The way she snapped at the maid surprised Caroline. She’d never heard her speak so ill to a servant.

“I beg your pardon, milady.” The young woman spoke with a slight accent and seemed terrified of Augusta. She put the tea service on a table, then passed close to Caroline to collect a used glass. That’s when Caroline noticed something else about her—a tiny patch of green on her collar. Was that bit of color a coincidence, or was she Weslorian?

“Will you need anything else, milady?”

“No. Leave us,” Augusta said coldly.

The maid practically fled the room, and when Caroline turned back to Augusta, wondering what she ought to say, Augusta surprised her again by bursting into tears. “Augusta!” Caroline cried, and went at once to her side, dropping to her knees beside her. She took Augusta’s hand between both of hers. “What on earth troubles you?”

“That’s her,” Augusta said tearfully. “That’s the girl, the maid Henry is sleeping with.”

“You must be wrong, Augusta. I’m sure it’s all a misunderstanding. Henry would never.”

“He would! He thinks I don’t know, but they all talk, the servants whisper, and I hear them. She sleeps in a room off the kitchen, and twice now, I’ve caught him coming up the kitchen stairs wearing nothing but his nightclothes. He doesn’t come to me—he goes to her.”

“Augusta,” Caroline said softly. But she couldn’t find words that meant anything. What Augusta described was the worst thing she could possibly imagine and perhaps the very thing she expected. “I don’t...men are...well, they’re beasts,” she said, unable to find the appropriate word for the Duke of Norfolk.

“That’s why I don’t want him here,” Augusta said as tears slid down her cheeks.

“Henry?”

“No, the prince! You were right about him, Caroline. He’s a rake, and I think he has influenced Henry. They were mates in school, you know. They have a long history. And from what you said, I began to think on it. They’ve been hunting, and they go round to the gentlemen’s clubs. I heard the prince went to a brothel, and took a girl away from it,” she said, whispering the word. “He probably dragged Henry along.”

Caroline stared at Augusta. She had not a single word to offer in the prince’s defense. She’d heard all the same, but he didn’t strike her as the type to drag others into his corruption. “I’m so sorry, Augusta.”

Augusta turned in her chair and gathered a pillow to her chest and bent over it as best she could and sobbed.

Caroline slowly stood and went to the window. She looked down at the bucolic scene again. Henry was sleeping with that very young maid? Leopold was dragging his friends to brothels? She looked at him, so at ease. He was sitting on the grass now, his legs stretched before him, and the girls were climbing on him. It was hard to look at him now and picture that side of him. It was harder to understand what would drive a man to that sort of behavior. It made her stomach turn a little. Did he kiss those young women like he’d kissed her? Did he smile at them as he smiled at her?


THE LONG DAY with Augusta ended when she claimed a blinding headache and sent word to her husband she would not attend supper. That left Caroline alone to dine with the three men. This was a situation she generally relished. She’d even brought a spectacular green gown, one that had been rather plain three months ago but now boasted a modified train—really, the Alucians wore them too long—and a revised neckline that was more daring than what she typically wore. She had planned to be admired as she always did, but this evening she was feeling out of sorts. She didn’t want their attention or admiration. What she wanted was to be home with her cloth and her needle and thread and her imagination. Lord, she was turning into a spinster with every tick of the clock.

The maid who was sent to attend her as she prepared for the evening was a bubbly lass. Janey, she said her name was. She couldn’t have been more than sixteen, if that. About the same age as the other girl had appeared to be.

Janey was not shy about admiring Caroline’s gown or her looks. She was chatty. Caroline took advantage of that, and as she did a final check in the mirror, she said, “There is another maid here, a young woman with dark hair.”

“Oh, there are so many maids, madam! Arundel is the biggest thing I’ve ever seen. Maybe bigger than Windsor. That’s what Adam said. He’s in the stables, and he rides with the duke and duchess to London to care for the horses.”

“It is indeed a very big estate,” Caroline agreed. “But this girl... I think she is Weslorian?”

“Ah, Jacleen! Aye, she’s come all the way from Wesloria. Hadn’t been in London two weeks before the duke brung her here. It’s all so new to her.”

“I can imagine it must be very new to her,” Caroline said darkly. She didn’t know if she could look at the duke tonight, knowing what he did, knowing that he’d brought that poor young immigrant here to service him while his wife carried his fourth child.

