“Dear God, it’s you.”

Leo instantly stopped walking. He turned slightly and looked directly into the lovely green eyes of Lady Caroline. “I beg your pardon. It’s you.”

She suddenly beamed at him, clearly delighted with her find. She took in his plain hat, his unassuming coat, and her smile turned impossibly brighter. “Well, well, what have we here? What are you about today, Your Highness? Hungry for a leg of mutton, are you?”

It was impossible to imagine that this woman, who had been in bed just a few days ago, could look so beautiful. She was a tad too thin, but the glow of health had returned to her cheeks, and her eyes were glittering with wicked delight. “It may surprise you, Lady Caroline, but I like mutton as well as the next man.”

“Do you know what I find interesting?”

“No, but I’ve no doubt you will tell me.”

“That the last Alucian gentleman who dressed like this was your brother. He was sneaking about, as you may recall. Are you sneaking about?”

“I see that your impertinence has returned in full. It’s rather astonishing that I must say this aloud, but what I do is no concern of yours. I think the better question is why are you here at all? Were you not deathly ill only two days ago?”

“Three,” she said. “But I am blessed with a hearty constitution, and I bounce back like a rubber ball.” She moved closer. “Why are you prancing about Leadenhall market dressed as a regular Englishman?”

“I am not prancing—I am walking. You can’t possibly understand, given that you are not a prince, nor inclined to listen, but sometimes it is easier to go round dressed like a regular Englishman.”

“Is it,” she said skeptically.

“It is,” he assured her. “Shall I call someone to help you to your carriage? You oughtn’t to be about.”

Her brows dipped into a decided V over her smile. She stepped closer. “Will you not humor me and tell me why you are here, Highness?”

He shifted closer to her, too. He could see the deep green specks in the irises of her eyes, dancing little eddies, drawing him in. “Will you not humor me and tell me why it is you think you have license to interrogate me? Why does anyone enter a meat market? I want a chicken.”

Her brows rose with surprise and she smiled with delight. She leaned forward. “A chicken?” she asked, her gaze on his mouth.

“That’s right, a chicken, Lady Caroline,” he said to her bodice. “The poultry at the hotel is not to my liking.” His gaze moved to the pert tip of her nose. And then to her succulent lips.

“But you have servants.”

“You sound like your brother.”

“Do I? That is somewhat alarming to hear, but I know that the difference between me and my brother is that Beck would probably accept your explanation without question. I won’t.” She tilted her head slightly as her gaze moved to his jaw, and up to his ear.

“But that’s the rub, madam. I don’t need or want your approval.” He desperately wanted to take her by the chin and force her to look him in the eye. He leaned so close that she had to look up. “No offense meant,” he added impertinently.

She smiled for the long moment it took for her gaze to travel lazily to his lips. “None taken.”

“Excellent. Then we may both be about our day.” He touched the brim of his hat and stepped around her. But when he did, his hand made contact with hers. It was a very slight tangle of fingers, hardly anything at all, and yet it set off fireworks inside him. “Good day, Lady Caroline. I shall leave you to your bouncing about like a rubber ball.”

“You’re scurrying away like a rat or a guilty man, Your Highness. What about your chicken?”

“Lady Caroline?”

Leo started almost as badly as Lady Caroline. She abruptly whirled around. “Mr. Morley!” She was breathless, either with surprise or delight, Leo didn’t know. “You found me!”

The gentleman was about the same height as Lady Caroline. He’d walked up behind them holding a basket carrying bread and flowers. “I thought I’d lost you,” he said with a nervous smile. “It would be quite easy to be lost in here, I think.” His gaze shifted to Leo. “I beg your pardon, sir. May I...?”

“Oh, I do beg your pardon, Mr. Morley,” Lady Caroline said, and Leo prepared to be introduced as a prince, at which point he’d have to make some elaborate excuse for being here admiring a row of hanging chicken carcasses without a royal guard in sight. “Mr. Chartier, my friend, Mr. Morley.”

Leo was surprised and relieved by the tiny bit of charity from her. Why she’d done it, he wasn’t certain, and he glanced at her questioningly.

She returned a faint smile.

“I am honored to be called your friend, Lady Caroline,” Mr. Morley said, grinning like a lad. “Mr. Chartier, how do you do?”

