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‘Windy,’ she responded, and searched for anything she could think of to deflect the questioning. ‘How’s Esther? You’ve got the ultrasound today, yes?’
Beatrice knew what she was doing. Tobias’s wife was pregnant, and there was nothing better to halt an unwanted question than to invite someone else to speak—especially someone looking forward to being a father.
‘Yes! We should find out what we’re having...’
Tobias chatted happily on, and out of the corner of her eye she watched as Julius went to reach for the last piece of cake, then reluctantly checked himself.
‘Does anyone want this?’ he offered, clearly still hungry from riding and ready to take the last of the cake and get on with his busy day.
‘I do,’ Beatrice said.
He halted.
So did Beatrice. Because suddenly there was something wrong with her voice. Something that made him look over.
No one else seemed aware of it, but it caused him to screw up his very straight nose just a fraction at being thwarted and rather petulantly take back his hand.
‘Of course.’ He nodded and shot her a look that somehow caused her stomach, as well as an area lower, to clench. ‘After all, it’s your cake.’
‘It is,’ Beatrice said, and somehow held his gaze.
‘Enjoy!’ Jordan half laughed and half scolded as he went sulking out of her office, but Beatrice just stood there, wondering what had happened. For a second there it had felt as if there was no one else in her tiny office.
Just one last slice of cake and him.
Oh, God, had he thought she was flirting?
Had she been?
Had he?
Had they?
Beatrice didn’t know.
She had never tuned in to such things—let alone had to tune out. Before arriving here she’d thought that flirting was all batting eyelashes and bumping into each other at every turn, but it would appear that the opposite might be the case. They usually seemed to sit or stand as far from each other as possible. Something had happened there, though...
As the rest of the staff wandered out Jordan closed the door behind them and her smile disappeared. ‘Beatrice, you have to be more careful.’
‘With...?’
Had she noticed? Was she going to be told off for flirting with the Prince?
No, it was her words on arrival that she was being chastised for, as Beatrice quickly found out.
‘How was I supposed to know he was here?’ she asked.
‘I was trying to warn you. This ishisresidence...’ Jordan closed her eyes in exasperation for a brief moment. ‘I know he doesn’t usually come down here, but you have to be more guarded with your words.’
‘You’re not,’ Beatrice retorted.
As his PA, Jordan was Beatrice’s main source of information and, Beatrice thought, rather indiscreet.
‘The door is closed, Beatrice,’ Jordan pointed out, and then asked for the Prince’s take on the photos. ‘What’s he going to do about them?’
‘Nothing,’ Beatrice said, and opened up a window. ‘God, the place is going to reek of the stables...’
‘I don’t smell it,’ Jordan said. ‘Mind you, Stavros used to work there...’
