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William started for the door. “Donna wait up for me. In fact...” He paused and reached into his pocket for his purse. He withdrew a few bills and handed them to Ewan. “Have a pleasant evening.”
Ewan stared at the bills in his hand. “Doing what?”
“I donna know, lad. Supper. A pub. A brothel.”
The big man blanched at the mention of a brothel. “I’dnever.”
William couldn’t help a fond smile for this man who was more like an uncle to him than a valet. It was yet another reason he held him in such high esteem. “Then do something interesting, aye?”
“Aye,” Ewan said. But he looked perplexed.
ONTHEWAYto Prescott Hall, William fussed with the chain of his pocket watch, which had caught on a button of his waistcoat, reminding him why he never liked to carry this particular watch. He was in fine spirits otherwise. He would not admit it to a living soul, but he’d been looking quite forward to this evening. He wasn’t an opera aficionado, although he did enjoy it on occasion. What he was looking forward to was Justine. He wanted to know how she would react to the opera. He wanted to see her smile, or to give him that look of exasperation tinged with amusement.
He most especially wanted to kiss her again.
Och,but he’d thought of that kiss too many times to feel completely sane about it. It had kicked some spark into a stalled life, had set the wings of his imagination flapping, had made him feel a wee bit crazed.
When he arrived at Prescott Hall, and the problem of the chain to his pocket watch had been resolved, he sprung from his father’s coach with a lightness he’d not felt in an age. He strode up the steps. The door opened before he reached the landing, and the butler bowed.
“Good evening,” William said and doffed his hat. “William Douglas. I’ve come for Her Royal Highness Princess Justine.”
The butler drew the door open for him. “If you would be so kind as to wait just here.” He gestured to the grand foyer. When William stepped across the threshold, he invited him to put his hat on the console, then briskly walked away.
William stood. He could hear laughter coming from somewhere deep in the house. He inched a few steps deeper into the foyer and cocked his head, listening. Aye, more laughter. Justine’s laugh, light and tinkling. Another female. More than one male.
A door opened, then closed, and theclick click clickof the butler’s heels on the tiled floors moved toward him. He strode into the foyer and bowed. “Her Royal Highness will see you.”
He should certainly hope so, as he was expected. He had a sudden inclination to make this butler understand that he knew the man’s princess better than he did. But he walked agreeably along behind the man and was shown into a small salon he’d not seen before. The first thing he saw was Dodi, who came racing for him as if they were old friends. She put her paws on his leg, and he leaned to one side to scratch her behind the ears. He was prepared to make a quip about passing a gauntlet to reach her, but when he turned his head and saw Justine, he was not expecting her to look so...queenly,and it took him a beat or two to remember not to gape.
She looked like a dream. She was wearing a gown of gold silk, embroidered and appliquéd with fine gold-and-silver thread. The sleeves sat just below her smooth shoulders, and a garland of silk flowers decorated the form-fitting bodice. Between her breasts she wore a royal badge of some sort. A diamond choker graced her slender neck, the pattern and design of which matched the diamond tiara she wore on her head. Her hair had been styled with a cascade of soft curls framing her face.
He bowed. “Your Royal Highness.”
“My Lord Douglas,” she said and put out her gloved hand to him. He bent over it, his lips touching her knuckles, his finger finding the small buttonhole at her wrist and touching her skin. He lifted his head. “If I may, you are a vision this evening.”
“How kind.” She looked gay and happy and beautiful, and he had never been so pleased in his life to be accompanying someone to the opera. Or anywhere, for that matter.
“May I introduce you to my chaperone?”
“Pardon?”
She laughed.
William turned his head, and when he did, his gaze fell on the smug, punchable face of Jonathan Ashley.
Jonathan Ashley.
The man who had tried to debauch the one woman William had ever loved and had very nearly succeeded. He couldn’t understand what he was doing here. A feeling of alarm—because he was certain Ashley was here by some terrible mistake—mixed sourly in his gut.
Dodi pawed his leg. Justine bent down and picked her up.
“Lord Douglas. How long has it been?” Ashley asked and casually strode forward to greet him. “What a pleasure it is to see you after all this time.”
William could only stare at him. He noticed then that Ashley was dressed in formal attire. The sour mix turned bilious, and he turned to Justine. She was beaming. “I understand you two are old friends!”
“Pardon?”
“I told you I’d find a chaperone.” She laughed. So did Ashley. Loudly. “Lord and Lady Bardaline mean to join us as well. They insisted, of course. They can’t let a princess into the world all on her own.”
