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He was intrigued by her admission. “Are you? Impetuous?”
“Terribly. Haven’t you guessed?”
“I had guessed.”
She laughed.
He wondered about that change of scenery. It was hard to imagine what could have possibly happened—she did not appear to be easily ruffled, which, he grudgingly noted, he liked about her. His guess? His, true, honest guess? That she could have her pick from the squads of gentlemen seeking her attention and would have no qualms about choosing. So something must have happened.
“Do you know,” she said breezily, “that you’re the only one who hasnotsought my attention in Iddesleigh? Is it because of your personal tragedy?”
He was so surprised that he almost danced her into another couple. “I beg your pardon?”
“It stands to reason.”
He was stunned. What she said was true, but people weren’t supposed to say it out loud, were they? He gave a laugh of sheer surprise. “I think you must be somewhat blind to your audacity, madam.”
“Astoundingly, I’m not. I don’t think I’ve said anything that others haven’t thought. Perhaps you are somewhat blind to your misery.”
He was flabbergasted, pushed completely onto his back heels. And he felt a small tremble of panic, that she meant to dissect his life then and there. He would not let that happen. He danced her to the corner of the dance floor and stopped. He bowed low. “As pleasing as the dance has been, you don’t know me, Your Royal Highness. You’re not in a position to make a single assumption about me. Thank you for the pleasure of a dance.” And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving her standing there quite alone.
How dare she? Howdareshe point out how bloody miserable he was? That was forhimto do—or Miles, in those moments he’d not admit it. Lord God, put a tiara and a royal sash with lots of medals on a girl, and don’t forget the gold and white braid of hair, and suddenly, she was an expert on a man she didn’t know.
He would take his misery elsewhere, thank you.
And apparently, whether he wanted to or not, he would take the memory of those shining hazel eyes and that beguiling smile.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
AMELIACOULDN’TTHINKof a single time in her life she’d been left standing alone on the edge of a dance floor. Remarkably, it wasn’t quite as traumatic as she might have imagined. But neither was it pleasant.
She did feel regretful. As was often the case with her, she had spoken without thinking. She hadn’t meant to upset him or offend him, but had assumed it was perfectly obvious to him why he was reluctant to enjoy himself at a ball. She didn’t have time to ponder, however, because Lila was there straightaway. Heaven forbid a princess be left alone with her thoughts for a single moment.
As her vaunted position as Amelia’s matchmaker, Lila’s expression was filled with concern. Her gaze followed the Duke of Marley until he disappeared into the crowd. She looked at Amelia. “Are you all right? You’re flushed.”
Amelia pressed the tips of her fingers to her cheeks. “The exertion of the dance. I think I should like the retiring room.” What she would really like was a few moments without anyone speaking to her. She needed to think about what had happened. Or rather, how she was feeling. There was something about that man that was giving her an uncharacteristic case of butterflies.
“Certainly.” Lila indicated a door just a few feet from them. “It’s just through there. I’ll wait for you here. Mr. Richard Cassidy is next on your dance card. Poor man has asked me more than once if I’m certain his name is listed.”
Mr. Richard Cassidy.Amelia remembered him from Lila’s review of all the gentlemen who were attending with the desire to meet her and state their case. A high-ranking soldier, had come into a substantial fortune, left to him by his grandmother. Blue eyes, maybe?
Well, whatever she’d learned about him, she had not been then or was not now terribly interested. “I’ll be just a moment,” she said, and walked out of the ballroom, her gaze straight ahead. When one needed a moment to breathe, it was best not to make eye contact. When she made eye contact, people often mistook it for an invitation to speak.
In her experience, people at events like this fell into two camps: those who were convinced that a princess was desperate to hear what they had to say and would take advantage of any opportunity to say it. And those who were afraid of speaking at all, as if they feared they would turn to stone if they did.
She found the retiring room easily enough. When she opened the door, a silk screen had been placed to block the view of ladies inside. But at the end of the screen, she could see a line of mirrors and vanities with stools. At least one woman was seated—she could see the fabric of her skirt spilling over onto the stool next to where she was sitting. Amelia paused where she was to collect herself before entering. Whoever was inside would undoubtedly want to speak to her.
“Did you hear what she said to Lady Bricking?” a woman asked, confirming there were at least two women seated at the mirrors. “I could scarcely believe my ears.”
Lady Bricking...that name sounded familiar. Amelia had met so many people this evening she could hardly remember them all.
“No! What did she say?” The second woman sounded eager for gossip.
“She said she understood her husband had been an admiral in the Royal Navy and that he must draw a fine pension.”
Oh. They were talking abouther. Because she’d said exactly that to Lady Bricking, now that she thought about it. Was she wrong? She’d heard it from an Englishman at a state dinner in St. Edys. He’d been seated next to Amelia and had grown more verbose as the wine had flowed. He’d said he’d been an admiral in the Royal Navy and boasted he could sail the world twice over with the pension he’d received upon his retirement.
“Shedidn’t,” the second lady said.
