A Royal Kiss & Tell

by Julia London

  Leo was surprised and relieved by the tiny bit of charity from her. Why she’d done it, he wasn’t certain, and he glanced at her questioningly.

  She returned a faint smile.

  “I am honored to be called your friend, Lady Caroline,” Mr. Morley said, grinning like a lad. “Mr. Chartier, how do you do?”

  Leo nodded.

  “Are you a Londoner, then?” Mr. Morley asked as the two ladies Leo had seen earlier arrived at his side, each of them carrying a small cake.

  “At present,” Leo said. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, but if you will excuse me, I’m in a bit of a rush. Good day to you,” he said, and touching the brim of his hat, he turned to leave.

  “Good day, Mr. Chartier!” Lady Caroline called in a singsong voice after him.

  He could feel Lady Caroline’s gaze on his back, and he swore he could hear her laughter. Impudent woman. Impudent, irreverent, beautiful woman. Impudent, irreverent, beautiful, enticing woman.

  With a mouth he would very much like to kiss into submission.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  A crate of squawking chickens delivered to the Clarendon Hotel has upset the genteel patrons to the point of complaint. The chickens were a gift for a prince of a fellow from a Humble admirer in Lancashire. It has been said that the prince is so in search of good poultry that he took it upon himself to visit the Leadenhall market. Perhaps the prince might endeavor to raise his own perfect poultry in the ruins of Herstmonceux Castle.

  A recent encounter at Gunter’s Tea Shop between a gentleman whose debts have been questioned and the gentleman who questioned them, was devoid of the dictates of polite society and resulted in both gentlemen being ejected from the premises. This serves as a solemn reminder that one must always bow to an acquaintance, even if that acquaintance is one’s enemy.

  —Honeycutt’s Gazette of Fashion and

  Domesticity for Ladies

  CAROLINE WAS FEELING her old self again. The trip to Leadenhall, which Beck was adamant she not attempt, had done her some good after all. She hadn’t meant to go along, she hadn’t wanted to go along—she could think of nothing less attractive than a meat market. But Mr. Morley and his sisters had called, and Caroline had been desperate to escape them, and had said that she must accompany the new maid to Leadenhall, which she was certain would do the trick. Alas, much to her dismay, Mr. Morley said he would be delighted to accompany her as well, and turning to his sisters, he’d asked if they didn’t both need some beef sent home?

  The day had been truly exhausting, physically, as she was still recovering, and also emotionally, as she found it taxing to be demure for such long stretches of time. But in the end, Caroline was very pleased that her legs had not lost their usefulness after all. Indications were that she would indeed dance again.

  The other happy result of her trip to Leadenhall was the remarkable sight of Prince Leopold prowling around as if he were some inspector of birds. Not the poultry kind, either, as he maddeningly would have her believe.

  Caroline had seen him in conversation with Ann Marble. She’d only noticed it because she’d spotted Molly, the kitchen maid, wandering around by herself, and had looked around for Ann. She’d been so intrigued by the intimate little tête-à-tête that she’d stepped away from Mr. Morley and his sisters and slyly moved in the prince’s direction.

  She knew what those two were about, obviously. She knew the true nature of men, and she particularly knew the true nature of privileged men. He was a rake! The question was, what was she going to do about it?

  She wondered what Beck would say if he knew about this despicable affair. Caroline did not intend to tell him...at least not now. She had her reasons. For one, she didn’t want to see Ann dismissed. She was good around their house, and besides, from what Caroline had gleaned from Martha, the poor girl was alone in this world. Beck had said as much when he brought her into the house. “Russell didn’t want to keep her, and I’d not like to see a young woman put to the street,” he’d said with a grimace.

  But Caroline couldn’t allow this affair to continue. It would be a trifling thing to the prince, but it would ruin poor Ann. That was the thing Caroline had come to understand about men—their desire was so immediate, so intense, that they didn’t think of the consequences of what they were demanding. They thought of only the need. They didn’t see a person, really, but a feminine shape that appealed to them and their base instincts.