Leo nodded.

“Are you a Londoner, then?” Mr. Morley asked as the two ladies Leo had seen earlier arrived at his side, each of them carrying a small cake.

“At present,” Leo said. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, but if you will excuse me, I’m in a bit of a rush. Good day to you,” he said, and touching the brim of his hat, he turned to leave.

“Good day, Mr. Chartier!” Lady Caroline called in a singsong voice after him.

He could feel Lady Caroline’s gaze on his back, and he swore he could hear her laughter. Impudent woman. Impudent, irreverent, beautiful woman. Impudent, irreverent, beautiful, enticing woman.

With a mouth he would very much like to kiss into submission.

CHAPTER TWELVE


A crate of squawking chickens delivered to the Clarendon Hotel has upset the genteel patrons to the point of complaint. The chickens were a gift for a prince of a fellow from a Humble admirer in Lancashire. It has been said that the prince is so in search of good poultry that he took it upon himself to visit the Leadenhall market. Perhaps the prince might endeavor to raise his own perfect poultry in the ruins of Herstmonceux Castle.

A recent encounter at Gunter’s Tea Shop between a gentleman whose debts have been questioned and the gentleman who questioned them, was devoid of the dictates of polite society and resulted in both gentlemen being ejected from the premises. This serves as a solemn reminder that one must always bow to an acquaintance, even if that acquaintance is one’s enemy.

—Honeycutt’s Gazette of Fashion and


Domesticity for Ladies

CAROLINE WAS FEELING her old self again. The trip to Leadenhall, which Beck was adamant she not attempt, had done her some good after all. She hadn’t meant to go along, she hadn’t wanted to go along—she could think of nothing less attractive than a meat market. But Mr. Morley and his sisters had called, and Caroline had been desperate to escape them, and had said that she must accompany the new maid to Leadenhall, which she was certain would do the trick. Alas, much to her dismay, Mr. Morley said he would be delighted to accompany her as well, and turning to his sisters, he’d asked if they didn’t both need some beef sent home?

The day had been truly exhausting, physically, as she was still recovering, and also emotionally, as she found it taxing to be demure for such long stretches of time. But in the end, Caroline was very pleased that her legs had not lost their usefulness after all. Indications were that she would indeed dance again.

The other happy result of her trip to Leadenhall was the remarkable sight of Prince Leopold prowling around as if he were some inspector of birds. Not the poultry kind, either, as he maddeningly would have her believe.

Caroline had seen him in conversation with Ann Marble. She’d only noticed it because she’d spotted Molly, the kitchen maid, wandering around by herself, and had looked around for Ann. She’d been so intrigued by the intimate little tête-à-tête that she’d stepped away from Mr. Morley and his sisters and slyly moved in the prince’s direction.

She knew what those two were about, obviously. She knew the true nature of men, and she particularly knew the true nature of privileged men. He was a rake! The question was, what was she going to do about it?

She wondered what Beck would say if he knew about this despicable affair. Caroline did not intend to tell him...at least not now. She had her reasons. For one, she didn’t want to see Ann dismissed. She was good around their house, and besides, from what Caroline had gleaned from Martha, the poor girl was alone in this world. Beck had said as much when he brought her into the house. “Russell didn’t want to keep her, and I’d not like to see a young woman put to the street,” he’d said with a grimace.

But Caroline couldn’t allow this affair to continue. It would be a trifling thing to the prince, but it would ruin poor Ann. That was the thing Caroline had come to understand about men—their desire was so immediate, so intense, that they didn’t think of the consequences of what they were demanding. They thought of only the need. They didn’t see a person, really, but a feminine shape that appealed to them and their base instincts.

She’d noticed this, really noticed this, after her debut. She’d always known she was attractive, but she hadn’t realized just how attractive until that night. She had basked in the attention and the compliments, had found it exhilarating. And subsequently, at every party, every soiree after that, she sought the same feeling—of being admired. Of being desired.

But...it wasn’t long after that Caroline began to notice that the attention she gained was not particularly fulfilling. She knew what she looked like and how men looked at her. She began to understand that what attracted men to her was her near perfect shape, her face, her mouth, her hair...her exterior, in short. But they were not attracted to her.