Page 65 of The Princess and the Rogue

He had to get a hold of himself. The private world they’d created at the Tricorn had been a temporary illusion. This was the reality. She was public property; he had to share her with the world.

He frowned, struck by a sudden revelation. Good God, was this what it felt like to bemarried? Was sharing your partner only made bearable by the knowledgethat you were the one who got to take her home? The only one to receive her private smiles. The only one who got to see her naked. Did husbands savor those private moments, like a dragon hoarding treasure, just so they could endure evenings like these?

He’d never know. He was here for her protection, to do his duty.

That was all.

Chapter 31.

“Princess, may I introduce the Earl and Countess of Ware, Benedict and Georgiana Wylde.”

Anya tried to ignore the unnerving effect of Wolff’s hovering presence at her side and extended her hand to the couple who’d come over to greet them. “Delighted.”

The pretty brown-haired woman sent her a friendly smile which put Anya instantly at ease. “Please. It’s Georgie and Benedict. We really don’t stand on ceremony.”

Anya returned the smile. “Neither do I, usually. Please call me Anya.”

She’d seen Benedict Wylde often over the past week as he’d patrolled the house and gardens. He was tall and handsome, with brown eyes and hair a few shades lighter than Wolff’s. She’d thought him quite lofty and fearsome, but the softening of his features whenever he happened to glance at his wife made her revisit that opinion.

“Georgie runs Caversteed Shipping,” Wylde said.“It’s quite the international enterprise.” His expression of unashamed pride made Anya envious. “Her ships trade with Russia all the time. I’m sure she’s dying to discuss such boring details as international tariffs and shipping routes with you.” There was a teasing chuckle in his voice.

His wife elbowed him playfully in the ribs. “Benedict! You make me sound like the dullest woman in the room!”

He raised his brows with a chuckle. “Never. I love it when you talk commerce. It makes me feel more intelligent just by association. And it might not be a bad idea to look into expanding your trade in Russian spirits. I tried some of the vodka Seb trialed at the Tricorn last week, and while I can’t see it ever being more popular than our native gin, there might be a market here if you import it.”

“As a matter of fact,” Anya said, “my family have all sorts of commercial interests back in Russia. I actuallyowna vodka distillery.”

She felt, rather than saw, Wolff stiffen at her side, and suppressed a snort of laughter. She wondered if he was remembering her comments the night they drank together. She’d admitted to knowing a little about the stuff. He probably wanted to strangle her right now.

The thought brought a disproportionate amount of delight. For some reason, annoying Wolff was the most enjoyable thing ever.

She turned her head and slid him a teasing smile and enjoyed the way his eyes narrowed with the promise of retribution. Her stomach flipped. If he wanted to punish her, he’d have to get her alone. And she wanted that more than anything.

Georgie Wylde’s grey eyes widened in interest. “You do? That is fascinating. I do hope you’ll come and visit my warehouse sometime. I’d love to get your opinion onthe quality of the Russian goods I’ve been importing. If you wouldn’t be too bored, that is,” she added quickly.

“It sounds very interesting. I’d love to come, thank you.” A warm glow settled in her chest at the olive branch of friendship the other woman was offering.

Another couple joined them; her second guard, Alex Harland, and a woman Anya assumed to be his wife. She was petite, with almost elfin features, and a smiling mischievous look about her. Anya liked her immediately. She looked like the kind of girl who would be a lot of fun.

Wolff shifted at her elbow. “And this is Earl Melton and his countess. Alexander and Emmeline Harland.”

“Alex and Emmy,” the girl said immediately. “Really, Seb, there’s no need to be so formal.” She turned back to Anya. “My grandmother, Camille, Comtesse de Rougemont, is good friends with the Dread Dowager Duchess.” She indicated a stylish older woman chatting with Dorothea across the room. “And my brother, Luc, is somewhere around here too, with his new wife, Sally. They just got married last month.”

Her gaze flicked to Anya’s tiara. Her eyes widened in appreciation and a smile spread over her face. “Those,” she said reverently, “are exceptionally fine diamonds.”

Her husband gave a little snort of amusement. “You would know, my love.”

She shot him a chiding glance and smiled back at Anya. “I’m a great lover of diamonds.”

“And emeralds and rubies and, well, most jewels in general, really,” her husband finished drily.

Benedict and Georgie both chuckled. Alex pulled his wife closer to his side and tucked a tendril of her hair behind her ear in an affectionate, unconscious gesture. “Do try to recall your promise, darling. What do we do with jewels?”

Emmy rolled her eyes. “We look but we don’t touch,’” she parroted, in the flat tone of one who’d repeated the phrasead infinitum.

Alex smiled down at her. “Exactly.”

She let out a dissatisfied sigh. “Is it from Bridge & Rundell? It looks like their work.” She sent a sideways glare at her husband. “I haven’t been there in ages. I’m not allowed within thirty paces of the place.”

---