Page 39 of A Foreign Crown
He moved his feet in the patterns set by their lead couple, then shuffled down the middle of the line together with the princess. When he joined the end of the line, Princess Elizabeth smiled. “And this is why I enjoy these country dances. We have the time to get to know one another.”
He nodded. “Tell me, Princess. What do you most want?”
Her eyebrows raised; he’d surprised her. She seemed to flounder for a moment and then stood taller. “I know what I don’t want. I don’t want to be lonely.”
“And are you lonely?” His compassion grew.
She shrugged. “We have a large family. I’m always with people in the royal house—the staff, the servants, my sisters and brothers. But sometimes, yes, I am lonely.”
They joined hands, moving up the line one place as more took their turn and joined the end.
“What I want is someone to think of me,” the princess continued. “I want to be someone’s most important person.”
Layton considered her. Was he anyone’s most important person? No. His parents loved him. The citizens of his country respected him. Though he’d never considered such a thing before, the idea of a woman to think on him as the center of her world was becoming important and new, like the newness of spring.
“I understand that sentiment,” he said at last.
“I’d imagine you do. As royals, we share an understanding that others might not ever be able to see.”
He didn’t answer, but he wondered if his parents shared her view. Did they hope he found love in the house of anotherroyalfamily? Before his assignment to come to England, they had encouraged his connection with Angelique or one of the other ladies at home. She wasn’t a royal, but she came from a good family. Would they prefer he return with a connection to one of the princesses? Lady Aribella might be another acceptable choice in their eyes, though not royal.
He and Princess Elizabeth continued to move along the line, and he marveled at his new thought process. Why were ponderings of women and marriage suddenly the center of his thoughts?
He would be best served trying to get introductions to the men in the room who might be of influence to help guard his shores.
As they once again reached the top of the line and the music stopped, he held his arm to escort the princess back to her group. Perhaps he could spend time in a side room with some of the men who were most likely at cards.
He led the princess to her mother and bowed to each of the women. “And here I leave you to enjoy your moments while I unfortunately must be about matters of state.”
“But you will return?” Princess Mary pouted—she did that quite a lot—as she sidled up to him. Princess Elizabeth looked away.
“Most certainly.”
As he moved away, his steps picking up, he hoped not to come across anyone of his new acquaintance. He scooted along the back of the room, making his way to the door, nodding and bowing as he went.
As he at last made it to the end of the room, ready to leave and pass into what he hoped might lead to men and cards, a flurry of color stepped in front of him, surprising him so much he almost ran the lady down.
He reached out to steady her and realized even before he turned his gaze that he held Lady Aribella in his arms. “Oh, I do apologize, my lady.”
She lifted her gaze, and he watched with great thrill as the realization of who he was lit her face and then colored her cheeks. “I was... um... hello.”
“I’m glad you have come. I saw you earlier, but then I looked when the Queen arrived and didn’t see you with her.”
“No, they had us come in a separate carriage.”
“Do you have duties this evening?”
“I do, in a manner. But not all the time. I should be near the Queen in case I’m needed...”
Did she hope to spend more time with him? All thoughts of finding the men in the cardroom fell in priority in his mind, and he ignored the mental reminder of his purpose in the country, for how often would he have a moment to dance with Lady Aribella?
The music for a waltz began. “The timing of this dance could not be any more perfect.” He bowed. “Would you do me the honor of dancing this set with me?”
“I would love to.” She curtsied.
He led her to the floor, more excited than should be rationally acceptable to hold her in the dance.
She stood to his front, her wide eyes welcoming him closer, asking him to cradle her in his arms—or so he thought. He was drawn into them like he never had been before. His hand found her waist, the intimacy of that touch sending a protective thrill through his chest, disturbing the normal function of his heart. Her hand found his, and the other rested on his shoulder.
