The Trouble With Princesses by Tracy Anne Warren Read Free Book Online Page B

seated themselves beside her, leaving the sofa unoccupied except for herself. But he outranked everyone in the room, including her, which meant he could sit anywhere he liked.
    He hid another smile as he sank down beside her, noticing the way her lips thinned with barely concealed annoyance. Gracefully, she shifted a couple of inches away to put more space between them.
    He laid a napkin across his knee and began to eat.
    He watched her silent struggle as she decided whether to offer him tea, but a lifetime of training could not be ignored, not even by Ariadne.
    “Would you care for tea, Your Royal Highness?” she inquired, reaching toward the silver urn.
    “Nein,” he answered in his native Rosewaldian dialect. “A small beer would be appreciated, however.”
    Her gaze met his, her lips parting as if she longed to make some retort. Instead, she nodded toward a footman who waited in a far corner.
    “ A beer for His Royal Highness,” she informed the servant.
    The man gave a smart bow, then departed.
    She turned back to her retinue of admirers, smiling widely at them even as she strove to ignore Rupert. “So, gentlemen,” she said, “if I remember correctly, Lord Norling was just about to tell us about the most amusing wagers currently being laid at the clubs. Pray do continue, my lord.”
    Norling, the marquess, cleared his throat, looking uncomfortably at Rupert before speaking. “Yes, well, I seem to recall one about Viscount Hertsly. He bet his friend that he could shovel . . .” He frowned, his words trailing away as if reconsidering. “Well, no, maybe not that one.”
    He paused, running a hand over his thinning pate. “There’s another tale, highly droll . . . It concerns eels, but—” He broke off again, shooting another unsettled glance at Rupert.
    Rupert said nothing. He just sat calmly eating his snack.
    “Yes, well, again, not really suitable for ladies, Princess.”
    “Oh, pray do share, my lord,” she entreated. “You have us all most intrigued, myself in particular.”
    Norling stuck a finger inside his cravat as if it had suddenly decided to strangle him.
    “Yes, Norling,” Rupert drawled. “By all means, regale us with your tales that are, by your own admission, wholly unsuitable for the ears of ladies.”
    The marquess’s face paled and he shot to his feet. “A-another time perhaps. I am dreadfully sorry, but I just recalled that I am promised at my solicitor’s office in fifteen minutes. I shall have to hurry to make it across Town.” He bowed awkwardly. “A pleasure as always, Your Highness. Prince.”
    And then he was gone.
    Several other of the gentlemen suddenly remembered appointments of their own and began making their excuses as well. A veritable exodus ensued as they hurried out the door.
    Rupert’s beer arrived. He sipped it as he watched the byplay, finding Ariadne’s gentlemen callers as entertaining as a production on Drury Lane.
    Ten minutes later, only two remained—the king’s horse-toothed cousin, who sat cramming his mouth full of biscuits, and the dark-haired lord. The latter looked amused and relaxed, one arm draped over the back of his chair. With leisurely ease, he rose to his feet and strolled forward.
    “Princess,” he said, “I too ought to depart. As one of the first to pay you a call, I have no wish to overstay my welcome.”
    “Not at all, Lord Selkirk. You may stay and visit as long as you wish.”
    Selkirk smiled. “You make a tempting offer, but I really must go. What time shall I come for you tomorrow? Does nine o’clock sound agreeable?”
    Ariadne extended a hand. “Most agreeable. I look forward to the occasion.”
    Selkirk made her an elegant bow. Then he turned. “Come along, Bartsby,” he told the king’s cousin. “I believe you have made deep enough inroads into the tea tray for one afternoon.”
    Bartsby made a huffing noise that couldn’t be understood past the food in his mouth. Hastily he swallowed; then he too rose