Page 41 of A Tenuous Betrothal
Prince Henri had lighter hair and softer eyes but a contagious grin like none she’d seen. Goodness. They could each of them win the female heart without trying. She held her hand out to each of them. “I’m so pleased to meet you both. I’ve found my connections to Oldenburg thus far to be nothing but a blessing in my life.”
They bowed over her fingers with brief kisses. Prince Kristoff spoke for both of them. “It is absolutely our pleasure. Father would want us to send his love and his best wishes and, dare I say, his hope that he will soon see you on our shores, and much more closely aligned.”
Lord Carmine stiffened, and Rhi’s mouth opened in surprise at Prince Kristoff’s boldness.
Prince Marc’s face had gone blank, but he didn’t look in her direction, so she had no idea what he thought of such a bold comment.
But she laughed. “Who could resist an invitation to Oldenburg? I, too, hope to experience the beauty of your rocky shoreline.”
Everyone seemed to relax. Prince Henri studied her. Perhaps he could see more than she wanted seen. His small smile didn’t reveal much.
And then the music for the first set began.
Prince Marc cradled her hand and led her away from the group of men, who would now be the center of all other feminine attention.
Chapter Fourteen
Marc and Miss Davies facedeach other as other couples gathered for the first set.
“I have been in elevated company indeed.” Miss Davies pretended to fan her face.
Marc laughed. “No more elevated than you yourself are.”
“Hmm.”
Marc was astounded that she seemed completely unaware of her own beauty or the effect she was having on the room. Everyone watched, and she had no idea.
Her eyes were pools of interest, curiosity, intelligence. And they were solely focused on him right now.
They stepped closer. She placed her hands in his as they circled each other, then stepped back again. She was a lovely dancer. She held herself like a noble. He shouldn’t be surprised, but for some reason he was. Perhaps it was her toughness, that he knew her hands to be rough with callouses beneath her elegant gloves. Or that she’d lived in that tiny cabin in a remote town in Wales. Or perhaps it was her lack of having any previous London Seasons or local Welsh families of her own age and situation with whom to socialize. Whatever the reason, he was pleased that she could feel comfortable in such a highly visible situation as this ball. Her steps were light, and she was graceful.
Her neck was lovely. Marc tried to chide himself for noticing but then gave up. With her hair up in an extraordinary style, her long and slender neck, with its creamy skin, seemed soft and inviting.
He looked away. Perhaps she’d gift him a waltz and there might be an opportunity to hold her.
“Are you displeased?” Her face held a flash of concern and then perhaps a stubborn pride.
He quickly shook his head. “Not at all. I apologize for my lack of conversation. I was simply admiring you.”
Her eyes widened.
“I’ll be frank with you always. You have a lovely presence, you dance like an expert, and your hair suits you.” He shrugged. They moved away to circle the couple below them in their lines.
When she was at last standing in front of him again, her cheeks were flushed. Had he caused a blush? But she took one of his hands in hers as she spun. “You seem surprised,” she said.
“Not at all.”
But her raised eyebrow challenged him, and he dipped his head. “I am not surprised but simply pleased. You did not seem to have many opportunities to practice social graces, and yet it all comes so naturally. I think my mother almost gave up on me when she was attempting to teach me.”
Miss Davies’s laugh was charming. “Tell me more about your mother.”
“Here?”
“Why not?”
“Well then, of course. She is...” Marc stopped, realizing what he was just about to say. Miss Davies was quite a bit like his mother. But he didn’t wish to express such a thing, and he didn’t wish to think it. So he changed course. “She’s intelligent. Fun. Keeps all of us men in line, and half the kingdom, which is saying something—about us brothers, not the kingdom. I’m certain helping Father manage the kingdom is the easier part of her job.” He smiled. “She’s special to all of us. I hope someday you will be able to meet her.” What was he saying? That he hoped she came to Oldenburg? That was not what he meant, not really. But he really did wish she could meet his mother. Suddenly, out of the blue, because of a simple question at the ball, he wanted to know, needed to know, what his mother thought of this woman.
And he needed to change the subject. Now. “Tell me about the rest of your sets. Who is hovering about hoping for some attention?”
