Her face darkened. “For everything.” She hurried away before he could ask more.
~ * ~
USUALLY, IT WAS the gentleman who waited for the lady, but in this case, Pearl was ready was waiting for Christopher in the foyer. Maybe he’d changed his mind. And dash it, Pearl was even earlier than Florence, who should escort her.
Julia paced next to her. “Are you sure you want to go with Lord Lyons?”
“Absolutely.” Anything to get rid of Mrs Armstrong.
Julia sighed. “I’ll keep Mrs Armstrong busy. It’s the least I can do after having left you alone with the prince. Sorry, I didn’t know what to do.”
“Never mind.” Pearl gave a shrug.
In fact, Julia’s absence had been better because she’d had the occasion to chat with Cowasj alone.
Julia lowered her voice. “Be careful with Lyons.”
“I will,” she said, although she wasn’t sure what Julia was referring to.
Harvey’s wife, Florence, strode into the foyer, a bright smile on her plump face. Dark ringlets sprayed with grey bounced on red cheeks and enhanced her bright brown eyes.
“I’m ready to go, Missus,” she said, curtsying. “Sorry to have kept you waiting.”
“It’s all right, Florence.”
“Since you’re all set.” Julia winked. “I’ll prepare for my stroll in the country with Benedict and Dorian.” She wiggled her fingers as she went up the stairs.
Christopher came down in a fresh shirt, waistcoat, and a pair of pressed trousers. His walking stick was in his hand, but he wasn’t reclining on it. An image of him all sweaty and with the first buttons of his shirt undone flashed through her mind, and a frisson of sheer pleasure coursed through her straight between her thighs.
He bowed. “I’m sorry to be late.”
“There’s no hurry.” Pearl glanced at the wide stretch of his shoulders and the expanse of his chest.
If the rest of him was as strong and hard as his fingers, his body had to be a formidable mountain of muscles. Her mouth went dry, and she fiddled with her reticule.
“Shall we go then?” Florence opened the door and dropped a curtsy, letting Pearl pass first.
In the landau, Pearl sat in front of Christopher and next to Florence, but his presence choked all the space. When the carriage rolled forward, she gazed out of the window, searching the garden. After her first encounter with Prince Cowasj, he’d disappeared.
“He’s not here,” Christopher said.
Pearl averted her gaze from the window. “Who?”
“Prince Cowasj is in Wheathampstead. He’ll be back later this evening.” The tone was flat, but an angry note rang in it.
Heat exploded in her cheeks. “I wasn’t . . .” She was, but not for the reasons Christopher might think.
Florence sighed. “He’s a handsome one, the prince, if you pardon my boldness. I bet every young woman in England would want to be his princess.”
A muscle in Christopher’s jaw ticked.
“Actually,” Pearl said, fiddling with her gloves, “I don’t find him so attractive.” She was glad Mrs Armstrong wasn’t here or she wouldn’t have the chance to make Christopher understand she wasn’t interested in Cowasj. Not romantically, that is. “He’s handsome, but I prefer different types of men.”
The carriage jolted, and her knee bumped against Christopher’s. Another shot of heat went through her, but this time it wasn’t shame. He shifted in his seat, so their knees didn’t touch anymore, but the way he closed his fists and straightened made her think he was trying to contain himself.
“What type of men do you like, Missus?” Florence asked. Her boldness was refreshing.
Pearl stared at Christopher. “Men who aren’t scared of telling what they think.”
