As Evie smiled nervously, bringing more scones to a table that had already plowed through their supply of dainties, she tried to think of ways to stall. A short speech welcoming them to the tearoom, perhaps? Because that’s why they came out in the rain, to hear her talk about her job. They came to get laid, and that was not a likely prospect given the crowd. She could envision all that new business trickling out her doors and never coming back—the disappointed word of mouth Thimble was about to garner thanks to this almighty failure. She fussed around rearranging the scones on the women’s tray until a lady yanked one out from under her hand and bit into it emphatically. She stammered an apology and returned to the Basket of Estrogen, as she’d come to think of it. She withdrew the name Audrey and said it aloud. A cute brunette stood up and looked around awkwardly, unsure of what to do.
The chimes jangled furiously as the glass door was thrown open and then slammed shut against the torrent of rain that chased the newcomer indoors. He shook droplets from his hair and then whipped out a handkerchief and wiped them up. She mentally awarded him five points. Two for polite and three for gorgeous. She’d only just caught a glimpse of him, but he was about thirty and handsome as the devil—sandy hair and dimples and exactly what she’d sell her soul for at this moment—not for herself, for her business. Because Tea for Two had just pulled a man sure to set Bath talking for weeks to come. He stood there, converting oxygen into carbon dioxide and making a dozen women sure to return to the next Tea for Two and bring their friends just in hope of having a chance at him.
Evie seized his arm. An excited murmur swept the assembled tea drinkers, and all eyes were on them, “I’m so happy you could be here! Come along,” she said brightly.
With that, she deposited him across from Audrey who, for her part, looked as though she’d just won about nine million pounds sterling, “This is Audrey,” Evie began, “and you are?”
“Prince Leopold!” Audrey said.
“What?” Evie said blankly.
She still had her hand on his shoulder from presenting him to his tea companion. She bent, leaned around him and stared for a moment before his handsome features resolved into something very familiar. The same cocky grin she’d seen on the cover of celebrity magazines and gossip rags since she was a teen—the same rakish lock of sandy hair is falling across his perfect brow.
Fuck. It was a member of the sodding royal family, and she’d just pawned him off on a girl whose name she drew from a basket.
“Oh, shit. I mean, your majesty—welcome to Thimble Tea Room,” She said, flushing bright red.
“Only my father is a majesty. I’m only a royal highness, although my siblings—and probably his majesty—would say I’m a royal pain in the arse,” He grinned.
His was a pirate’s grin. She’d ogled it on tabloids in the grocery store since she was a kid. Sure, Jamie was the heir apparent and possibly the handsomest mortal there ever was, but for her money, Leopold, with the hint of mischief in his scoundrel smile had always been just what she liked. And here he was, in the flesh.
“Fuck. Could you stop being cute for one second?” She hissed.
Then she shut her eyes. Because maybe if she didn’t look at him, he’d forget about her and talk to the abundantly fortunate Audrey. But no, she had just made a total fool of herself, and it had to be handled. At least it would get the town talking, she reasoned.
“I apologize for my—rude reception of you. I was in the middle of a somewhat unsuccessful tea speed-dating event, and I thought you were a late arrival. I didn’t bother to check and see if you were a member of the ruling family. It wasn’t exactly expected, and clearly I have—no manners. But I’m an American, so that’s probably to be expected. Forgive me. Could I get you some tea?”
“If you haven’t anything stronger, which with a name like Thimble, I rather doubt—tea would be ace. Alas, I didn’t come to meet the lovely ladies of Bath. I was only seeking shelter from the downpour, but I’ll stay if you’ll have me. Sounds like a lark,” He said.
“Oh, you’re just heaven,” she blurted out, followed by, “oh, fuck. Just ignore me when I speak, all right?”
She bustled off to get the kettle and fill another teapot. The room was awash with excited talking as everyone wanted to meet Leopold and have a selfie with him and call their friends and ask if he’d tell them hello. The entire group was fawning over him when she returned, even Maeve. She jostled her way through the crowd and set the teapot down along with a selection of sandwiches. The prince was chatting with one of the ladies and smiling as the shutters of a dozen Smartphones snapped in his direction.
