Page 33 of To Pleasure a Prince
Murmuring a good night to her cousin, she headed off into the east wing. It was silly even to think Marcus could be right about Simon. Her brother was ambitious, true, but he was not the sort to use a young woman so slyly.
Marcus only made such horrible claims because he believed the worst of everyone. Look at what he thought ofher.
Though, to be honest, she was no longer certainwhathe thought of her. At first, she’d been sure he courted her merely to provoke her and Simon. And after he’d kissed her so passionately in Lord Iversley’s library, his insulting remarks had seemed to confirm that he had no genuine interest in her.
But then he’d defended her in the carriage. He’d praised her singing. He’d even called her “clever.” No one ever called her that. Beautiful, yes. Sophisticated, most assuredly. But clever? Not once.
She liked being called clever. Unfortunately, Marcus would not consider her clever at all if he knew the truth about her.
Cicely’s words preyed on her. If Marcus learned that she couldn’t read, he would think her stupid and even more shallow than he already thought her. Or he might think her damaged beyond repair. He certainly would not want her then.
No sensible man wanted a wife who might provide him with a damaged heir. It didn’t matter how rich or pretty or accomplished a woman was—she had to fulfill certain duties. What if she couldn’t?
That possibility depressed her.
Fortunately, she’d now reached Simon’s drawing room, where she could forget about the pesky viscount. Before knocking, she put her ear to the door to see what she might discover. But she heard only the low murmurs of two men engaged in a conversation they wanted to keep very private.
Drat it all. With a sigh, she knocked, and the conversation stopped at once. Simon growled an invitation to enter.
As soon as she breezed into the room, both men rose. His Highness was the first to greet her. As she dropped into a deep curtsy, he said, “No need to stand on ceremony with me, my dear.” He settled his large frame on the sturdy settee Simon had bought especially for such visits and patted the brocade. “Come sit beside me and tell me how you’re doing.”
Simon’s scowl was meant to discourage her from lingering, but she ignored it. “I am so glad you’re here, Your Highness,” she said as she went to sit beside the prince. “It appears that I will not be able to attend your dinner tomorrow night. I do hope you can forgive me.”
“It depends upon the reason.” The prince chucked her under the chin. “And since you don’t look ill—”
“Lord Draker asked Regina to join him at the opera tomorrow night,” Simon put in baldly before she could figure out how to explain.
The flicker of interest in His Highness’s face was unmistakable. “That’s quite another matter, isn’t it? I would not want to stand in the way of a courtship.”
At his choice of words, Regina flung her brother a questioning glance.
Simon propped one hip on a writing table. “I told His Highness about your new beau. I thought he’d find it amusing to hear how Lord Draker fared on his first foray into polite society.”
“Since when areyoua gossip?” Regina snapped, too annoyed at the thought of the terrible picture her brother had probably painted to ask why they’d been discussing her and Marcus in the first place.
“Your brother knows I enjoy such chatter.” His Highness took her hand and chafed it between his two large ones. “But do not worry your pretty head over it. Foxmoor had nothing but good things to say about you.”
She didn’t care what Simon said about her. What had he said about Marcus? And why should that even worry her? The prince might be Marcus’s father, but Marcus hardly acted as if he wanted the man’s good opinion. So why should she want it for him?
She didn’t know why.
She just did.
“Did Simon mention what a fine singing voice Lord Draker has?” she asked.
The prince eyed her speculatively. “No, but I am not surprised.”
He’d probably heard his son sing when Marcus was younger. Oh, how she wished she could ask him about Marcus as a boy. But she didn’t dare.
“So what do you think of the viscount otherwise?” the prince asked. “Clearly you find him appealing, if you mean to forget my dinner to join him at the opera.”
She cursed the blush that leaped to her cheeks, especially when His Highness tightened his grip on her hands. “He’s appealing enough, I suppose,” she said, trying to sound noncommittal.
“Regina means to transform him into a proper gentleman,” Simon drawled.
His Highness narrowed his gaze on her. “If anyone can do it, Lady Regina can.”
Thank heaven Simon hadn’t mentioned the wager. “I do not mean to transform him, but to ease his way in society. I hate to see a man with such fine qualities spend all his days out at his estate.”
