“How are you, dearest?” the queen said to Eliza. As Eliza began to speak of her good health and whatnot, Caroline shifted her gaze to Lady Eulalie again. “Good afternoon,” she said with a polite nod.

Lady Eulalie serenely nodded her acknowledgment of the greeting but then stepped forward and said to Eliza, “Your Grace.” She curtsied deeply and perfectly, and Caroline didn’t know if she should admire her or hate her for it.

“Oh,” Eliza said, clearly not expecting a curtsy still. “Thank you.”

Not thank you, Eliza. Caroline bit her bottom lip and looked at her feet.

“Have you met our Lady Eulalie?” the queen asked. “She comes from a very good Weslorian family. The sort of Weslorians who consider the Alucians friends and not foe.” She tittered. Everyone tittered with her.

Caroline tittered the loudest—she was no fool. And when she did, she looked again at Prince Leopold. This time, she caught him looking past her, as if he was bored by this meeting. He slowly turned his gaze to her. Caroline arched a brow, flicked her gaze over him, then lifted her hand, palm up, silently questioning why he looked at her.

His brows knit in a disapproving frown, and then, damn him, he gave her a slight roll of his eyes and looked away.

He rolled his eyes.

That was it. Caroline had given that man all the chances she would give him. It was, as Eliza said, his loss. His very great loss.

“Lady Caroline, Hollis...will you allow us to steal my wife away?” Prince Sebastian asked. “We’ve a little surprise for her.”

“A surprise!” Eliza said. “I don’t think I can bear any more surprises.”

“Oh, I think you’ll like this,” the queen said.

“I’ll see her returned to you for tea, on my word,” Prince Sebastian said eagerly, and leaned forward and kissed Hollis’s cheek.

“Your Majesty, here is where I shall take my leave,” Prince Leopold said, and stooped to kiss his mother’s cheek.

“What? Where are you going? Will you not join us?”

“I’ve a prior engagement,” he said, and with a curt nod to everyone, he strode off before anyone else could speak.

The queen watched him go, then sighed and smiled sympathetically at Lady Eulalie. But Lady Eulalie gave the queen a slight shrug as if she didn’t mind at all.

Sebastian offered his hand to his wife. Eliza took it with a smile of pure adoration. The affection between these two was beginning to nauseate Caroline. Could two people really be so in love? She couldn’t imagine it—she’d never once felt the flutterings Eliza had described when she realized she’d fallen in love with Prince Sebastian. She had never felt anything more than a passing fancy, one that generally flamed brightly and died quickly as soon as the next, more attentive gentleman appeared. There had been times Caroline had wondered if there was something a little bit wrong with her in that regard. A heart too small or something like it.

“Come for tea!” Eliza called over her shoulder as her prince led her away in the company of Queen Daria and Lady Eulalie, and all the guards bringing up the rear. Hollis and Caroline realized at the same moment they were suddenly very much alone in the huge garden. It struck Caroline that she and Hollis would be very much alone in a matter of two days when they left Eliza’s fairy tale and returned to England without her. “Oh dear,” she said, and grasped Hollis’s hand. “I’m going to miss her terribly.”

“Me too,” Hollis said weakly. “Oh my, me too.” She sighed and looped her arm through Caroline’s. “Shall we return to our suite, then? There are a few notes I should like to make before we begin to pack.”

The day was lovely, and really, it was the first bit of air they’d had since festivities leading up to the wedding had begun. “I think I’d like to walk a little longer,” Caroline said.

“All right.” Hollis let her go. “Is it me, or does it feel strange to walk without a guard trailing behind?”

“It’s you,” Caroline said, and laughed. “I hope to never see a guard again.”

She watched Hollis stride off in the direction of the palace. Caroline went in the opposite direction, pleased to be free and alone, enjoying the sun and the air. After one full circuit of a considerable expanse of garden, she recalled the palace guard informing Eliza of benches at the center. The walking paths had been cut through hedgerows trimmed into various shapes and sizes, and every so often one would pass a seating area cut out of the shrubbery. She began to weave her way through the gardens toward the center. It would be nice to sit and think a bit in peace and quiet. She was in no hurry, pausing to look at various plants, or—blast it—to affix a train that had come loose. But as she neared the point where Eliza had left them, she heard low male voices.