“Please excuse me,” she said, “I need to set the timer. Everyone to your seats, please. In eight minutes I’ll draw another name to choose the next partner!”
Evie grinned with satisfaction as people scurried—literally scurried—back to their spots in hope of being the one chosen next to sit across from a real live prince for tea and biscuits. She thought a few of them glanced at her nervously as if she would catch them misbehaving and disqualify them from the drawing. She definitely had a major advantage now because, in a sense, she controlled access to a member of the royal family. For the next eight minutes, she would enjoy more power than she had ever possessed. The thought made her laugh aloud, and people turned to look at her as if she’d gone mad, which she probably had, come to think of it.
Everyone kept up the quiet conversation until about the six-minute mark when the room went so quiet that Evie could hear the ticking of the timer. No fewer than seven women stared with naked desperation in the prince’s general direction. When the timer rang, Evie retrieved the Basket of Estrogen, and all eyes swung to her in anticipation.
“First of all, before I select a name, I’d like to thank the Prince for joining us today to kick off what I plan to make a monthly event at Thimble—the Tea for Two speed dating evening. It certainly makes the tea party even more special, although I’d also like to thank each and every one of you for coming out in this dreadful weather to have a cup of tea and have a chance at love. Now, to add a bit of fun, I think I’ll ask Prince Leopold if he’d care to draw the name himself!” she said.
The prince came to join her, and she was struck by how tall he was, how gorgeous. He smelled good. She could be forgiven, she expected, for sniffing the prince. It was unlikely she’d ever be this close to royalty again so she might as well get a good whiff of what seemed to be a fine combination of fresh air, leather and some light spicy note that smelled expensive. Probably bespoke cologne, she thought.
“I wish I could stay on and sit with each of you for a time, but now the rain’s lessened, I must be on my way. Thank you for your hospitality,” he said.
He dropped a card into her Basket of Estrogen and winked at her. He actually winked. She would have rolled her eyes at such a corny gesture if he weren’t so absurdly devastating. He made winking look sexy and promising. She bit her lip. Leaning in, she whispered to him.
“Now you’re leaving I expect this event is wrapping up. You have to let me buy you a pint to thank you,”
He shrugged, “If you like. I reckon I’m stranded here until morning…long story. I’ll drop in at the Saracen’s Head…they used to have a lamb shank pie when I was a lad. I still dream of it.”
The low warmth of his voice as he had whispered back to her made Evie Bartlett wish heartily for the first and last time that she was, herself, a lamb shank pie. Nodding dumbly, she watched as he posed for a last selfie and departed. She drew a name; they switched up seats, but all anyone spoke of was the prince. Audrey pulled her aside to tell her she’d tweeted a picture of the prince to let everyone know this Tea for Two event was the greatest surprise ever to hit the sleepy old town of Bath. She showed the photo to Evie with its caption of, Is it a Greek god in an old Roman town? No, just Prince Leopold dropping in at Tea for Two speed dating @ThimbleTeaRoom!
This was going to be gangbusters for business. Evie dropped into her c
hair, a smile on her face. Word would get out that an actual prince had popped in, possibly looking for a princess of his own. She would sell tea on this for months. Maybe years. She should get someone to tag her in these photos on social media so she could make a collage and have it framed, she thought, the marketing wheels already spinning in her eager brain. Oddly, though, instead of wishing the event could go on forever so she could listen to the congratulations of the excited crowd, Evie wished they’d all go the hell home to their K-cups and Netflix so she could get to the Saracen’s Head.
It was another hour before the last ladies thanked her for hosting the event and raved about the thrill of meeting a royal, “Now it’s known that the royal family frequents your shop, I expect you’ll have a lot of eager young ladies stopping by!” Charlotte said with a wink.
