised the issue of Baron von Rehausen before leaning back in his chair.
The whole assembly flinched as he suddenly raised his hands and clapped them loudly together. “Enough of this maudlin chatter. I need a happy moment. Prince Christian, I am going to hold an engagement ball for you and the delightful Countess Erika. It shall be here at Carlton House this Friday, and everyone who is anyone will be invited.”
Erika curled up her toes in her evening slippers and let a slow, soft smile come to her lips. Across the table from her, Christian held his hands together in a gentle clasp. “That is a most generous gift, Your Highness. You honor us with your kindness,” he replied.
While he and the Prince Regent had conversed without the use of formal titles during the earlier part of the evening, his quiet change to offering respectful deference was a stroke of diplomatic genius.
The prince wiped more tears away. “It is but a trifle. Only a fool would refuse to celebrate such a perfect love match. Just remember that when you have your own brood of fair-haired children, that you might wish to name one of them George.”
“It would be both an honor and a pleasure,” replied Christian.
A procession of footmen now appeared in the doorway, each carrying a small silver tray. Upon the trays sat several small glasses filled with flavored ices. While the other guests were busy exclaiming their delight at the desserts, across the table from one another Erika and Christian locked eyes. The evening had been an outstanding success. Her father and the baron would be beside themselves with glee when they heard the news that the future king was going to host a special ball just for Christian and Erika.
The Prince Regent waved his dessert spoon in the air and exclaimed, “And someone do something about organizing some trade negotiations with these lovely Swedes. We need to look after family. Lord knows how hard it is going to be once those bloody Russians arrive.”
Erika decided she would name all her future children George.
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Chapter Eighteen
Erika was fast asleep at the table when Christian arrived in the dining room on Thursday morning. She raised her head and squinted at him. Sunlight streamed through the window.
“Oh, what time is it?” she asked.
