Page 32 of The Secret of Flirting
She could handle Lord Fulkham. She must.
Nervously she adjusted the gold bracelet she wore to cover his love bite. It gave her a secret thrill to know it was there. Curse the man for that.
“You must play nice with him,” the count said. “Encourage him.”
She stiffened. “What do you mean?”
“Being an actress with many admirers, you must realize how men are. Flatter him and soothe his fears. I’m sure you know how.”
Stifling a burst of temper, she said, “Of course.” Though she didnotknow how. She’d learned from her grandmother never to encourage men who wished to conquer her. Otherwise, they only became more strident, more demanding... more dangerous.
Or so Grand-maman said. But the undersecretary was dangerous for an entirely different reason. Because she was far too susceptible to him, though God only knew why.
“I will do my best,” she said. “But he is predisposed toward choosing a man to rule Belgium.” She wasn’t sure of that, but it made sense. Men always favored other men.
The count frowned. “He won’t continue to be so if you make him enamored of you. Men think with their... you know. And he is no exception.”
This time she had more trouble hiding her anger. Why did everyone assume that actresses were whores? Elizabeth Farren had been famously chaste until she married the Earl of Derby. And Monique knew plenty of women in the theater who did not take lovers, who did not want to be a man’s toy.
Well, afewwomen, anyway. And she was one of them, having learned that even marriage could prove treacherous to one’s future. She would find a man who would accept her profession, who understood her need to be free, who would allow her a voice in her future. Who would not tear her family from her.
It certainly couldn’t be Lord Fulkham, since he seemed determined to expose her, which would end her hopes of taking care of Grand-maman in Chanay.
One of their English footmen came to the door. “Lord Fulkham is here for Princess Aurore.”
“Send him in,” the count said.
When Lord Fulkham entered she tried not to be impressed, but it was difficult. The man certainly knew how to dress. Most of the Englishmen in the streets looked frumpy and ill-kempt. While the members of Parliament carried themselves better, their overhanging bellies and red noses testified to their overindulgence in food and drink. And the lack of hair was common enough for her to think the English a race of bald men.
Not Lord Fulkham. Looking ever so smart in his royal-blue coat, ivory waistcoat with brown stripes, and buff trousers, he emanated power in a way that other English lords did not. Their attire was fussy and extravagant. His was understated, hiding his important rank the same way his body’s lean, clean lines hid his surprising strength.
It made her nervous. She always liked to know what kind of man she was dealing with, and he shielded his true character at every turn.
“Good afternoon, Your Serene Highness,” he said in a voice like warm chocolate. A pity his eyes were like the frozen ices from Gunter’s in Berkeley Square.
She raised an eyebrow. “I’m looking forward to our jaunt through your little park.”
That warmed his gaze, and he chuckled. “The king would be amused to hear you refer to his park as ‘little.’ ”
“The princess hasn’t had much chance to see the city, I’m afraid,” the count cut in. “Too many appointments and parties.”
The ice returned to Lord Fulkham’s eyes as he trained them on the count. “We do like to keep our guests busy. It prevents them from wandering too far afield.”
“Wandering?” A frown crossed her great-uncle’s brow. “Who has been wandering?”
“I understand you were recently in Dieppe, sir,” Lord Fulkham said.
Though the count showed no surprise, her heart jumped into a frenzied rhythm. Lord Fulkham had apparently done some probing into the Chanay contingent. Either that or he was trying to provoke her great-uncle into revealing her role in the scheme. Then he would expose their former association and ruin everything.
Merde.
“I was indeed in Dieppe, not that it’s any of your concern,” the count said, as matter-of-factly as if Lord Fulkham had just mentioned a ride into the English countryside. “I have relations there, so I thought I would take advantage of being in Calais, close enough to take a steam packet there in one day, to pay them a visit. You do realize my family is from very near there, do you not?” His voice hardened. “Your spies must have told you. I was raised in Rouen. I met my late wife, great-aunt to Princess Aurore, in Paris.”
Monique fought to hide her surprise. She had not known that, though she had known the count wasn’t native to Chanay.
“What spies, sir?” Lord Fulkham said smoothly. “You are guests here. We don’t spy on our guests.”
The count flashed him a tight smile. “Of course not. And I do not spy on my English friends, either.”