Evie couldn’t help thinking that it didn’t really compare to the wink Leopold had given her. Prince Leopold, she corrected herself. As in, the son of a sitting monarch, a man who could have absolutely no interest in her as anything but an amusing anecdote to tell his polo buddies or hunting buddies or whatever sort of buddies royalty had. She didn’t even bother with the dishes. She just left them on the counter, used her reflection in the toaster to apply more eyeliner and took off for the pub.
He was sitting at the bar. Of course, he was. He was laughing and being friendly with the bartender, a portly man who seemed far more at ease with a prince than she had been in her shop. And there she’d had the home court advantage; she realized too late as she found herself inside a historic pub with a royal and wholly out of her element. Hell, until two years ago, her element had been working retail outside Atlanta. Now she was about to buy a Prince a drink.
“Did they still serve the lamb stew you’ve been dreaming of?” she asked, trying to be witty and failing.
“Lamb shank pie with mash and, yes, it was as I had remembered,”
“So your fantasy lamb shank is intact. No disappointment?”
“It was even better than I recalled. Would you like me to order you one?”
“No, thanks. I had a scone,” she said, wondering where she was coming up with these fabulously clever conversational skills. I had a scone would go down in history as the stupidest thing anyone ever said to a hot as hell real live English prince. Evie sat down on a stool beside him and smiled weakly.
“I’m Evelyn Bartlett. I don’t think I had the presence of mind to introduce myself at the tea shop,” she said.
“No, you just awarded me to Audrey like I was the Christmas goose,” he said.
“The what?”
“The Christmas goose. It’s a prize for winning—never mind. I suppose it’s one of those traditions that doesn’t quite translate for Americans,” he said.
“For my part, I thought Audrey looked like she’d won the lottery,” Evie admitted.
“Congratulations, you’ve won a prince? He’s not the main one or even the second one, but he’s still a part of the bloodline,” Leopold said, taking a drink of his pint.
“I don’t think anyone minded which prince you were. It was you they liked,” Evie said.
“Not quite. It was the crown, or rather the tantalizing proximity to the crown that appealed to them. The celebrity shine,” Leopold said, “and I’m Leo, by the way. I agree that we weren’t properly introduced.”
“Not my fault. Don’t you people cart around a grand duke or something to announce your arrival properly?”
“Sadly, no. They only issue grand dukes to reigning monarchs. There aren’t that many to go around. The lot of us have to speak for ourselves, though my dad has threatened to have me muzzled a time or two if I didn’t curb my tongue,” he said.
“I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you at first. I was caught up in this event I was hosting, and I didn’t pay any attention to who you were. I just knew that karma had thrown me a lifeline because I’d run out of men,” she said, “so I seized a passerby.”
“You did seem very enthusiastic about my arrival. Little did I know that it had nothing to do with my pedigree and everything to do with my manhood,” he said.
“No offense, but I would’ve thrown a ticker tape parade for anyone who came through that door with a Y-chromosome,” she said.
“Quite flattering. So, about that pint you owe me?”
“I owe you more than that, and you know it. Your surprise entrance could be the making of my shop. Nothing against pop culture, but the coffee obsession is killing my bottom line. Now you showed up, and money can’t buy that kind of advertising. Every woman in Somerset is going to be gagging for a seat at Tea for Two next month! Not to mention dropping in just to get a scone and see if any of my prince buddies is hanging out, drinking tea and cruising for chicks,”
“Cruising for chicks?”
“Looking for a woman,” she clarified.
“On the pull,” he corrected, accepting a new pint from the bartender, “so what brings an American to Bath?”
“My great aunt died and left me a tea room. She married an Englishman back in the sixties, and he died young, and she enjoyed her widowhood immensely. Had a teashop and a bakery and traveled all around. My mom and I were her only relatives, and she brought me over here for summers a couple of times when I was growing up,”
“So you fancied it here?”
“Who wouldn’t fall in love with this place?” she asked, “Look at it. Old and gorgeous, quaintly old-fashioned. When I was a kid, it felt like the safest, prettiest place in the world!”
“Where did you come from originally?”
“Georgia,” she said, taking a drink of her pint and wrinkling her nose a little at the bitterness.
