Page 69 of Her Royal Houseguest

And then, as if to prove her point, Clarke abruptly knocked on the door, pushing it open enough to look inside.

‘How may I help you, Prince Deva?’

Anna looked at the prince, her brow arched to match his.

He turned to Clarke. ‘It was Lady Anna who, uh, snapped.’

The footman turned to her. ‘My lady?’

She sighed—quietly. ‘Please tell Cook that the duchess will take a tray in her room.’ She looked at the prince. ‘Will you dine at home or do you intend—’

‘At home. With you.’

‘Very well.’ She looked to Clarke, tempted to order a tray just to be contrary. But they no longer had the staff to manage a tray for her, too. It was easiest if she and the prince dined together. ‘We will eat a la famille.’ She’d never been more grateful that the monks did not eat after noon.

‘Very good, my lady.’

‘You may go,’ she said.

The man bowed and withdrew. He even had the intelligence to shut the door behind him. It wasn’t proper but he’d served the ducal house long enough to know that sometimes arguments were best handled behind closed doors. Even if it was between unmarried hostess and eligible guest. Besides, Mama had another migraine.

Once Clarke’s footsteps had faded, she and the prince eyed each other. She wasn’t even sure why she squared off with him like this. She was tired. She had a thousand things to manage and no one to help. She’d considered sending a note to Phoebe. She would come running but her friend had landed in a bit of a scandal. Anna had only just learned of it this afternoon during Mama’s salon.

The news was out that Phoebe’s whole family had invested in an apothecary shop. Unfortunately, the doctor in charge of it had made some errors. Several people had become ill and Phoebe had been blamed for it. Why? Because she was a woman. That was all. As if men weren’t duped every day.

But her investment had been exposed and she was being roasted in the broadsheets. Anna had already sent around a note of support but there was little more she could do while her own home was in such disarray.

So there she stood feeling the weight of everything on her shoulders. Pride was the only thing keeping her standing and what a ridiculous emotion that was.

Yet she still stood.

Until Prince Deva came forwards. He gently touched her arm and pulled it forwards until he could clasp her hand. Then he tugged her to the couch until they both sat, face to face with their knees touching.

His expression had changed so he looked at her with open curiosity. That was too intimate, especially with her hands resting in his. Her gaze canted away but he gently pulled her face back to him.

‘Lady Anna,’ he said. ‘I have erred.’

She looked at him. She tried to keep her expression bland, but she failed. She watched as a ruddy color crept up his cheeks.

‘You are so different than the women of my country. In Siam, a high-born woman is obeyed.’

She jerked her hands out of his. ‘If you are going to tell me another way that I have failed, then I shall take my leave.’

‘No, no! You misunderstand. If such a woman is disobeyed, then it is a great shame upon the men of her family. It is their job to see that she is protected.’ He gathered her hands again. ‘Cherished.’

A wave of tender feeling washed through her at the way he said, ‘Cherished.’ Here was a man who wouldn’t rail at his wife. Indeed, he would see that she had all that she needed. At least in their own home.

‘In most households, this is true,’ she said. ‘But my case is different. It is because—’

‘Do not say again that you are backwards or any other such nonsense.’

She sighed. ‘But it’s true. Other people don’t have such problems with their servants. Other people can sew or write with skill.’

‘You do sew and write. Have I not praised your correspondence to your father?’

Had he? ‘I write very slowly compared to most people.’

‘I do not care. I am sure you would write and sew faster if you used your left hand. As for the servants, I have already managed that problem.’