  She’d noticed this, really noticed this, after her debut. She’d always known she was attractive, but she hadn’t realized just how attractive until that night. She had basked in the attention and the compliments, had found it exhilarating. And subsequently, at every party, every soiree after that, she sought the same feeling—of being admired. Of being desired.

  But...it wasn’t long after that Caroline began to notice that the attention she gained was not particularly fulfilling. She knew what she looked like and how men looked at her. She began to understand that what attracted men to her was her near perfect shape, her face, her mouth, her hair...her exterior, in short. But they were not attracted to her.

  It was as she told Hollis the afternoon her friend had called to see how Caroline fared after her illness. “No one but you cares how I truly am,” she’d complained.

  “That is not true!” Hollis said. She was trying on Caroline’s latest gown and admiring herself in the mirror.

  Caroline was sitting on her chaise, staring listlessly out the window. “But it is. All anyone had to say was how I looked. ‘Oh dear, your hair, darling, can it be repaired?’ Or ‘your pallor is quite gray.’ Or ‘your dress is too loose, you must eat something!’”

  “All genuine concern, darling,” Hollis said. “Surely this gown was not loose on you. My God, I can scarcely breathe at all.”

  “But no one asked about me, Hollis. You were the only one to ask if I understood how close to death I’d come and how did it feel to be on the edge of dying.”

  Hollis paused to wrinkle her nose. “Well, that sounds positively dreadful when you put it like that. But I was curious, and if I can’t ask you, who might I ask?”

  “That’s precisely my point,” Caroline said. “You are very curious about me, and not the terror of my hair. Of course you can ask me those things, because we are very dear to each other. Do you see?”

  Hollis had laughed as she’d pulled her gown over her head. “I think you’ve a touch of fever yet, Caro.”

  She did not have a fever. She had an inability to articulate what she meant.

  It was her own fault, this feeling of disappointment. She’d made a sort of game with herself—how many gentlemen could she get to flock to her? Which of them would inquire after her interests? Or her thoughts about the trade agreement between Alucia and the United Kingdom? Or even something as illuminating as what age she’d been when her parents had died?

  But as the years had ticked by, Caroline realized there was something terribly wrong with her game—she continued to attract gentlemen to her, but the game had taken on a new urgency. She used the game as an excuse, to mask her fear, because Caroline didn’t really know what there was to like about her. What if she discovered she wasn’t as pretty on the inside as she was on the outside? What if all her ugliness was tucked away, and would spring free if someone got too close? What if she was completely empty on the inside, and all that she had to offer this world was her fine looks?

  Fortunately, Caroline had the luxury of wealth and privilege to play her game and she didn’t have to delve too deeply into the answers. But Ann had no such privilege, and Caroline meant to protect her.

  She needed to think how best to deal with the knowledge of the prince’s affair, and until she had determined what to do, she would hold on to this morsel of news and do her level best to keep him from preying on other maids.

  He was a rake. A handsome, charming, rake—the most dangerous
of them all.

  * * *

  THE WEEK AFTER her visit to Leadenhall, Caroline felt up to accepting an invitation to the home of Lady Priscilla Farrington. Caroline had known Priscilla for an age. She’d married quite young, had three children in quick succession, then watched her husband increase the Farrington holdings with the import of cotton. He’d recently been appointed to the House of Lords.

  Caroline had always enjoyed Priscilla’s company. She was jovial and quick with a laugh. She had a growing rivalry with Lady Pennybacker, whose husband had likewise received his seat in the Lords.

  Priscilla was keen to have Caroline design her a gown, because Lady Pennybacker would not have one. During her convalescence, Caroline had made a pattern for a gown and needed to fit it to Priscilla’s robust frame.

  When she arrived, she was shown to a salon where she was instantly greeted by four small dogs, all of them eager for a pat on the head. Priscilla was lounging on a chaise with yet another dog. The ornate room looked and smelled a bit like a kennel.

