Page 27 of From London, With Love
“Your Highness,” Princess Imogen breathed, glancing up from beneath her lashes coquettishly as the prince lifted her hand to his lips.
His gaze strayed directly to her chest. Clearly he was a man of simple tastes.
Alexandra glanced at Gideon, and he smiled faintly in return, as if they were both thinking the same thing.
“I came to fetch you,” he said. “Malloryn wishes to speak to you before the speeches.”
“He does?”
“He does,” Gideon said, staring her baldly in the eye.
Oh. “If you will excuse me, Your Highness,” Alexandra said to the prince. “Duty calls. I’m sure my cousin will be a fine replacement.”
Prince Ivan seemed to realize his prey was vanishing. “And yet, my heart grows empty. No woman could replace you within it. Will you save me a dance?”
“Of course.” Inwardly, she sighed.
But at least she would have a moment away from him. They made their goodbyes and she practically fled.
“They make a handsome couple,” Gideon murmured as the pair of them ducked away.
“Yes. They suit each other.” She gathered her skirts. “The prince adores speaking of himself, and my cousin enjoys her own self-importance. Now, does Malloryn truly wish to see me?”
“No. I lied.”
“How shocking, Gideon. I thought you were a paragon of honesty.”
“I was afraid my queen was going to launch herself over the rail in the pursuit of escape. I risked my honor to save her life.”
“You’re dreadful.” But she laughed. “Thank you. Now, perhaps I can reward you with a dance?”
“Perhaps I should take all of them, so you won’t be encumbered by that enormous lout.”
Alexandra offered him a secret smile from across the deck. “Now, now, Gideon. If I granted you all of my dances, people would whisper that I was intending to courtyou.”
His dark eyes met hers, and he almost seemed to want to say something.
But then the door opened, light and laughter spilling out, and she could not ask.
* * *
Three mornings later,Alexandra found herself once more at bay.
She’d just mounted the handsome gray mare she preferred when Prince Ivan appeared out of nowhere.
“Your Majesty. What luck. I was going for a ride this morning, too.” He snapped his fingers, and one of the grooms led a fractious black stallion out, fully tacked.
“What luck indeed,” she replied dryly.
Was Malloryn behind this?
She couldn’t imagine the duke would care to deal with this infuriating blue blood—and Ivan wasn’t the sort to respond to Malloryn’s bit well—but who knew? Someone was clearly feeding him information as to her common habits.
Not deigning to wait for him, she clicked her mare into a trot and rode out into the streets that would lead to Hyde Park. In the foggy morning, she could almost feel alone, ignoring the pair of guards who trailed her and the prince who spurred his horse after her.
She rode for almost an hour before she let her horse drop into a stroll, dropping its head to nuzzle at a grassy verge.
“You ride well, my queen,” Prince Ivan called, easing to her side.
