Page 11 of A Foreign Crown
“A prince!” Lady Mallory’s whole demeanor changed. “From that lovely nation Oldenburg. Well, that is providential.” She adjusted her skirts and straightened in her seat, patting her hair. “I remember when your family visited last year. You were all the talk. A prince. Well, isn’t this lovely?” She looked at Lady Aribella and then back at Layton. “And we’re all going to St. James’s?”
“You are going there as well, then?” Layton looked at Lady Aribella, who nodded hesitantly. She wasn’t forthcoming with any other details. “Are you family of the Crown?”
“Oh, heavens no. We come to serve the Crown. It is our highest honor.” Lady Mallory folded her hands in her lap.
Layton studied them both. Well dressed, for servants. And why were they called Lady? Those attending his mother were not called by the same titles as the nobility in this country. He knew precious little about women attendants for the Crown. Perhaps in England their customs were different. A bitter disappointment, much stronger than he thought was merited by the limited knowledge he had of Lady Aribella and Lady Mallory, crept inside him and dimmed his anticipated enjoyment. So he was to travel to London in the presence of beautiful servant women instead of noblewomen. What did it signify, since he had not traveled to England to talk to women but to petition the King for assistance for his country? Women were completely outside the point of his purpose. No matter that they were trapped in a carriage with him for many hours yet and that they were lovely, particularly Lady Aribella, whose eyes grew lovelier by the moment and watched him as though he held wonderful secrets.
Chapter Six
Aribella did not know whatto think of her rescuer. She knew what shewantedto think. She wanted him to be a true hero. She found it hard to look away from such a face as his. His jawline was sharp, his nose distinguished, forceful; his eyes... she felt her face heat, but she couldn’t look away. His was everything she’d ever imagined a handsome face to be. Swallowing, trying to look anywhere else, to think of anything else, she knew her fascination was most obviously rooted in her great loneliness—in the solitary life she’d led, in her lack of any Season or, in fact, any eligible man to marry.
Besides Lord Bartholomew, she reminded herself. But that lord’s face was so distant in her thoughts with the powerful presence of this man to her front that she could not summon the tiniest recollection of what he looked like or the sound of his voice asking for a courtship.
She hadn’t responded to the request. She had not formed an alliance with anyone. She snorted, then looked up in alarm at her unladylike noise. She cleared her throat. “Excuse me.”
She wrapped the blanket closer around herself, her body trembling. She wanted to fall in love, get married, and for once not have the responsibility of her father and their whole estate on her shoulders. Could its occupants be taken care of and she herself find happiness? Her eyes welled with tears, and she looked away. How embarrassing, showing such emotion before strangers. She choked, her body shaking more violently. Her teeth chattered. “I—I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me...”
“You’re shaking. You’re cold. Of course you’re cold.” Prince Layton moved to the other side of the carriage. “Perhaps if I sat beside you...” He sat as close as he could with her blanket between them, then motioned for Lady Mallory to move closer.
Aribella could almost see her companion’s mind spinning in rejection of the thought, but to give her credit, Lady Mallory moved closer on Aribella’s other side.
Aribella’s small frame shook beside Prince Layton, and her teeth rattled so hard the movement ached inside her head.
“Brewer, could you hand us another blanket?” The prince moved closer. He tipped his head so she could see into his eyes. “May I put my arm around you?” A delicious smell of spices and something comforting filled the air between them.
She nodded. “Th-thank you.”
He draped another blanket across their laps and held her close. Suddenly just the thought of being so near brought a flush to her cheeks, cold or not.
She melted into him, the blankets bunched between them, and his strong arm encircling her sent warm waves through her. With time, the full-body shudders grew fewer, and the swaying of the carriage lulled Aribella into the drowsy, easy state of someone finally warm. Her head rolled from side to side and at last found a home on Prince Layton’s shoulder. She allowed herself one more delicious thought—the realization that she quite enjoyed her closeness to this stranger—before she drifted off to sleep.
The sounds of the carriage stopping awoke her slowly. She resisted awareness that broke in through her lovely sleep and snuggled closer to her companion, his shoulder ever so soft and inviting.
His head tilted for just a moment so that his cheek rested on the top of her hair, and then his chuckle jarred her fully awake. “Well now, I think it best we move inside.”
She gasped and whipped herself up too quickly. The world spun around her, and she raised a hand to cradle her head. “I’m terribly sorry.”
His face appeared in front of her dipped head—her attempt to hide. “Think nothing of it. I am relieved you seem to have warmed.” His face showed so much interest and admiration that she could hardly look away, but she must.
“We have arrived at St. James’s,” he said. “I’m unsure where you will be staying.”
“Oh.” She frowned and turned to her companion. “Do you know where the Queen is in residence?”
Lady Mallory had been quiet for much of their journey—at least, she hadn’t woken Aribella. Perhaps she’d been sleeping herself. “The other carriage had instructions to bring us here. If the Queen isn’t here, she’ll send for us.”
Before they could alight, the front doors of the palace opened, and a line of soldiers exited. Their brilliant red coats and bright buckles were a magnificent sight Aribella would not soon forget. As soon as they lined the front of St. James’s and created a processional from the carriage to the palace, the front doors opened again, and Prince George himself stepped out at the top of the stairs.
Aribella sucked in a breath and eyed her companions.
Prince Layton nodded. “Is that the prince?”
Lady Mallory sniffed. “It is indeed.” She turned to Aribella. “If you wish to position yourself well, he’s the one to impress.”
Then a pair of footmen bowed smartly and opened up the carriage doors.
Prince Layton straightened his jacket and ran a hand through his hair. “This will have to do, I’m afraid.”
Trumpets blared in welcome, and Prince George was joined by two of his brothers, the royal dukes. They made an impressive picture.