  “Darling!” Priscilla trilled, waving Caroline over as the footman followed her, carrying the box with the muslin pattern of the gown. “How well you look! You’re recovered from the seasickness, are you? Oh, but you’re terribly thin.”

  “A temporary condition,” Caroline assured her. “But I am fully recovered.” She made her way through the small beasts and leaned over to kiss Priscilla’s cheek. She took a seat on a settee across from Priscilla. One of the dogs hopped up, its paws on Caroline’s lap. She carefully pushed it away. It hopped up again.

  “You must tell me everything!” Priscilla said. “But not yet! Felicity Hancock and Katherine Maugham are coming to tea.”

  Priscilla had not mentioned this fact in the delivered invitation. Katherine Maugham had been very keen to secure an offer of marriage from Prince Sebastian and had not yet forgiven Eliza for getting the offer she’d coveted. Caroline, Eliza and Hollis called her the Peacock behind her back.

  “How delightful,” Caroline said, and pushed the dog away once more. But the dog was not to be bested in this, and hopped up and climbed onto Caroline’s lap, circled around, and settled in for tea.

  “Is this new?” Caroline asked, looking down at the carpet.

  “It is! It was made specially in Belgium and delivered to us just last week. Tom has in mind to hire more servants, too, did I tell you? But only foreign ones. Foreign girls are far better than our domestics, don’t you think?”

  Caroline was not pressed to answer that ridiculous question, because a footman walked in at that moment and announced the arrival of the two ladies. Lady Katherine swept in like a stage actress, determined to be noticed first...until she saw Caroline. She slowed her step, blinking in Caroline’s direction. Felicity Hancock stumbled in behind the Peacock, tripping over the edge of the new Belgian carpet.

  Caroline pushed the dog from her lap and stood to greet the ladies. “What a pleasure!” she trilled, holding out her arms to both women.

  “Lady Caroline, you have returned to us,” the Peacock said. “I thought surely you’d remain attached to the side of your very dear friend. I feared we’d not see you again. Didn’t I say so, Felicity?”

  “Who do you mean?” Caroline asked sweetly. “The duchess and future queen of Alucia? Oh, I’ll see her soon enough. I intend to return in the spring. I can call on her anytime I like, you know.”

  “Another voyage, really?” Priscilla asked. “But Tom said it made you so dreadfully ill. Very near death, he said.”

  “It wasn’t quite as bad as that, but even so.”

  “I want to hear every word,” Felicity said eagerly, and settled in a cloud of blue on the settee beside Caroline. “Was it as wonderful as Honeycutt’s Gazette made it seem?”

  “Every bit and even more,” Caroline said sincerely. It was hard to relate just how beautiful and amazing the wedding had been in words or song or painting or gossip gazettes.

  “Tell us, tell us!” Priscilla insisted as she waved at the footman to begin the tea service.

  Caroline was careful not to leave out a single detail. She told them how vast the palace, and how Eliza now had two ladies in waiting to tend to her. How the king and queen had bestowed jewels on her as they’d welcomed her into their royal family. How desperately in love Prince Sebastian was with her. Caroline made sure that every conceivable reason to envy Eliza was laid before the ladies and was rather pleased with her effort in the end.

  “I still can’t believe Eliza Tricklebank should find herself married to a prince,” Priscilla said, her voice full of wonder. “Eliza Tricklebank of all people.”

  “Why not Eliza Tricklebank?” Caroline protested. “She is the best person I know.”

  “Because it wasn’t you, Caroline. If you ask me, you are far more suited to such a match than she.”

  Well, that was obviously true. But Eliza deserved it far more than Caroline ever would. She smiled and shrugged lightly. “Fate has a way of putting us in the right place.”

  “Doesn’t it,” Katherine said slyly. “Speaking of the great hands of fate...what of Prince Leopold? Did you catch his eye?”

  Priscilla and Felicity tittered.

  “Oh, I’m certain I did,” Caroline said nonchalantly, feeling a slight flush in her cheeks, remembering how intent his eyes had been on her at Leadenhall. She’d actually felt a spark of excitement standing there in the midst of all that meat. “Frankly, I found him rather tedious.”

