The Princess & the Pea by Victoria Alexander Read Free Book Online

instrument of what came perilously close to a business transaction.
    He pulled his gaze from her retreating figure and turned to help Quentin right the vehicle.
    "Pity," he said, and realized with a shock just how very much of a pity it was.
    Emily greeted Cece halfway up the hill. Cece threw her an angry glance.
    "Well." Emily said slowly. "I gather we'll be going on to London now."
    "Don't wager on it." Cece squared her shoulders and glared straight ahead. "I'm going to Paris."
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Chapter Three

     
    "Explain to me again exactly why we've come to Paris." Emily trailed in the wake left behind by Cece's determined push through the throng.
    "We're in Paris, Emily," Cece said patiently, "because Mother has always wanted to see Paris and Father always promised to take her." She scanned the crowded park in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower. "It's as simple as that."
    Emily shook her head. "Nothing is ever as simple as you make it sound. Even if I believed you—and I'm quite sure I don't—that still doesn't explain why you've dragged me into the midst of this ill-mannered mob."
    Armed with her effortless American smile, imposing, beribboned hat and lethal parasol. Cece worked her way through the swarm. "Why, to see the start of the race, of course."
    "What race?" Emily said cautiously.
    "Paris to Bordeaux and back." Cece glanced behind her as if to confirm that Emily followed and proceeded with her relentless forward progress. "Seven hundred and thirty-two miles. The article in the Herald said it follows an ancient Roman route. It's all terribly exciting. It's history in the making and we shall be a part of it."
    Suspicion narrowed Emily's eyes. "Do Mother and Father know we're here?"
    "Don't be absurd." Cece's manner was nonchalant. "They'd never allow us to come alone." Her gaze skimmed the multitude. "They think we've gone back to the Louvre."
    Emily gasped. "You lied to them."
    "Not quite." Cece said absently, still searching the crowd. "If you recall, we did drive past the Louvre on our way here. We simply didn't stop."
    "It's the same thing." Emily said, her words colored with indignation.
    "Emily"—Cece stopped forging her way through the assembly and turned toward her sister, her tone tolerant—"I am nearly twenty-one. and you are fast approaching eighteen. We are grown women. Adults. If I had told Mother and Father, they would have treated us like children and forbidden us to come. And since I would have come anyway, it seems best if they are unaware of our little venture here. They can't possibly be upset about something they know nothing about." She raised a brow. "You won't tell them, will you?"
    Emily released an exasperated sigh. "Of course I won't tell. But I am getting tired of keeping all these confidences of yours. You have more plots and plan simmering in your head than Mr. Jules Verne."
    Cece smiled. "What a lovely thing to say. Thank you."
    "It was not meant as a compliment," Emily muttered.
    "I know. Now," Cece said briskly, "let us continue to make our way through this mass of people." Cece started off and Emily struggled to catch up with her.
    "What on earth are you looking for anyway?" Emily panted with the effort to match Cece's much longer and far more determined stride.
    "I just wish to get a good look at the automobiles." Cece said vaguely. They broke through the crowd into a cleared space. Automobiles were lined up in anticipation of the start of the race. Spectators and drivers and the curious milled around. "Oh, look, Emily, aren't they magnificent?"
    Emily shoved through the assembly to join her sister and examined the vehicles with disdain. "They're machines, Cece, I hardly think magnificent is the appropriate word."
    "Well. I think they're quite wonderful." She stepped closer and eyed the line of metallic steeds. "They certainly appear polished, don't you think? They make Mr. Grayson's vehicle look positively primitive."
    "It is primitive," Emily said wryly.
    "Not primitive," Cece corrected,