“Oh dear.” If Augusta had been as plain with her husband as she had been with her, then Leopold knew everything. “I think only the birth of this child will put her at ease, really. She’s not herself.”

He lifted his glass of wine. “To Lady Norfolk’s health.”

“To her health.” She touched her glass to his and their gazes met—and held. It felt almost as if they were suspended in a space where only they existed. She could feel the same energy thrumming between them as she’d felt when he kissed her in the coach. A flush that betrayed her was creeping into her cheeks.

The spell was broken by the butler, who entered and announced rather grandly to His Grace the Duke that supper was served.

“Ah, splendid,” Norfolk said, and strode across the room to offer Caroline his arm. “Shall we?”

In the dining room, Caroline was seated directly across from Leopold. She lost track of the conversation—something to do with horse racing, of course. She kept looking up and catching Leo’s gaze on her. She watched how he laughed and teased his friends, how he respectfully offered his thoughts and advice when asked. Who was this man? Was he the same man who took a woman from a brothel for his pleasure? The more she was near him, the more she felt as if she didn’t know him at all.

She couldn’t stop stealing looks at him. In the glow of the candlelight, she couldn’t stop wondering what if.

What if, what if, what if.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN


The impending birth of a child can be the most anxious of times for the entire household, including any servants, as they often bear the brunt of familial discomfort and uncertainty. Word reaches us that a young chambermaid disappeared from her post after suffering harsh treatment from her mistress in Arundel. How curious that the lass would disappear at the same moment an illustrious and princely guest took his leave of Arundel.

Ladies, two eggs, whipped to a cream, should be applied vigorously and directly to the scalp for two minutes, rinsed with lukewarm water, and followed by Kaylor’s head cream. The result will be hair that feels like silk and curls much easier.

—Honeycutt’s Gazette of Fashion and


Domesticity for Ladies

LEO HAD SPENT a good portion of the afternoon sniffing out where Jacleen might be, but in this monstrous castle, it was not unlike looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack. But Leo had a stroke of good luck when a maid carried in platters of food and tea for the duke and some of the local gentry who had come to call. She had a patch of green on her collar. She was slight and pale, with shadows under her eyes. She looked rather wan.

He watched her place the platter on a long table as instructed by the butler, and as she turned to go, Leo blurted, “Miss!”

The maid and the butler both turned to him, surprised.

“I’ve a shirt to be ironed,” he said quickly. It was the sort of order he had probably barked any number of times at Constantine Palace. A servant was a servant, there to do what was needed, and he rarely gave it any thought.

“Not her,” Henry said, appearing on his right and placing his hand on his shoulder. “She’s a kitchen maid. Janey will iron your shirt. Peterson,” he said, directing his attention to the butler, “send Janey to the prince’s suite.” Peterson nodded and gestured for the kitchen maid to go.

Henry laughed at Leo. “Traveling without a valet, Your Highness?”

“It is often more expeditious to leave him in London,” Leo said. “But he did warn me this might happen.”

Henry chuckled and wandered off to speak to some of his other guests.

Leo was certain that was Jacleen. So she was a kitchen maid. Now what? He couldn’t very well appear at the kitchen door and ask for her, could he? Perhaps he could pretend to be in need of something. No, that wouldn’t do. Henry had assigned a young footman to tend to Leo, and the lad watched him like a dog, trying to anticipate his every need.

And frankly, Leo was having a devil of a time escaping his host. After Leo had offered his apology for having offended his wife, Henry laughed. “She’s easily offended. You mustn’t pay the ladies any heed, Leo.” He certainly didn’t and proceeded to parade his friend the prince before his neighbors.

Perhaps later tonight, he thought. In Constantine Palace, kitchen workers slept near the kitchen. Work began at four o’clock in the morning in a large palace, and it kept them from padding around and disturbing those who were sleeping. He suspected the same was true of Arundel, give or take a half hour.

He settled on that, then. He would say he’d gotten hungry in the night and make his way to the kitchen, if he could find it. He’d already instructed Kadro and Artur to be ready at first light to escort him to London. Which meant he only had twelve hours left to find Jacleen.

