Page 223 of Ten Lords for the Holidays

Eliana jabbed an elbow into her companion’s side, and the older woman gave her a serene smile.

“I’ll wave at all your friends,” Hetty said, a pleasant note of warning in her voice.

Eliana blew out an annoyed breath. Her gloved fingers twisted tightly together, hidden in the warm recess of her ermine fur muff. She would endure this ride, bid “Count Nikolai” farewell, and then do her utmost to steer clear of Prince Sebastian for the rest of her life.

“Is it because of Lady Peony?” she asked the prince as he turned the sleigh down Rotten Row. “Is that why you perpetrated this lie?”

He glanced down at her, his eyes a paler blue than the sunlit sky above. “Only inasmuch as I knew Prince Sebastian would not be welcome at the Midwinter Masque, and I wanted to attend.”

“So you could trick and entrap unsuspecting ladies.” She did not blunt the edge of bitterness in her tone.

“I wanted to meet you,” he said, the honesty in his voice taking her aback. “And I knew Miss Eliana Banning would never pass the time of day with the Ice Prince.”

Hetty let out a little sigh, and Eliana was tempted to elbow her again.

“You are correct,” she said to the prince. “I cannot condone what you did to my friend. She is only now beginning to recover from the heartbreak, and you damaged her prospects terribly.”

He set his jaw, and did not speak.

To either side, the sun glittered off the snowy blanket covering the grounds. The bare tree branches were edged with diamonds. A few tracks from other sleighs and the pockmarks of bootsteps marred the path, but overall the park was very quiet. For several moments, there was nothing but the sound of the sleigh runners hushing through the snow.

“I regret that things fell out so badly between Lady Peony and myself,” he finally said.

Eliana’s anger flared once more. “Regret? You should feel far more than that, your highness. You should be ashamed and deeply remorseful. Indeed, you are well named, Ice Prince.”

“Do you think so?” There was steel in his voice. “Did you find me so cold, last night?”

Oh, unfair. Despite herself, the memory of their kiss sparked through her.

“You were playing a part,” she replied, trying to believe her own words.

“No. Last night I was myself, Sebastian Nikolai. It is all other days that I am playing a role.” There was a depth of weariness in his voice that moved her, despite her irritation.

For a fleeting moment, she imagined how it must be, to always wear the mantle of a prince, an unwilling disguise few people cared to see beyond.

Last night, beyond their flirtation, Eliana had felt a true connection with Count Nikolai. Had he felt it too? He must have, for he’d risked his disguise to see her again

A cloud moved over the sun, and the air cooled. Another sleigh passed them, the laughter of the occupants ringing through the air.

Eliana did not feel like laughing. Weeping, perhaps, for what she’d glimpsed. For what could never be. Even if she’d seen the true Sebastian last night, that was only part of the man. The rest was still the Ice Prince, who had abandoned Lady Peony and thought nothing of deceiving Eliana. Such a man was not the kind of person she could imagine courting her, let alone sharing a life with.

“Turn around,” she said, her throat tight. “I’m ready to go home.”

* * *

Sebastian kept his emotions clamped down as he turned the sleigh past the iced-over water of the Serpentine. His experiment was at an end, and it was abundantly clear Miss Eliana wanted nothing more to do with him.

Whatever connection he’d felt between them was gone, melted away as the snow would soon melt, to become just a damp memory of a single evening. He glanced at the white-laced trees, the frozen water boasting several skaters, the unbearably bright sunshine. Increasingly, it seemed time for him to leave London.

The thick silence that had fallen around them was broken by a shrill scream, followed by a woman’s panicked cry.

“Help! Please help!”

“There.” Eliana pointed to the bank, where a woman was waving wildly at them. Beyond her, a short distance out in the Serpentine, a small figure struggled.

“A child,” Mistress Hetty gasped. “Fallen through the ice.”

At the first cry, Sebastian had already turned the horse and slapped the reins. The snow churned under the mare’s hooves as they raced to the water’s edge. There were places where the Serpentine was not deep, but here, at the bend, it would be well over Sebastian’s head.

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