Page 92 of The Princess and the Rogue

Her eyebrows shot up, and Seb distinctly heard Dorothea gasp and Benedict snort. He chuckled. “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you all some other time.”

“You will indeed,” Dmitri growled from his shoulder.

“Next question.”

“All right. What’s her favorite book?”

Seb’s mind went blank. He and Anya had discussed many things, but her preference for literature hadn’t been one of them. He cast around and recalled the illustrated volume in his study. “I know she’s very fond of Russian fairy tales,” he hedged. “Especially ones that involve wolves and princesses.”

He couldn’t wait to recreate some ofthosein the privacy of their bridal bedchamber tonight.

Elizaveta narrowed her eyes, but seemed satisfied. “Close enough. Last question. When did you kiss for the first time?”

“Also the brothel. Haye’s in Covent Garden.” Seb ignored Dorothea’s grumble of disapproval and tilted his head up toward Benedict. “I think it’s only fair to point out that you, Benedict Wylde, once assured me that I’d never find a good woman to marry in a Covent Garden brothel. Take it back.”

“I stand corrected,” Ben shouted down. “I’m delighted to have been proved wrong.”

Seb nodded. “Any more questions?”

Elizaveta shook her head and stepped aside. “You may proceed.”

Seb arrived at the first landing to discover Georgie standing next to her husband.

“Did you know,” she said by way of opening, “that it’s about seventeen hundred miles from London to St. Petersburg?”

Seb blinked. “Is that my question?”

“No, it’s not your question, I just wondered if you knew. Benedict says you’re planning to take Anya there on your wedding trip. So if you sail at an average of five knots, it will take you around two weeks to get there by sea.”

Seb sent Benedict a confused glance, but his friend simply shrugged. He was, apparently, used to receiving this kind of unwanted nautical information from his better half.

“That’s, um, good to know,” Seb said. “I’ll bear it in mind. But if that’s not my question, what is?”

Georgie sent him a no-nonsense look. “My test is a mental one. A riddle. We need to make sure you’re clever enough to keep up with your wife. She’s very intelligent.”

“I know that.”

“Apart from the inexplicable lack of common sense she’s exhibited in choosingyouas a life partner,” Alex heckled from the landing above.

Seb sent him a poisonous glance. “Go on, then,” he prompted Georgie. “Let’s hear it.”

“What flies when it’s born, lies when it’s alive, and runs when it’s dead?”

Seb frowned. What flew? Birds? Musket balls? What lied? Men did, all the time. At least in his experience. And what ran when it was dead? Impossible. He scowled at a grinning Benedict.

“I’ll give you a hint,” Georgie whispered. “It’s cold. And there’s plenty of it in Russia.”

Seb’s brow cleared as the answer came to him. “Snow!”

“Yes! Well done.”

Benedict stepped forward. “Right. My turn. My test is one of strength. To make sure you’re strong enough to protect your future wife.” He braced his legs apart andcrossed his arms over his chest. “You have to lift me out of the way.”

Seb groaned. Benedict weighed at least the same as himself. He was all muscle. Still, it could have been worse; they could have made him wrestle Mickey.

He stepped forward, bent his knees, and wrapped his arms around Benedict’s waist. The fabric of his jacket stretched alarmingly across his back, and he heard an ominous ripping sound as the seams strained beneath his arms.

Bloody hell. He wasn’tdressedfor picking up grown men. He was dressed to marry the woman he loved. But what was a new jacket compared to a lifetime spent with Anya? Nothing at all. He’d burn every item in his wardrobe if necessary.

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