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“I should think there would be one or two things you might want to know,” Princess Amelia said. “Is he handsome? Is he rich?”
“That goes right to the heart of it, does it no’?” William asked with a chuckle. “Aye, he is handsome.”
“And he is rich,” Lila confirmed.
“ThenIcan scarcely wait to meet him,” Princess Amelia said. “If Jussie doesn’t want him, perhaps I will.”
“Amelia,” Princess Justine said.
“What?”
“He’s not a doll to be passed between sisters.”
Lila surreptitiously studied Lord Douglas as Princess Amelia argued that her question was a fair one, as all Weslorian princesses must eventually find a match.
Lila suspected Douglas would meet Robuchard’s financial criteria for a match with the princess—meaning that surely as the heir to the Hamilton duchy, he had a fortune in his own right and would not drain the state coffers for his amusement.
But there was something else about him; something niggling at her. A shadow of a rumor, a bit of information she’d tucked away that was making her suspect he had a scandalous reputation. What was it that she was trying to recall? Whatever it was, she needed to know if it was something that would remove him from consideration.
Not that she cared, particularly. Reputations and scandals were things she was skilled at finessing. What she cared about was the spark in Princess Justine’s eye when she looked at Lord Douglas, and the way he couldn’t take his eyes off her. These two believed they were at odds, which simply delighted her. A man and woman who believed they were enemies made the most remarkable couples, ruled by passion. All she had to do was get them to see it...and then make them think it was their idea all along.
She was so exhilarated by this development that she almost skipped along.
“Madam? Lady Aleksander!”
They all stopped walking and turned around to see Bardaline striding down the path toward them. He was waving what looked like a calling card in his hand. When he reached Princess Justine, he bowed and held out the card to her.
The princess took it. She squinted. Held it out as far from her as she could until Princess Amelia snatched it from her hand and read it. “It’s the prince!” she said excitedly.
“Wonderful!” Lila said. “Lord Bardaline, might we trouble you for tea? I think introductions on the terrace among all the lovely flowers would be perfect.”
Bardaline bowed and started up the path. Princess Amelia hurried after him, probably to get a peek at the prince.
“Well, then,” Douglas said. “The time has come for me to take my leave.”
“Not at all, my lord! You must come and greet your friend,” Lila insisted.
“I would no’ call him friend. I’ve scarcely made his acquaintance.”
He wouldn’t be any closer to being Douglas’s friend after today, either. Lila looped her arm through the marquess’s. “He would be disappointed to miss you. Do at least come and greet him.”
“I’ll do as Her Royal Highness desires,” Douglas said, his gaze on Justine.
“Do as you like,” she said and began walking ahead of them.
He scowled after her, then turned a smile to Lila. “Then I’ll come and greet him.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
WILLIAMSNEEZED.
He shook it off, because sneezing interrupted his view, and he couldn’t believe what he was witnessing. Justine was laughing and batting her eyes and leaning in to hear the simp Aggiani speak of nothing. Gone were any signs of nerves. She had turned into her sister, who was also batting and giggling and leaning in to the gentleman when he spoke. It was enough to make a grown man want to put his fist through an Italian.
Justine couldn’t possibly be as enamored with this man as she was pretending to be. Was she doing it to goad him? To win the bloody bet he’d so foolishly made?
Really, what had he been thinking? What was he doing to himself? His goal, he reminded himself as he trailed after the lovers, was to be done with this task as quickly as possible, to return to his life of stopping his father from depleting the family wealth. He had given up his rakish ways...but Justine had looked so charmingly disheveled in the coach after leaving Stafford House that his cock had developed a mind of its own. He had desperately wanted to kiss her in that moment. He still did.
When he’d understood that Gaetano di Aggiani would be the first potential suitor, he’d almost laughed out loud. He’d managed not to, thankfully, but had begun at once to compose his missive to Robuchard in his head.My Lord Robuchard, I should hope the Weslorian crown has not spent an exorbitant amount on the services of a matchmaker, for her first potential suitor was quite possibly the worst candidate in all of Europe! A witch might have conjured a slightly better man using a few gnomes and some mushrooms!
