Page 29 of The Secret of Flirting
Now she was confused. Had he actually decided to believe she was the princess, or was he merely toying with her? Given his position, probably the latter. Either way, she had best be careful; he could not be trusted.
She tipped up her chin. “It is a queen’s purview as well.”
Glancing away, he twirled her about the floor as effortlessly as a man born to it, which, of course, he was. “So you think you would make a good queen, do you?”
“A better one than you,” she quipped, delighted when that startled him into another laugh. “And yes, I think I would. I know what people want from their rulers.”
His amusement faded to cynicism. “Ah. And what is that, pray tell?”
“Fairness. Honesty. Loyalty. And compassion.”
He released a low whistle. “That is quite a list of qualities. What about a firm hand? What about justice?”
“There can be no justice where there’s no fairness. And a firm hand should always be tempered with compassion.”
That seemed to shake him. He gazed earnestly into her eyes. “It appears you think like a queen after all.”
“Does that surprise you?”
“Nothing surprises me about you.”
The look he then shot her sparked a need in her blood that burned through her veins the way his love bite had burned through her skin. He had this way of stripping her down to the essentials. No one had ever laid her bare like that.
The music ended, startling them both. He accompanied her to where the count now stood beside Lady Ursula. But before he left her, he said, “I would like to take you on a drive about London, show you some of the sights. Perhaps we could visit Hyde Park?”
“That would be wonderful,” the count answered for her.
She bit her lip to keep from protesting. She was so very tired of having people answer for her.
To her surprise, Lord Fulkham ignored the count. “Your Highness? Would you like a tour of the city? Hyde Park is spectacular in autumn, with the leaves changing color. I think you would enjoy it.”
Feeling the weight of Count de Beaumonde’s gaze upon her, she flashed Lord Fulkham a thin smile. “That would be lovely, sir.”
“Tomorrow, then?”
The count frowned. “Have you forgotten, Fulkham? Tomorrow is when the delegates are presented at Parliament.”
The quick flash of annoyance on Lord Fulkham’s face showed that hehadforgotten. “Of course. Wouldn’t want to miss that. But it’s in the morning. The late afternoon is actually the fashionable hour during the Season, and it’s the best time to go all year.”
“Regrettably, we have another engagement in the afternoon,” the count said, to Monique’s vast relief. “But I’m sure we could manage it on the following afternoon”
“Excellent. I shall come at four p.m. I look forward to it.” Lord Fulkham smiled at Monique with such intensity that a flame ignited low within her and licked fire along all the forgotten and desolate parts of her heart.
“As do I,” she said.
And to her complete mortification, she realized that she meant it.
The next morning, only one person interested Gregory as he scrutinized each foreign delegate being introduced to Parliament. He told himself it was because she was an impostor, but the truth was, Monique Servais interested him no matter what role she played. He enjoyed sparring with her. He enjoyed watching surprise gild her features whenever he said something that caught her off guard.
He enjoyed watchingher. Her malleable features displayed the subtlest of emotions. The characteristic served an actress—and an impostor—well. It made him wonder about the real Monique. He wanted to uncover her, to expose her... to explore her.
How reckless was that? She could destroy his entire career. Yet he was fascinated. Because she seemed not to know how dangerous she was, how dangerous was the game she played. That in itself intrigued him.
He glanced up into the gallery and noticed Hart standing there. Hart nodded, a signal that he had information to impart. Gregory looked about, noticed that the other MPs were half-asleep, and decided that he might as well speak with Hart now.Shehad not been presented yet, after all.
Rising from his chair, he made his way to the gallery and Hart. But as soon as he took a seat beside the fellow, Monique was presented.
Gregory couldn’t take his eyes off her. She wore a demure, elegant gown of fawn silk that shimmered whenever a shaft of sunlight caught it as she moved. Her hair, too, was sedately dressed, no doubt to amplify her regal appearance. But it was her smooth aplomb and measured speech that made her every inch a princess.
