Page 32 of The Duke's Virgin

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Puttingon makeup was one of my banes in life. I rarely bothered with more than mascara and lip gloss unless it was one of my mother’s more formal events, and for that, I usually went with the smoky eye I’d finally perfected after spending anentireafternoon practicing and watching YouTube tutorials.

But that was a bit much for a dinner with members of royalty. All those articles about the makeup that Meghan Markle and Kate Middleton wore to their weddings might have been a surprise to a lot of Americans, but not to me. There weren’t as many strict rules on the various royals throughout Europe as there seemed to be in England, but there was always an emphasis onnatural.

I didn’tmindthat, really, but it was a hell of a lot easier for me to achievenaturalif I just didn’twearany makeup, but I knew better than that.

After twenty minutes I’d never get back, I swiped a neutral pinkish lipstick over my lips and stood back to check my reflection out.

“Good enough,” I pronounced, then double-checked to make sure there weren’t any stray specks of powder, bronzer, or eyeshadow on my chest.

Ten minutes after that, I had my dress on and gave my hair one more check, then put the earrings on and slid the ring onto my right middle finger. I was about to head out the door when I stopped and turned around, hurrying back into the bathroom to grab the lipstick and dump it in the little black clutch Ana had brought to my room earlier.

I opened the door in time to see Gustave approaching. He gave an approving smile. “The helicopter will be here in a few moments, Miss Stacia.”

“Thank you, Gustave.”

“Is your luggage packed for your flight home?”

I might have imagined it, but I thought I caught a glimpse of a hopeful gleam in his eye. Like he hoped I’d sayno, so he could go in and organize my luggage and the contents down to the very last USB cord. “I have it all ready.” I gave him a brilliant smile. “All that’s left is my overnight bag.”

“Wonderful.” His polite smile never dimmed. “I’ll have it all transferred down. I checked with Ann. She said we’ll be laundering your dress from tonight and sending it to you once you’re back in the states.”

I opened my mouth to tell him I’d told Ann it wasn’t necessary—I’d left room in the carry-on bag’s concealed garment bag—but at the gleam in his eye, decided not to bother. What was the point? They’d clean the dress, the shoes if needed, and everything would be shipped back, ready to wear the next time. And I wouldn’t have to argue with Gustave.

Not that I’d win anyway.

“Of course.”

He gestured for me to precede him down the hall, and as we walked, he gave me an update on my trip the next day, letting me know he’d already arranged my ride to the airport, taken care of checking me in, then giving details about the weather throughout the entire journey.

“Should I let your parents know when you’ll be arriving in New York?” he offered as we reached the hall leading toward the grand staircase.

“No.” I managed not to blurt the word out. “I let them know before I left, so they’re aware, but they have plans tomorrow night. I don’t want them to feel obligated to change things because of my trip.”

They wouldn’t, but if I was lucky, they’d forgotten, and I’d have a few more days of peace before my guilt drove me to let them know I was home.

* * *

The castle cameinto view slowly, first hidden behind the terrain itself and a protective barrier of trees, particularly the large conifers that speared up into the sky. I caught glimpses of its pale exterior through the window and edged closer in hopes of a better view.

“You haven’t been to Luxembourg before, have you?”

My uncle’s voice pricked my awareness, and I gave him an embarrassed smile and slid back onto the seat. “No, Uncle. I haven’t.”

“It’s a lovely country.” He nodded to the window. “Kasteel Berg is beautiful. We’ll make sure you get a tour while we’re here.”

I’d done some mad Googling on the flight, so I knew he was referring to Castle Berg, the home of the Grand Duchy. I hadn’t bothered clicking on any of the links about the family, though. I knew all too well how easy it was for thewrongsort of information to get out there, and I’d rather form my own opinions on the people I’d meet tonight. “Thank you, Uncle. That would be wonderful.”

He nodded and turned his attention back to Aeric.

They’d been discussing trade—textiles and technology, mostly—almost since takeoff, while Aunt Valentina had dropped bits and pieces about the Prince and Princess of Luxembourg and the upcoming wedding. That discussion had segued into the topic of Princess Katrina of Liechtenstein, and then Princess Regan and Prince Sebastian, the Hereditary Prince.

Her eyes gleamed with fascination as she talked about Regan, the woman who’d been dubbed the Broadway Princess by American media.

“I’ve only met with her a few times, but hopefully, we can talk more tonight. I’m fascinated by the theatre project she’s building in Liechtenstein.”

I nodded at her but kept my eyes on the window as we traversed a bend and came to a drive.

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