What Happens in London (15 page)

Harry gave him a cool look. “I was armed at various times with a saber, a rifle, and bayonet. I killed frequently.”

The prince met his stare with equal measure. “You sound as if you enjoyed it.”

“Never,” Harry said curtly.

One corner of the prince’s mouth curved very slightly. “Evil is sometimes necessary for good to flower,
da
?”

Harry acknowledged this with a single nod.

The prince took a sip of his tea, even though Harry had not yet been served. “Do you fence, Sir Harry?”

“Only passably.” This was true. They hadn’t had a proper fencing master at Hesslewhite. As a result, Harry’s sword skills were far more military than competitive. He was mediocre at the parry, but he knew how to go in for the kill.

“Here is that extra cup,” Olivia announced, taking it from the maid, who had just returned. “Sir Harry, you take yours without sugar, do you not?”

“You remember,” he murmured.

She smiled at him, a happy, earnest thing that floated across him like a warm breeze. He felt himself smiling back, unbidden, unfeigned. She looked at him, and he at her, and for one breathtaking moment they were alone in the room.

But then she turned away, murmuring something about tea. She busied herself fixing his cup, and he found that he was transfixed by her hands, lovely and elegant, and yet somehow not quite graceful. He liked that. Every goddess needed imperfections.

She looked up again and saw that he had been watching her. She smiled again, and then he had to do the same, and—

And then the damned prince had to go and open his mouth.

Five Things I Quite Like About Sir Harry Valentine

By Olivia Bevelstoke

Smile

Wit

Eyes

Will speak to me through a window

V
ladimir!” the prince suddenly barked out, rendering Olivia’s accounting one item short.

Vladimir immediately crossed the room to Prince Alexei, who issued what certainly sounded like an order in Russian. Vladimir grunted his assent and then added his own incomprehensible stream of words.

Olivia looked over at Harry. He was frowning. She supposed she probably was, too.

Vladimir made another gruff sound and returned to his corner, and Harry, who had been watching the entire exchange, looked at the prince and said, “He’s very convenient.”

Prince Alexei gave him a bored stare. “I do not understand your meaning.”

“He comes, he goes, he does whatever you say…”

“That is his purpose.”

“Well, of course.” Harry let his head tilt very slightly to the side. A shoulderless shrug is what it was, and just is careless in appearance. “I did not say otherwise.”

“It is necessary for those of royal status to travel with attendants.”

“I fully agree,” Harry replied, but his agreeable tone only seemed to needle the prince further.

“Here is your tea,” Olivia cut in, holding a cup out for Harry. He took it, thanking her quietly before taking a sip.

“I take mine the same way as Sir Harry,” she said, to no one in particular. “I used to take sugar, but I’ve found I’ve lost the taste for it.”

Harry looked at her with a curious expression. Olivia was not surprised; she could not recall the last time she’d made such dull conversation. But surely he realized that she had no choice.

She took a deep breath, trying to navigate the undercurrents of the conversation. The two men detested each other, that much was clear, but she’d been in rooms with people who hated each other before. It wasn’t usually quite this palpable.

And while she’d like to think that it was all for jealousy over her, she could not help but feel there was something else afoot.

“I have not been outside yet today,” she said, since the weather was always a dependable conversational distraction. “Is it warm?”

“I think it will rain,” the prince said.

“Oh well, that is England for you, isn’t it? If it isn’t raining, it’s pouring. And if it isn’t pouring…”

But the prince had already removed his attention to his rival. “Where is your home, Sir Harry?”

“Lately, next door,” Harry said cheerfully.

“I thought that English aristocrats have grand homes in the country.”

“They do,” Harry replied affably. “Of course, I am not an aristocrat.”

“How is the tea?” Olivia asked, a touch desperately.

Both men grunted an answer. Neither was more than one syllable. And neither syllable was particularly intelligible.

“But you are called Sir,” Prince Alexei said.

“True,” Harry replied, not looking at all concerned by his lack of status. “But it does not make me an aristocrat.”

Prince Alexei’s lips curved ever so slightly.

“Baronets are not considered part of the aristocracy,” Olivia explained, giving Harry an apologetic look. It really was rude of the prince to hammer on about Harry’s lower rank, but one did have to make allowances for cultural differences.

“What is this ‘baronet’?” the prince asked.

“Endlessly in between,” Harry replied with a sigh. “A bit like purgatory, really.”

Alexei turned to Olivia. “I do not understand him.”