Leo was so worried about his plan that he forgot about the shirt. When the maid Janey came to collect it, he was wearing it. Another blunder.

“I’m to iron a shirt, Your Highness,” she said cheerily, dipping a curtsy.

“Oh. Ah...” He looked around, seeking something she might iron, and finding none, glanced back at her and smiled sheepishly. “As it happens, it didn’t require ironing.”

“No?”

“The valet must have done it before I left. Or...or perhaps a footman here saw to it. I do beg your pardon.”

“Aye, Your Highness,” she said, undoubtedly relieved that she didn’t have to add the task to her list of chores. She curtsied again and turned to go.

“Girl,” Leo said abruptly. She turned back. “Janey, isn’t it?”

“Aye, Your Highness.” She smiled faintly.

Leo frantically tried to think of how to ask her where Jacleen might be. But the girl was staring at him, and he couldn’t think of a way to ask that didn’t seem entirely suspicious. He could imagine her hurrying back to the butler. Mr. Peterson, I think you should know that the foreign prince was asking how he might find Jacleen’s room! The thought appalled him, and he shook his head and smiled a little. “Nothing. Thank you.”

When she’d gone out, he dragged his fingers through his hair. “So, then,” he muttered aloud, “you are on your own, sir. For the sake of the kingdom of Alucia, I pray you manage without purchasing a ruin or a crate of live birds, or having to pay another one hundred quid. Or further damage a reputation that was, until recently, at least decorous.” He put his hand to his chest and bowed to himself. “Somewhat,” he muttered. “Don’t compliment yourself too heartily.”

He determined there was nothing left to do but wait until after midnight. Leo went down to dinner, joining Beck and Henry in the family’s private salon. But he bored of their conversation about racehorses and picked up a book, La Cousine Bette. He read until a footman opened the door and Lady Caroline entered the room. She entered like a queen, frankly, in a silk gown that seemed to move like a cloud around her as she walked.

She was lovely, a beauty by any standard. It did seem odd to Leo now that he didn’t remember meeting her in Chichester. He was generally very quick to notice beautiful women. So much so that a paramour had once accused him of seeing only the surface of women. Leo had thought about it and had agreed with her, much to that woman’s chagrin. But it was a truth—he’d never been in a position to form a meaningful connection with a woman for obvious reasons. He had to marry in Alucia and for Alucia, and any relationship he engaged in, romantic or otherwise, could be exploited. So he’d kept his interests to the physical.

If he was to judge on that criteria alone, Caroline Hawke met all his preferences.

Another reason he might not have noticed Lady Caroline that long ago evening was because of the habit he’d developed over the last few years of drinking far too much. It was a side of him that he did not like to admit to or examine, really, but alas, it was also truth. He drank to fill long, tedious hours of having nothing important to do. He drank to numb his feelings about being the spare prince with no meaningful responsibilities. But since his return from Alucia, he had noticed he didn’t have the same desire to fill those hours as he once had. Moreover, this recent change in his long-standing habit had made his mornings brighter and his days more coherent. He rather liked it.

And besides, something else occupied his thoughts now. Something important. He was determined to find these poor young women.

After speaking to Isidora and learning how she’d come to be in a brothel of all places, Leo’s mind had been made up. He couldn’t fathom men so unfeeling as to participate in such a scheme. And then to learn that one such man had been a friend of his, well...that left him feeling strangely ill. One assumed one knew his friends.

He would find these women and return home with them. He would help them face the men who had done this to them. He didn’t know how he’d possibly manage that, either, as he’d never tackled anything of importance in his life, and had deliberately steered clear of responsibility.

There was, as wisdom taught them, a first time for everything.

Which brought him around to thinking about Caroline again, as she, too, was a first of sorts for him. There was much more to her than a beautiful face and flawless figure. She had aroused his curiosity in new ways.

He had begun to realize, as he tried to bumble and maneuver his way through this new life of his, that he’d allowed himself to become intrigued by her. She was brash and impossible. Beautiful and sophisticated. Interesting. Furthermore, she’d accomplished something few people, if any, ever accomplished with him, and that was to turn his initial impression of her on its ear.