Page 54 of A Foreign Crown
“And now I can never let you go.”
“Nor I you.” She stood on her toes to reach his mouth again.
He immediately obliged, this time with less hesitance, the softness of his mouth pressing and pulling and moving with more urgency until she knew she must stop or else faint at his feet. The world spun in a happy delight.
“Layton.”
He paused, kissing the tip of her nose once and then pulling her to his chest in a great, warm hug. “And now I cannot even apologize for my behavior, for I don’t know what to do with my new fascination. Your lips shall forever call to me for more. And everything about this moment feels sealed with fate. Have I come to England thinking I need naval assistance only to discover it was all part of a grander twist of fate to meet you?”
She shook her head in wonder. What man was this? She felt overwhelmed in such a glorious way that she didn’t think she’d ever forget this moment, nor did she want to. She planned to relive it for hours on end that night as she prepared herself for bed.
They stepped apart and made their way toward the entry of the house. A carriage arrived at the front of Carlton House, and Aribella would have suspected it was the equipage meant to return her and Prince Layton to St. James’s, except they hadn’t called for a carriage. She couldn’t have been more surprised when Lady Mallory stepped out. She looked around, not seeing them at first.
“Oh dear.” Aribella’s heart sank down to her feet as she stepped away, the realization of what she’d done sinking in. “What have we done?”
“Something incredibly wonderful, I hope.” His grin made her laugh, even though nothing was funny in that moment.
“But nothing’s been fixed. We still have our same problems, only now we’ve just complicated it all.”
“On the contrary, my beautiful Lady Aribella. Everything has become immediately much clearer.”
“How can you say that?”
They were interrupted by a shrill voice. “Oh, Lady Aribella!” Lady Mallory waved an excited hand in their direction.
“Perhaps we can meet in the park outside your window,” Layton said.
“Perhaps. Let’s hear what Lady Mallory is about, shall we?” She suspected it might be many days before she was free to do anything at all for herself.
When she and the prince approached Lady Mallory, Aribella noticed that her own trunks already rested on top of the carriage. “The Queen has asked that you return. And Prince Layton, you are asked to come pay a call to Princess Mary tomorrow. If you join us on our way back to the Queen’s house, Lady Aribella and I will drop you at St. James’s.”
Layton helped them both into the carriage, his hand lingering longer than was necessary with Aribella’s. If only he could secure her hand in all ways possible.
She sucked in a breath at her brazen thoughts and situated herself next to Lady Mallory so she and Layton would not need to share a bench.
Think, Aribella.She commanded her brain to function. Was she ready to give up her entire estate? Betray the Queen? Leave her country? Her father?
Chapter Eighteen
Layton watched Lady Aribella duringtheir quick carriage ride to St. James’s. Her sweet little nose, the smattering of freckles on her cheeks, the manner in which she carried herself, were all beautiful to him. Had it been wise to kiss her? He found he no longer cared how wise it was or was not. She was a wonderful person—giving, caring, exceptional. And now that he’d felt her lips, held her in his arms, witnessed her reaction to him, he could never step away.
The carriage rolled to a stop, and with great regret, he nodded his farewell and then paused at the window, seeking one more moment with Lady Aribella. “I’m sure I will be seeing you.” The driver got the team moving, and then Layton stood in front of St. James’s with a hand raised in farewell until the carriage moved out of sight.
The waiting footmen opened the front doors as soon as Layton approached. He stood just inside, hoping for his eyes to adjust to the dark interior. He had not walked two steps before a servant rushed by. The maid had red-rimmed eyes and bobbed a hurried curtsy to him before continuing on her way. Another maid passed going the opposite direction. He’d never seen the palace in such a hustle and bustle. Farther down the corridor, more servants were making their way this way or that. Noise came from the room to his right. He crept closer, then stepped back hurriedly into the shadow. The room was packed with people, all with handkerchiefs lifted to their noses, teacups clinking on plates, people speaking in hushed murmurs. Behind him, two footmen rushed past, and another tea tray entered the room.
As Layton had no desire to join a roomful of strangers, he found himself with nothing to do. He moved to the library and breathed in a blessed silence in which to think of Lady Aribella, for that was where his thoughts immediately turned. He walked up and down two rows of bookshelves, and then the door opened, women’s chatter invading Layton’s privacy. “She was the most beautiful little soul, too. How will they manage?”
“I just don’t know—not at all—and the poor King. Hasn’t he been through enough?” Others joined them, and Layton’s sanctuary soon filled with people. He groaned as his desire for solitude was thwarted.
He moved on, searching for a room that was less populated. Or, if he were honest with himself, one filled with men—the solid sort of men, not prone to hysterics, crying, or excited conversation. At length, he happened upon a room of pressed cravats, breeches, and sensible expressions, the men who wore them standing with glasses of port. Upon stepping past the doorframe, Layton hesitated, but an older gentleman called him over. “Oh, it’s the Prince of Oldenburg. Come in.”
“Thank you. I’m quite without a place to be right now.” He bowed. “I am Prince Layton.”
The others bowed, and he met Lords Hemming, Standly, and Pickering. Hemming lifted the decanter of port. “Would you like a glass?”
“Yes, please.”
Lord Hemming nodded in his direction. “Here’s a man who might have an inside perspective. We’re all placing bets on the chances King George can weather this loss without losing what’s left of his sanity.”
