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The tenderness in his voice brought a lump to her aching throat.

‘I was just wondering if you always laugh at the woman you just had sex with.’

An odd expression flickered across his face. ‘Never.’

CHAPTER NINE

‘I DON’T MIND walking Mabel at all—in fact, I’d love her company for the morning. Go enjoy your spa day.’

‘Are you sure you have no plans?’

Elsie’s smile dismissed the doubt in the Dowager’s question. ‘None at all.’

Sadly, it was true. Elsie’s days started with breakfast with the Dowager, which was not relaxing because maintaining the illusion that this was a love match was exhausting when the only time she saw Leandro was in bed. Enthusiastically describing her plans for her day when it mostly involved a lot of aimless wandering and being stood up by Leandro and not sounding resentful was getting harder by the day.

Sure, she could see he had a tough job to do, but her understanding was wearing thin. Granted, Leandro worked hours that would probably be illegal in most workplaces, but surely there had to be some sort of balance.

She couldn’t accuse him of pretending her life was going to be something it wasn’t. She could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times they’d had lunch together. It took a lot more hands and fingers to enumerate the times when Franco, full of apologies, had stood in to fulfil a promise Leandro had made.

The promises did not extend to the bedroom. Leandro whenever he fell into bed, was always ready and willing to fulfil that part of his duties. On a couple of occasions it had seemed like the intimacy was becoming something more than physical, but he always seemed to draw back as if he didn’t trust her.

She was happy about the mind-blowing sex, of course she was, but it made her feel like…more a mistress than a potential bride. The only time they communicated was in bed and one day that novelty would wear off for him, and where would that leave her? Their love affair might be a myth but he didn’t seem much bothered about putting in the effort to maintain it.

‘Mabel and I will have a lovely day, won’t we, darling,’ she crooned, bending to stroke the elegant little dog’s silky ears as the animal danced around her feet. ‘Enjoy yourself and give my love to Agnes and Sabina.’ She had enjoyed an afternoon tea and a cocktail hour with her future mother-in-law’s best friends, both had left her feeling exhausted and hungover.

It was the little dog at her feet who first alerted her to the fact they were not alone. She stopped dancing and leaned against Elsie’s leg, baring her teeth as a growl emanated from her throat.

Elsie immediately bent to soothingly caress the terrified little animal. ‘What’s wrong, girl?’

Then she saw what was wrong and scooped the quivering animal up into her arms; the dog burrowed her nose into Elsie.

‘Count Tomaz, what a delightful surprise.’

‘Princess—’ he bowed low ‘—I hope you are enjoying your visit, and of course the Dowager Queen?’

Elsie, who knew that Leandro had constructed a virtual wall of steel around his mother to prevent any contact with the likes of Tomaz, smiled. ‘I am having the best time,’ she said cheerily.

His response was equally insincere. ‘I am so glad. Erm… I am actually very glad to bump into you.’

Elsie’s smile was fixed.

‘There are many people, people of influence, who would like to meet you.’

‘I think I might have bumped into a few of them, quite unexpectedly usually.’

‘The Palace is…’

‘Not at all small, especially the kitchen.’

‘Well, obviously, that is the last place one would expect to bump into a princess.’

‘Indeed, anyone would think I was being followed and actually, the kitchen is the ideal place for a princess who loves to exchange recipes for the perfect Yorkshire pudding… Your chef is a Brit.’

‘Fascinating. Food aside, there are people who would love to meet you and I have, with your permission, arranged a little casual gathering…quite informal.’ He went to pat the dog, who turned and growled, baring her teeth. ‘Sweet little thing, but a little temperamental.’

‘So, this informal gathering?’

‘The families…’