Page 31 of A Tenuous Betrothal
She ignored his question, countering with one of her own. “Are you a fashion-conscious man? A dandy?” She held her hand up to her lips, attempting to appear serious. She couldn’t imagine Prince Marc caring one whit about fashion.
“Not in the way you are suggesting. I merely appreciate what clothes say about a person.” They rounded a far corner to circle the room again. “Take your gown, for example.”
“Ah, but my gown is not mine. It belongs to Her Grace.”
“But you chose it. Surely, it was not the only option.”
“No,” she admitted.
“There you go. It was your choice. It is daring and bold and enticing and just a wee bit dangerous, is it not?”
“Dangerous.” She scoffed. “I suppose you are once again bringing up the inability of men to control their base emotions simply because they feel a woman looks pretty in a gown.” She almost crossed arms over her chest, but that would have meant losing her hold on Prince Marc’s elbow, and she admitted she was enjoying the connection.
“I am not.”
“Oh?”
“The safe choice would have been white.”
Rhi pondered his words. “But I would have felt invisible.”
“Exactly. You wish to stand out enough that you are an individual. That is brave.”
She considered him. “Perhaps. But perhaps I am also purposeful, motivated to make an impression so I might marry, or perhaps I am simply...” She sighed. “Looking for a piece of myself in all this.” The words clogged in her throat in a surprising way. She turned away, attempting to hide the new burning in her eyes. For some reason, it was becoming increasingly easy to be herself with the prince. Perhaps because he was, in a small way, connected to her home.
He rested a hand on top of hers for only a moment, but the pressure there, his communication that he saw her, that he knew she was sincere, eased some of the loneliness that she often felt.
The evening progressed pleasantly. She didn’t converse much more with Lord Carmine, but as she was turning to leave with the Duke and Duchess of Sumter and Prince Marc, His Lordship approached, his eyes shining with some admiration. As he bowed over her hand, his lips curled in a slow smile. “Might I have the pleasure of the first set at the ball tomorrow night?”
Prince Marc cleared his throat.
“My first is already promised, but you may have the second. Thank you for the honor.” Rhi fluttered her lashes, more for her own personal enjoyment than anything else. Was he attracted to a woman who fluttered her eyelashes?
If Lord Carmine was affronted that she did not reserve him the first, he gave no sign, but pressed his lips to the back of her gloved hand, rose smartly, and said, “I shall be counting the measures through the first in anticipation.”
She laughed in surprised pleasure. “How gallant.”
He nodded and then left them.
The prince looked less than amused.
“Come, he has some wit. You heard it, didn’t you?” Rhi asked.
He did not respond while escorting her to their carriage. As she climbed in, he murmured, “The tiniest hint of what might approach wit.”
She entered the carriage and took her seat, shaking her head.
“What is our dear prince saying now that has your frown making an appearance?” The duke looked more amused than concerned.
The prince joined them and again sat beside her. “I said nothing you wouldn’t have also said.”
“I’m afraid he doesn’t much like Lord Carmine,” Rhi said.
Sophie reached for Rhi’s hand. “What? I thought he was charming and disarming and everything wonderful for a first meeting. Was he not so?”
“My praise would not be as lavish, but I thought him worth knowing. He should remain a contender, in my opinion,” Rhi said.
Sophie looked from her to the prince and back. “And is not your opinion the only one that matters?”
