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The two women exchanged a look that was almost identical. “And you are...thicker,” Princess Justine said.
Thicker?He’d just had this suit of clothing tailored and the gentleman had proclaimed him perfectly trim.
“He doesn’t remember me,” Princess Amelia said, and folded her arms. Like her sister, she was slightly taller than average. She had a streak of white in her hair, too, but as her hair was golden, it looked more like a bit of blond.
“I beg your pardon, Your Royal Highness. It has been many years.”
Princess Amelia sniffed disdainfully.
“If I may, I am the master of Her Royal Highness’s chamber, Lord Bardaline, at your service.” The gentleman bowed, and the two princesses rolled their eyes in almost perfect unison.
“How do you do?” William was very much aware that Princess Justine’s gaze was moving over him, taking him in.
“Have you come alone?” Princess Amelia asked. “Or did you bring your friends?”
“Pardon?”
Princess Justine put her hand on her sister’s arm to silence her. “A better question is,whyhave you come?”
Princess Amelia sighed, clasped her hands behind her back and slunk away to the far end of the room to look at the painting. Bardaline’s eyes followed her every step.
But Princess Justine kept her gaze fixed on William, one dark brow arching above the other. She seemed bemused by him. But why? Surely, she knew he was coming. Or had there been some mistake? Perhaps she’d expected him another day? Or, hopefully, his father had it all wrong and he was not expected to be her nursemaid, after all—stranger mistakes had been made at Hamilton Palace. But as often was the case, William proved to be his own worst enemy and said, “Am I no’ expected?”
Both of her brows sank into a vee. “Certainly not byme, my lord.”
What the devil? Had no onetoldher?
“Your Royal Highness?” Bardaline stepped forward with a smile so forced and pained that William thought he should have hid it altogether. “Perhaps you might prefer to receive Lord Douglas at tea?”
William almost choked—he had no intention of staying for tea. Tea washoursaway. What about his scalding hot bath? He meant only to come and greet her and say whatever he must and leave. “Thank you, but I’d no’ take—”
“Je,”she said before he could finish his thought. “I should like to change.” And with that, she turned and walked out of the room, without inquiring if that would suit him, without any polite discourse at all, no asking after his health, no how-do-you-do after all these years. The épée bounced against her calf as she went, her hips moving in a manner so distinctly female that William had to swallow.
Princess Amelia scampered after her.
William looked at Bardaline, who, he noted, did not seem terribly surprised by her abrupt departure, but merely chagrined. He gestured lamely to the door. “If you will please come with me, sir.” He stepped into the hall.
William hesitated—he had the sinking sensation that he was about to walk off a plank into an untenable situation. And yet, instead of thinking of all the excuses he might make here and now, his mind’s eye was fixated on the image of Princess Justine walking away.
He followed Lord Bardaline like a milk cow headed to the barn.
CHAPTER THREE
AMELIAWASINSULTEDthat Douglas hadn’t immediately recalled who she was. In Amelia’s world, to be unremarkable was worse than being dead and forgotten. She carried on in disbelief as she jogged up the grand staircase in pursuit of the quicker Justine. “Why should he notrememberme? Does he go about meeting princesses every day?”
Justine didn’t remind Amelia she’d been a girl when they’d last been in London and had since changed considerably, because she herself was so incandescently angry that she thought she might explode.Bardaline, that snake, had come to fetch her from her fencing practice to tell her she had a caller, one who had come at the personal request of Robuchard. Well,thathad immediately raised her suspicions,andher hackles, because Robuchard was also a snake, and even from hundreds of miles away, he was intruding on her life.
But then when she’d seenwhohad come to call at thepersonal requestof Robuchard, she had very nearly choked on her fury.
Bardaline could have warned her.Someonecould have warned her. But no, they had surprised her with it, which meant she couldn’t beg off before being forced to reacquaint herself with that man. There was something underfoot, and damn them, she would not play this game, becausesheremembered Douglasverywell and with not the least bit of fondness.
But now her mind was racing ahead of her feet.Whyhad Robuchard sent him? Whyhim? For what purpose?
“Justine! You’re not even listening!” Amelia pouted as they strode through the carpeted hallway to Justine’s suite of rooms. A maid scurried out of their path and curtsied as they passed. Not that the princesses noticed. Justine was plotting the fiery, spectacular death of Lord Bardaline, themasterof herchamber,he’d said, in an obvious attempt to make his actual role as zookeeper sound more important than it was.
She flung open the door to her dressing room and called for Seviana, her maid. The young woman came running from the adjoining room at such a pace her lace cap bounced right out of one of the pins that anchored it to her hair.
“Your Royal Highness, how may I be of service?”