  “Really!” Katherine put down her teacup. “I fully expected you’d come back with tales of his slavish devotion to you.”

  “Why ever would you think that?”

  “Well...because you said so, darling,” Priscilla said gently. “Remember? You said he was quite taken with you and you fretted that you’d have to fend him off when there were so many other gentlemen with whom to acquaint yourself while in Helenamar.”

  The flush in Caroline’s cheeks was heating her skin. Sometimes, she was too confident. She did indeed recall saying something very much like that one evening after one too many glasses of wine. “I never said I’d have to fend him off,” she scoffed.

  “You did,” Felicity said. “You even demonstrated pushing him away,” she said, and pretended to push something away at chest height. “You clearly thought he’d be a bother.”

  Caroline wished for something to fan herself. Perhaps she could claim to have a touch of the fever yet. But it was pointless—she did have a tendency to boast. Beck said she was filled with her own sense of grandeur. And it was true that before she’d sailed to Alucia, she’d been extraordinarily confident that the prince would be attracted to her. But he wasn’t the least attracted to her and now she couldn’t help but wonder if she was losing her charm. She was six and twenty, creeping toward the age of spinsterhood, and that handsome prince was more attracted to her maid than her.

  “What happened?” Katherine asked with far too much joy to suit Caroline.

  “I thought him tedious, that’s all. And besides, his formal engagement to a Weslorian heiress will be announced by the end of summer. It’s been arranged.”

  All three ladies stopped tittering and stared at her. “Really?” Felicity asked, incredulous. “Arranged? But...but I’ve heard he’s been in London sowing his oats.”

  “Of course he is sowing his oats,” Priscilla scoffed. “Everyone is working to gain an introduction. And he’s far from home—he can do what he likes.”

  “But...he and Mr. Frame called on a brothel just this week!” Felicity whispered loudly. “I heard that he took the woman with him.”

  Caroline jerked her gaze to Felicity. “I beg your pardon, he did what?”

  “Took her,” Felicity said. “He left the establishment with the...woman.”

  “Took her where?” Katherine asked.

  “You know,” Felicity said, her face turning red. “To his
...castle, or what have you.”

  Caroline felt a sour twist in her belly. She thought him a rake, but that was despicable. “Are you certain, Felicity? You don’t suppose you misheard?”

  “Yes, I’m certain! Mr. Frame’s sister is a dear friend of mine, and she told me. She had quite a row with her brother about it, which threatens to ruin all of Christmas.”

  “We are months away from Christmas,” Katherine pointed out.

  “That’s how bad their row was.”

  Katherine looked at Caroline.

  Caroline wouldn’t give her the least bit of disappointment. “Well, I’m not terribly surprised. He’s a prince, and it goes without saying that he’ll soon be engaged, no matter his conduct. But if it were me, I’d not want my daughter anywhere near him.”

  “Not your daughter, but perhaps you?” Katherine asked with a devious laugh.

  “After the brothels and maids? Certainly not!” Caroline said primly.

  “The maids! What maids?” Priscilla exclaimed as she took the lid off the box and pulled out the pattern Caroline had made.

  She hadn’t meant to say that. She hadn’t meant to tell all the man’s secrets, particularly as it related to her house. She stood up and walked across the room to join Priscilla. “I’ve heard rumors that he has, from time to time, taken up with a housemaid here and there, that’s all.”

  “What house?” Priscilla asked, looking properly offended.

  “Oh, I don’t know, really.” Caroline unfurled the muslin pattern. “My point is that he’s a prince in name only. He’s a rake by any other name.”

  “But this is so damning,” Katherine said as she rose from her seat so that she might have a look at the pattern, too.

  Caroline did not miss the look that Katherine exchanged with Felicity. She didn’t like that look. It was rather judgmental. Of her? Or the prince? It hardly mattered—Prince Leopold was corrupting her maid, and Caroline was both irate and envious, and suddenly very tired, and she wanted nothing to do with him. Not much, anyway.