“He means, or at least I think he means”—she shot a peeved look at Harry because she had no idea what he thought he was doing, purposefully antagonizing the prince—“that baronets are not a part of the aristocracy, and yet they are not untitled. That is why he is called Sir.”

Prince Alexei still looked confused, so Olivia explained, “In order of rank, beneath royalty, of course, there are dukes and duchesses, marquesses and marchionesses, earls and countesses, viscounts and viscountesses, and finally, barons and baronesses.” She paused. “Then baronets and their wives, but they are considered part of the gentry.”

“So very low,” Harry murmured, having fun with this now. “Miles and miles below someone like you.”

The prince glanced at him for barely a second, but it was long enough for Olivia to see the distaste in his eyes. “In Russia, the aristocracy provides a structure for society. Without our great families, we would fall apart.”

“Many feel the same way here,” Olivia said courteously.

“There would be—how do you say it…”

“Revolution?” Harry supplied.

“Chaos?” Olivia guessed.

“Chaos,” Alexei selected. “Yes, that is it. Revolution I do not fear.”

“We would all be wise to learn from the experiences of the French,” Harry said.

Prince Alexei turned on him with fire in his eyes. “The French were stupid. They allowed the bourgeoi
sie too many freedoms. We do not make this mistake in Russia.”

“We do not fear revolution in England, either,” Harry said softly, “although I expect it is for different reasons.”

Olivia’s breath caught. He’d spoken with such quiet conviction, in such contrast to his earlier flippancies. His serious tone could not help but capture the moment. Even Prince Alexei paused and turned to him with an expression that was…well, not respect, exactly, for he clearly did not appreciate the comment. But perhaps there was some sort of recognition, an acknowledgment of Harry as a worthy opponent.

“Our conversation grows so serious,” she declared. “It is far too early in the day for such talk.” And when that failed to garner an immediate response, she added, “I can’t bear political discussions when the sun is shining.”

Actually, what she couldn’t bear was making herself out to be a complete ninny. She adored political discussions, at any time of day.

And the sun wasn’t shining, either.

“We are most rude,” Prince Alexei said, rising from his seat. He came before her and sank to one knee, leaving her speechless. What was he
doing
?

“Can you forgive us?” he murmured, taking her hand.

“I—I—”

He brought her knuckles to his lips. “Please.”

“Of course,” she finally got out. “It is—”

“Nothing,” Harry put in. “I believe that is the word you’re looking for?”

She would have glared at him if she could have seen him around Alexei, who was presently filling her entire breadth of vision. “You are of course forgiven, Your Highness,” she said. “I was being silly.”

“It is the right of all beautiful women to be silly when they wish.”

The prince moved at that point, and Olivia did catch a glimpse of Harry’s face. He looked as if he might gag.

“You must have a great many appointments here in London,” Harry said, once Alexei had resumed his seat.

“I am given several awards,” he said, looking confused and annoyed by the change of subject.

Olivia jumped in to translate. “I think what Sir Harry means is that you must have many commitments, many people to meet.”

“Yes,” Alexei said.

“Your days must be very busy,” Harry added, his voice just a touch impressed and fawning.

Olivia frowned. She had a feeling she knew what he was up to, and it would not end well. “You must lead a very exciting life,” she said quickly, trying to shift the conversation.

But Harry was not to be diverted. “Today, for example,” he mused. “You must have a terrific schedule. How honored Lady Olivia is that you should take time out to see her.”

“I would always make time for Lady Olivia.”

“You are ever generous with your company,” Harry said. “From what do we take you this afternoon?”

“You
take me from nothing.”

Harry gave a knowing little smile, just to show that the insult, while noticed, had not stung. “Where else could you be this afternoon, Your Highness? With the ambassador? With the king?”

“I could be anywhere I wish.”

“Such is the privilege of royalty,” Harry mused.

Olivia bit her lip nervously. Vladimir had begun to inch his way over, and if there was to be violence, Harry was not going to emerge the victor.

“I am so honored by your presence,” she said—the absolute only sentence she could think of quickly.

“Why, thank you,” Harry quipped.

Stop
, she mouthed at him.

Why?
he mouthed back.

“I think you speak without me,” Alexei said angrily.

Vladimir moved ever closer.

“Of course not,” Olivia assured him. “I was only trying to remind Sir Harry that his cousin is…ehrm…expecting him for, er, a meeting.”

Alexei looked most dubious. “You said all this?”