Leo gestured to the bartender who swiftly replaced her unwanted pint with another drink, “So, did you like it there?”
“No, it sucked,” she said.
“You’re very direct, aren’t you,” Leopold said.
“Yeah. Well, it did suck. My mom was on her own and worked two jobs to take care of me. We didn’t starve but it wasn’t awesome either. If it hadn’t been for Auntie Bridget sending Christmas presents--she sent us each a pair of boots every year, pretty ones made out of leather, and so Mom and I always had nice shoes, and a book each. If you knew you were getting new shoes and a book chosen just for you, it was something to look forward to, you know? Like it wasn’t all bad, even though other kids were going to Disney or on a ski trip or to a huge family dinner over Christmas, and I’d be walking the neighbor’s dog and rubbing Ben-Gay on her bad knee while Mom worked—“ she said.
Evie looked down and realized she’d drained her cocktail. That surely would account for the muzzy, warm feeling that stole over her, the way her fingertips tingled and her eyelids felt heavy. She kept blinking them—no, batting them. She was batting her eyelashes at the man. Whatever was in that drink must’ve been strong. She vowed not to touch another drop or else she’d be asking the prince to autograph her panties.
“That sounds…ah, what to say?” Leo scrubbed his hands over his face and shook his head, “it isn’t as if I can be empathetic. I had no childhood of deprivation, quite the opposite, in fact. I had a pony for Christmas. Two Christmases, in fact, because I got a larger horse when I’d outgrown the pony,” he said.
“Did you have rich-boy hardships, though? Had to have your older brother’s hand me down pony or something?” she said.
“No, alas, it was my own, and I had even got to choose it myself at Pemmy’s horse farm in Kentucky. See—I’ve been to the States and seen it properly, not only New York City. I’ve been to the south and eaten that spicy shredded meat butty—“
“Barbecue sandwich?”
“Yes, that’s it,” he grimaced.
“Not a fan? I guess it’s like Guinness…you either like it or you don’t.”
“Correction: you either appreciate Guinness, or you’re completely wrong.”
“So why did you get me another drink?”
“Ther
e’s no reason for you to suffer, despite your obvious wrongheadedness,” he said.
“So what’s it like being part of the hereditary monarchy?”
“It’s nice; I won’t take the piss on that one. I went to top schools, took holidays to all the smart places, had my pick of military commissions…”
“Wait, military commissions? Dude, I googled you, and you’re in the Coast Guard. That isn’t exactly top secret level, 007 stuff,” she said.
“I chose the Maritime Services because it suits me,” he said.
“You like to rescue kittens who fall in the pond? Listen, I’m sure it’s a necessary job, but I don’t get why someone in your position wouldn’t go for something more prestigious.”
“You’re absolutely correct. You don’t get it at all. I knew I wanted to fly choppers, but I didn’t want to go to Afghanistan or Syria or any of the other places we seem to occupy to protect our petroleum interests. I wanted to do something concrete and helpful,” Leo said.
“While flying a helicopter.”
“Well, I’m not pretending I’m a surgeon or the like. I enjoy my work, just as you seem to like yours,” he said.
“Fair enough. So if you were to become king, what would your king name be?”
“Leopold…?” he said, mystified.
“No, I mean like there was Vlad the Impaler and Catherine the Great and Ivan the Terrible and William the Conqueror and…I guess that’s all the ones I could think of. If it were me, I’d be Evie the Baker.”
“Sounds intimidating. Sure to strike terror in the hearts of your enemies. Don’t annoy the British…that Evie the Baker is a dangerous woman!” he said.
“Never underestimate a woman with a whisk,” she said, “how about you?”
“Let’s see. I reckon my brother will be known as King James the Dissolute unless somehow he settles down and becomes James the Reformed. If it were to fall to Edward, he would be Edward the Responsible. Lizzy—ah, God help us all—Lizzy the Impulsive. Beatrice the Subversive, Alistair the Altruistic, Gigi the Ferocious…this is fun!”
The Royal Rake (Royal Romances Book 3) Page 2
