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“Alas,” Prince Petrus said, clasping his hands behind his back. “I know that feeling all too well.”
Charlotte’s sly humor vanished. “You aren’t at liberty to love?” she asked.
Prince Petrus smiled softly at her. “Not at the moment,” he said. “Not until I resolve a certain…family matter.”
Charlotte seemed marginally relieved. “Priya—that is, Miss Narayan—has family matters to resolve as well,” she said. Priya wanted to smack her, but she raced on with, “Prince Petrus, do you think a person’s family and nationality should preclude them from forming a deeper connection with someone to whom they are truly suited?”
Priya clamped her jaw tight to keep from scolding Charlotte. There were too many things her friend didn’t know. She loved Charlotte, but her friend was most certainly jumping to conclusions when she needed to let the matter drop.
A moment later, she second-guessed whether the question had anything to do with her at all when Prince Petrus blushed slightly—and attractively, she noted—and glanced ahead of them toward the watery horizon. They’d just reached the end of West Street, where it opened out to the wide vista of the beach and its piers, and turned right onto Kings Road, and the way Prince Petrus gazed across the Channel was wistful and possibly even romantic.
“I suppose that depends on how deep a connection one feels with their family and their homeland,” he said, his gaze unfocused. “It would depend on whether they were set in the ways of tradition or if they were willing to give everything up to discover where they truly belonged.”
Priya caught her breath, though she was certain neither the prince nor Charlotte caught her action. She supposed that was what it came down to in the end. How deeply did she honor the traditions and demands of her family? Was she willing to sacrifice all that she had to her father’s wishes, or, like her newfound education had suggested to her, should she have the power to determine her own future?
“I believe you have a story behind those words, your princeliness,” Charlotte said. A moment later, she laughed and asked, “What does one call a prince of Aegiria? Your majesty?”
Prince Petrus smiled at her as though he found Charlotte’s unrefined ways to be a breath of fresh air. “In Aegiria, ‘Your Highness’ is acceptable on formal occasions, but simply ‘sir’ can be used the rest of the time.”
“Oh!” Charlotte said, her eyes widening. “That seems very informal and quite modern to me.”
“I think you will find that Aegiria is a modern kingdom,” the prince answered with a smile. “They would have to be, considering that they have counted me as one of the royal family when those claims could be contested.”
“They could?” Charlotte asked.
Prince Petrus hummed. “My mother is a royal princess. My father is a duke.” He paused, winced a bit, then added, “However, I was born three months after their marriage—a marriage that was arranged.”
“How exciting,” Charlotte said. Judging by the expression she wore, Priya’s friend must have felt as though she’d walked into a sensational novel.
Charlotte seemed to be more interested in that novel than reality. Their threesome walked right past the Grand Hotel and kept going along the walkway that bordered the beach. Priya didn’t say anything, and honestly, she didn’t mind. As Charlotte and Prince Petrus continued to converse about Aegiria and what it was like to be raised in a royal palace—and as Charlotte shared what it was like to be raised in a newly wealthy family with an ever-increasing number of siblings, Priya let her mind wander.
It was such a blessed relief to be able to think about nothing at all, even if it was just for the length of time it took them to meander past the West Pier and on to the point where Prince Petrus noticed and pointed out they’d overshot the hotel by quite a bit that Priya simply let herself be pulled along. Despite the possible impropriety, she allowed Prince Petrus to purchase a cup of tea and a small cake for her.
By the time that treat was finished and the three of them headed back down the road toward the hotel, Priya was beginning to relax. A holiday in Brighton, away from the pressures and dangers of London, was precisely what she needed after all. The Grand Hotel lived up to its name—as she discovered as soon as she and Charlotte entered the lobby, Prince Petrus holding the door for them. A few days spent in luxurious relaxation, even if it wasn’t the height of summer, would be precisely what Priya needed to ease the—
Before she could so much as finish that thought, she glanced across the lobby and was met with the sight of Francis in conversation with Mr. Sloane. As soon as Francis glanced up and met her eyes, he smiled, as if in relief.
Priya’s heart leapt for joy before she could tamp down the inappropriate reaction. What was the man thinking, following her to Brighton? How had he discovered her plans? And how was she supposed to shield her heart from the danger Francis represented now?