Caroline slowed her step and moved quietly, pausing just outside the seating area. She leaned forward, trying to see through the thick bushes who was speaking.

She couldn’t see much of anything and leaned forward a little more. Suddenly, a man moved into her line of sight, his back to her. She surged backward, startled. She looked around, noticed a thinner part of the shrubbery where she might be able to see and crept toward it.

The men were speaking in Alucian. And then one abruptly said in English, “You can’t come here with this news.”

She froze. That was Prince Leopold. She dipped down to see through the shrubbery and saw the back of the man again. Oh, that was Prince Leopold, all right. She’d know that strong, square back anywhere. Or the collar-length dark brown hair brushed back behind his ears. But who was he speaking to?

Prince Leopold spoke again, but in Alucian. His voice was low, the cadence swift, the tone sharp.

Another man responded in Alucian. Caroline craned her neck to see, and when she caught a glimpse of the other man, she was all the more curious. He looked decidedly less privileged than the prince. He was broad, and his clothes very plain. His yellow-blond hair was unkempt and stuck out in a number of directions.

Prince Leopold spoke again, and he sounded slightly frantic. The other man smiled sadly at whatever the prince had said, nodded solemnly and said, “Je.”

She knew that meant yes.

Prince Leopold scraped his fingers over the crown of his head, looked once more at the mountain of a man and then, quite abruptly—or so it seemed to Caroline—walked out of the clearing.

She moved deeper behind the hedgerow. She waited for the man to go, but he dipped down beside a fountain and cupped his hands, bringing water to his face. He scrubbed his skin, then smoothed his scraggly beard. He seemed content to sit and think. Caroline meant to creep away, but when she tried, she found that blasted train snagged on the shrubbery. If she freed herself now, he would hear the rustle of her skirts.

After a few moments, he stood and began to amble toward the entrance of the clearing. By then, however, another sound had caught her attention, and Caroline glanced back to the path. Palace guards were quietly advancing toward the seating area the big man was about to leave. Her breath caught in her throat. She desperately wondered if she ought to warn the man, but before she could speak, it was too late.

The larger man tried to run, but he was no match for the younger, fitter guards, and they tackled him to the ground. Caroline may have cried out with alarm as they wrestled him, but it didn’t matter—no one heard her over the tussle. It took three guards to drag the man to his feet while one bound his hands. Two more guards appeared to help drag him away.

After they’d gone, Caroline stood rooted to her spot, still shaking a little. Who was that man? Had they arrested him? Had Prince Leopold set the guards on him?

What on earth had she just witnessed?

CHAPTER SEVEN


A supper was held to conclude the royal wedding festivities, attended by the few remaining foreign dignitaries who had traveled from afar to attend the wedding. The Duchess of Tannymeade hosted the supper as one of her first official acts. For the occasion, Queen Daria lent her a tiara boasting sixteen emeralds and matching the emerald earrings the queen had earlier presented her as a gift.

There were many notable figures assembled for the last celebratory meal, and perhaps none so intriguing as the Wren of Wesloria, whose song is believed to have captured the heart of a royal prince. It is said the marriage agreement has already been negotiated. Expect a formal announcement by the end of summer.

Ladies, when traveling by sea, it is best to leave your finer fabrics in your trunk, as salt spray will ruin a good garment and keep your clothing damp.

—Honeycutt’s Gazette of Fashion and


Domesticity for Ladies

KADRO, LEO’S GUARD, casually reported that Lysander had been detained. The news sliced through Leo. “When?”

“This afternoon,” Kadro said. “In the palace gardens.”

After he’d left him? After Leo had strode from the garden with that terrible, heart-pounding feeling of unease?

Leo still didn’t know why he’d gone to meet Lysander at all. Maybe because he didn’t want to hear Eulalie sing again. He’d sat through two songs and it felt like ants were crawling up and down his legs, so anxious was he to be at anything else.

But his mother had been enthralled. “The duchess must hear,” she’d insisted, and away they’d all trooped, in search of Eliza.

Or perhaps he’d gone because he was afraid he would be saddled with Lady Caroline if he lingered. He didn’t know if he could engage in conversation with her without wanting to tie his neckcloth around her mouth. He imagined it for one gloriously silly and strangely arousing moment—Lady Caroline’s mouth bound while her eyes flashed hotly at him.