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“I don’t know what to say about my mom and dad,” I began slowly. “I mean I love them, but Lord and Lady Sterling can be hard to explain.”
“No worries, I get it,” he said, driving slowly. We’d loaded ourselves into the Mini and were heading back to Miss Carroll’s, our bodies sated, our breathing finally still. A sense of calm had descended in the car, an easy silence between us. Would the other girls be able to tell that I’d just had a fling? Not just a fling but the most intensely physical and emotional experience of my life, a dick in my butt, jism all over my body?
But I had to tell him the truth.
“Lord and Lady Sterling,” I tried again, “we’re, how do you say it? Aristocrats but not really.”
He glanced at me briefly before turning back to the wheel, resting a big hand on my knee.
“Yeah, I’ve heard of your family,” he rumbled, “back in school, they made me study the royal houses of every European country. You guys are a cadet branch of the Stewarts right? Your fortune’s derived from real estate and horse racing.”
And he took my breath away again, the breadth of his knowledge, how it even extended to my family, minor nobility of a neighboring city-state.
“Yeah, the basis of our fortune was land, but I don’t think we have many holdings now,” I said slowly. “In fact, I’d be surprised if we had even one.”
“What do you mean?” asked Kristian smoothly. “Wasn’t your grandfather’s name on the Royalton Race Track at some point?” he asked quizzically. “We had a filly win there a couple years back, I thought that place belonged to your family.”
I took a deep breath.
“It might be, in name,” I said slowly, “because things sell better if the Sterling name is attached, development seems to go easier, sellers often get a premium, it’s easier to attract crowds. But the fact is that a lot of our real estate is mortgaged to the hilt, a lot of the properties are underwater.”
And I colored as I admitted this, shamefaced, unable to look at the prince. I knew I shouldn’t have felt bad, our family’s fortune had been declining for years and I was an eighteen year-old girl, hardly the one responsible. But I felt ashamed nonetheless, feeling the burden of our family crest, expectations which were about to be shattered forever.
“What are you saying?” he asked easily, looking over at me again and chucking me under the chin. “That the Royalton Race Track is owned by someone else?”
And I nodded slowly.
“It is,” I said. “It’s owned by some nameless conglomerate, some foreign entity that bought it from right under my dad’s nose. Well, not exactly,” I amended. “I just think that my dad didn’t have much choice. It wasn’t a hostile takeover or anything like that, he just didn’t have much say about what happened, we were so in debt.”
“And I only found out about all this myself,” I said quickly, rushing with my words. “I didn’t know, I …” I stopped miserably, unable to look at him.
“You what?” he said softly, shooting me another look as he drove. “What is it, Tina?”
“I was sent to Miss Carroll’s to find a rich man,” I said woodenly, twisting my hands in my lap, my knuckles white with agony. “I never meant for this to happen, I mean, I never meant for you and I, you know ...” I was so mortified that it was impossible to finish my sentences, I couldn’t even get the words out, how cheap I felt, how opportunistic, just a pawn in my family’s plan.
“And I was the ultimate catch?” Kristian asked wryly. “I was the guy that parents set their daughters on, hoping to snag a man with a fortune, ensnare him so that they could use his money to rebuild their castles, send their younger sons to college, even buy a couple nice dresses and purses for the missus?”
And shamefaced, I replied in a tiny voice, “Yes. My parents, they sent me to Miss Carroll’s for that purpose specifically. I wanted to go to school,” I burst out, “I wanted to study history or literature, figure out my path in life, but my parents,” I said mortified, shaking my head, my voice trembling, “they told me that our family’s future rested on my making a good match. Where would my brother end up if we didn’t have money? Where would I, for that matter?” I asked bitterly. “Lord and Lady Sterling have already received notice, they’re going to have to vacate their apartment in a few months for non-payment of rent,” I concluded miserably.
And Kristian laughed then, a big, belly laugh, his tall form shaking so hard that I was afraid he’d crash the car.
“What?” I asked, stupefied. “What, what’s so funny?” I’d just admitted my big secret to him and half-expected him to throw me out, drop me like a hot coal, but instead the man was laughing so hard that I seriously thought he’d lost a nut, his blue eyes dancing mirthfully as he took me in.
After he calmed down somewhat, he looked over at me again, those big hands still on the driving wheel, taking us through the outskirts of the city, back to St. Venetia.
“Tina,” he said gently, “I already knew all that.”
“You did?” I asked, stupefied. “Why? How?” What did he know that I didn’t? I was sure my parents took every precaution to hide our diminishing fortunes, refusing to give up country club memberships, keeping all the right friends, spending lavishly on vacations. From the outside, no one should have been able to tell.
“Because girls who go to finishing school are often on the outs,” he said gently. “There are a dozen finishing schools, all filled with pretty young things hoping to make a good match. You think you’re the only one from a destitute family, who’s trying to pimp out their little girl to save the family fortune?” He snorted. “At any given time, there’s a fifty percent chance that the lady in question is a pauper, dolled up to look like a million bucks.”
And I thought for a moment.
“I don’t think so,” I said slowly. “I’m at Miss Carroll’s and none of the other girls are poor, they’ve got clothes, shoes and jewelry up to their eyeballs. Plus a bunch of my high school friends attend finishing schools in Switzerland, Luxembourg and the South of France, I know their families are rolling in it.”
But the prince just shook his head.
“Trust me baby, their families are just better at hiding it,” he said gently. “In fact, some families blow their last pennies putting their daughters in these schools, as an “investment” to revive their fortune. They buy their girls everything, the fanciest designer duds, the swankiest outfits, all in a last-ditch effort to attract someone loaded,” he shrugged. “Believe me honey, I’ve seen it up close.”