Olivia could feel her skin burning. “Quite a bit of it,” she mumbled.

“I really must go,” Harry said abruptly, standing up.

Olivia stood as well. “Please allow me to escort you to the door,” she said, trying not to sound as if it were coming through clenched teeth.

“Please do not trouble yourself,” he replied. “I would not dream of asking so beautiful a lady to get up.”

Olivia blanched. Did Alexei realize that Harry was mocking him? She looked over at the prince, trying not to be obvious about it. He did not seem to
have taken offense; in fact, he looked quite pleased. That is, he looked quite pleased in a rather stiff and reserved sort of way. Perhaps satisfied was a better description.

Harry saw himself out, depriving Olivia of the chance to tell him exactly what she thought of his childish behavior. She gripped the edge of the sofa cushion beneath her, seething. He would not escape so easily. He had no idea what it meant to allow a woman’s ire to fester. Whatever she had to say to him, it would be far less pretty tonight than it would have been this afternoon.

In the meantime, however, there was still the prince to attend to. He sat across from her, his expression somewhere between satisfied and smug. He was pleased that Harry had gone, and probably even more pleased that she was now alone with him.

And Vladimir. One really could not forget about Vladimir.

“I wonder where my mother is,” Olivia said, because, really, it was odd that she had not made an appearance. The door to the sitting room had been left quite properly open the entire time, so her presence was not needed as a chaperone, but Olivia would have thought that she’d have wanted to greet the prince.

“Is it necessary for her to be here?”

“Well, not really.” Olivia glanced over at the open door. “Huntley is right there in hall…”

“I am glad we are alone.”

Olivia swallowed, not sure what to say to this.

He smiled a little, but his eyes grew heavy. “Are you nervous to be alone with me?”

I wasn’t until now.

“Of course not,” she said. “I know that you are a gentleman. And besides that, we are not alone.”

He blinked several times and then laughed abruptly. “You do not mean Vladimir?”

Olivia felt her eyes dart back and forth across the room, from the prince to his attendant, and then back again, several times. “Well, yes,” she said haltingly. “He’s right…there. And—”

Alexei waved away her concern. “Vladimir is invisible.”

Her uneasiness grew. “I don’t understand.”

“It is like he is not here.” He smiled at her, and not in a way that made her comfortable. “If that is how I wish it.”

Olivia’s lips parted, but she had absolutely nothing to say.

“For example,” Alexei continued, “if I were to kiss you—”

Olivia gasped.

“—it would be the same as if we were alone. He would not tell anyone, and you would not feel any more…how do you say it…uncomfortable.”

“I think you should go, Your Highness.”

“I should like to kiss you first.”

Olivia stood, knocking the table with her shins. “That won’t be necessary.”

“No,” he said, rising to his feet as well. “I think it is necessary. To show you.”

“To show me what?” she said, unable to believe she was asking the question.

He gestured to Vladimir. “That it is as if he is not here. I must have protection at all times. He is with
me always. Even when—I should not say it in front of a lady.”

There was quite a bit already he should not have said in front of a lady. Olivia scooted along the edge of the sofa, trying to make her way out of the seating area and over to the door, but he was blocking her way.

“I will kiss your hand,” he said.

“Wh–what?”

“To prove to you that I am a gentleman. You think I will do something else, but I will kiss your hand.”

It felt as if her throat were closing up. Her mouth was open, but she didn’t seem to be breathing. He had unnerved her completely.

He took her hand. Olivia was still too shocked to pull it back. He kissed it, his fingers stroking hers as he released her.

“Next time,” he said, “I will kiss your mouth.”

Oh, dear God.

“Vladimir!” Alexei let out a short stream of Russian, and his servant came immediately to his side. Olivia was horrified to realize that she had forgotten that he was there, although she was quite certain this was only because she had been so surprised by the prince’s outrageous conversation.

“I will see you tonight,” Alexei said to her.

“Tonight?” she echoed.

“You attend the opera, yes?
The Magic Flute
. It is the first performance of the season.”

“I—I—” Was she attending the opera? She couldn’t think straight. A royal prince had attempted to seduce her in her own sitting room. Or at least
had
sort of
attempted to do so. In the presence of his hulking manservant.

Surely she had earned a bit of befuddlement.

“Until then, Lady Olivia.” Prince Alexei swept from the room, Vladimir in his wake. And all Olivia could think was,
I need to tell Sir Harry about this
.

Except that she was furious with him.

Wasn’t she?