Page 54 of In the Prince's Bed
“That I was cavorting across the Continent?” His eyes twinkled. “I’ve heard that rumor myself.”
“So it’s not true?”
“It depends on what you call ‘cavorting.’ I was on the Continent, after all.”
“You went there on the Grand Tour,” she prodded. He’d never revealed so much before, and she intended to take advantage of it.
“Actually, no. But my father was too proud to tell people the truth.”
“Which was…”
“He took exception to my rule-breaking ways when I was sent down from school for a petty offense, so he packed me off to live with my aunt and uncle.”
The pain latent in those words was too palpable to be feigned, yet she could hardly believe his claim. “And you stayed for ten years?”
He shrugged. “I preferred it to the insanity of London society. My uncle bred racehorses as a hobby, and I like to ride, so I stayed on.”
“During a war.”
“We lived in a part of Portugal largely unaffected by Napoleon’s armies.”
She eyed him suspiciously. Had there been any such place? She should have paid more attention to the accounts of the war in the newspapers. “Why didn’t you tell anyone this before?”
“It didn’t come up,” he said smoothly.
“Itdidcome up,” she persisted. “Several times.”
“You were determined to believe in my cavorting, no matter what I said.”
“Only because you gave no other reason for your absence from England.”
“Pshaw, Katherine,” Mama put in. “The poor man explained himself. Must you plague him so? I don’t care what he did in Portugal. I only want to know if he ever got to France and whatle beau montwere wearing there.”
Katherine nearly snapped that she didn’t care what “the beautiful hill” of France was wearing, but Alec responded first, smoothly ignoring her mother’s fractured French. After apologizing for not having been to France, he quickly launched into a discussion of Portuguese bonnets to placate her.
Giving Katherine no choice but to mull over his revelations. She knew he was still hiding something. His tale seemed too contrived to be true—the estranged heir to an earl sent abroad, where he found joy living the simpler life of a Portuguese noble? Hard to believe this sophisticated man had gained his knowledge of the world by breeding horses.
Although it explained why he rode so well and how he’d acquired his Lusitano, why not tell her the truth in the first place? Why not telleveryonethe truth? There was nothing ignoble in it. Eccentric perhaps, but not ignoble.
The man was pure enigma. Sometimes he was a perfect gentleman, giving her a brooch meant for his mother and promising to pay her family’s debts. Sometimes he was suspiciously smooth, like when he handled Mama as expertly as he handled his mare. And sometimes…
Sometimes he was a bold conqueror who dragged her into his arms to demand kisses. Unfortunately, she liked the conqueror as much as the gentleman…possibly even more.
Truth be told, her craving for the conqueror’s kisses had become insatiable. She often lay awake at night for hours, trying to remember how he’d tasted and felt, reliving the wicked caresses of a scoundrel.
If Alec really was a scoundrel. She hardly knew anymore.
The surprises continued when they reached the Royal Amphitheatre. He’d reserved a private box, which was never done here. Tickets were issued by the person, and boxes weren’t rented. If he was trying to impress them, he was certainly succeeding.
They had excellent seats—close enough to see the exaggerated expressions of the clowning “tailor” who was dragged about by one horse, pinned beneath another, and chased through an open window by a third. Then came the hippodrama, “The Blood Red Knight,” about the beautiful Isabella, whose evil brother-in-law carried her off to a set of a castle.
Mama was bored, of course—she would prefer Vauxhall Gardens—but Katherine couldn’t tear her eyes from the action in the sawdust ring, or the romantic tale being played out on the huge stage behind it. Cornwall had nothing like this. And though she missed her quiet country life, she also enjoyed these London entertainments.
Glancing at Mama, who was dozing now, Alec draped his arm over the back of Katherine’s chair and leaned close. “Well?” he asked in a low rumble. “Is it what you imagined?”
“Even better. How do they get so many horses to behave?”
“Lots of carrots,” he quipped.