When she finally went down to supper, Caroline was feeling unusually subdued and unlike herself. Beck frowned darkly when he saw her enter the salon, most likely a result of his displeasure with her décolletage. Caroline ignored him. He ought to be thankful that she wasn’t sleeping with a footman like his friend the duke or rounding up her friends to go traipsing off to brothels like his friend the prince.

“Wine, madam?” a footman asked, holding a tray out to her as Beck turned his attention to the duke. Far across the cavernous room, Leopold was sitting in a chair, an open book in his lap.

“Thank you.” She took the glass from his tray, then walked to the window and watched the sinking sun wash the countryside in soft gold light. She hadn’t stood there long when she slowly became aware of a presence. She glanced over her shoulder and smiled thinly at the prince. She couldn’t help herself—the look in his eyes stirred blood, fever and heat. What was wrong with her that she could be so physically attracted to such a rake?

“Good evening, Lady Caroline.”

“Good evening, Highness.”

“You look...” His gaze traveled down the length of her. “Very well, indeed,” he said at last. But his eyes said something more. Or maybe she imagined it, wanting him to mean more. Blast it, she didn’t know what she wanted from this man! To leave her be or take her into his arms?

“Will Lady Norfolk be joining us?” he asked.

“I don’t think so,” Caroline said, turning her attention to the window.

He moved to stand beside her and look out, too. They stood that way for several long and silent moments. Or maybe only a single moment. Caroline was losing track of time—all her senses were trained on his presence beside her. “You like children,” she said.

“Pardon?”

“I saw you playing with the girls earlier.”

“Ah.” He turned around, putting his back to the window so that he could face her. “I do like children, very much. Do you?”

“Yes.” She tapped a finger against her wine glass. “Do you ever think of having your own? What they will look like?”

He gave her a curious smile. “I suppose I have. Doesn’t everyone, at some point?”

She didn’t, really. She assumed she would have them, but with no real prospect of it, she didn’t think much about what her future children might look like, who they might be. “Well... I wish you and Lady Eulalie many happy, healthy children.”

Leopold’s countenance sobered instantly. “Yes.” He glanced away.

Caroline instantly felt contrite. She hadn’t meant to be rude; she’d meant to be polite. But given the turn their acquaintance had taken, it sounded a bit...petulant. She’d only said what was in her thoughts. What was so much in her thoughts suddenly. “I’m sorry—”

“No, don’t be,” he said quickly. “It’s a fair point.” He turned his gaze to her again and smiled sadly. “I find no joy in the inevitability of a match I did not seek.”

It surprised her that he would confess something like that to her. Of course it wasn’t a match he would seek—princes weren’t allowed to marry whomever they pleased. It hadn’t been that long ago that the Royal Marriages Act had been passed to keep royals from marrying people deemed unsuitable for the royal family. Leopold’s own brother had taken a great risk when he’d chosen Eliza—he could have been stripped of his investiture if his father had demanded it.

She suddenly felt a strange sort of sympathy for Leopold. How awful it must be to know all his life that the most important relationship he might have likely would not be of his own choosing. “Matches rarely are what we seek, I suppose.”

He gave her a distant smile. He glanced down at his glass and asked, “What about you, Lady Caroline? Is there a match you seek? Children you want?”

She shook her head. “I should like children one day, of course. But if I am honest, I don’t see it happening.”

He chuckled, as if she were being precocious. “Why not?”

“I don’t know, really, but when I picture my life, I see only me and Beck.” She smiled, ashamed to admit that was true. “We’re an odd little pair, my brother and I.”

“Circumstances have a way of bonding siblings to each other. For me and Bas, it was the box we were forced into as royal sons. For you and Beck, I would think it the tragic loss of parents at such a young age.”

That was true and perceptive of the prince—she and Beck had been inseparable all their lives, really. Beck had only been fourteen when their mother had died, their father gone long before that.

“How is Lady Norfolk?” he asked.

“She is...” Distraught. Devastated. Caroline shook her head. She was feeling so many confusing things just now. “She is very pregnant.”

“Ah. Perhaps she will feel at ease on the morrow when I take my leave.” He glanced around them, then said softly, “I heard them arguing last night, so I’m rather clear on her thoughts about me.”