Page 15 of From London, With Love
Malloryn cocked his head. “I think your affections quite fixed, are they not?”
A shock of heat thrilled through her.
He couldn’t know, could he?
The duke’s smile widened as if she’d betrayed herself. “Give my regards to Prince Ivan. He did mention that he’d be awaiting you at the exhibition.”
* * *
Malloryn was correct.
The prince lay in wait the second she cut the ribbon and pronounced the exhibition open to the viewing public—which, of course, meant the elite, or at least, it did for the first day.
Alexandra tried to enjoy herself.
The exhibitions were indeed intriguing. Inventors from across the globe had come to try their hand at the exhibition’s prize, which she’d set herself. The Queen’s Purse. And possibly patronage from the royal house. This might have been the inaugural exhibition of its type, but she hoped to continue the tradition. It had been the product of both her and Sir Gideon’s imaginations, a scheme drummed up beneath gaslight as they played chess.
Blue bloods had ruled too much of Europe thus far.
She wanted the human members of her realm to have a chance to compete with them on an even scale, and where better than the mechanical arts?
It was also a chance to push the boundaries of technology and encourage the young scientists of the empire—as well as those from abroad. She wanted her empire to be considered a world leader, and in the wake of the upheaval of the revolution, this had seemed a perfect way to flaunt Britain’s might.
“And which exhibitor has caught your interest?” the prince murmured as they strolled through the galleries, ahead of a pack of his cohorts.
She glanced around. “There are too many to name just one. Which exhibit interests you?” she asked politely, to see if his choices could give her some insight into his character.
He immediately brightened. “The Scandinavian kraken submersibles. Though my interest may have something to do with their latest designs and the way the patrol the Baltic Sea. There have been several encounters with Russian ships.”
“Ah, so you seek further insights into their strengths and weaknesses.”
He shrugged. “Our peoples prepare for the renewal of the Treaty of Stockholm this summer. The terms of the treaty were originally set one hundred years ago, and this is the first time we have had a chance to renegotiate them. It may be… an interesting time.”
“The Scandinavians are allies of Britain,” she reminded him. “They are our good friends.”
“Then perhaps Russia needs to become your ally too? Perhaps we also could be your friends?”
“Perhaps. Is that why you’re here, Prince Ivan? To further the interests of your people? Is it duty that drives your presence?” she teased.
“Duty that insisted I come, though I will concede to being pleasantly surprised.” He smiled at her. “Duty has never seemed so enjoyable before.”
Prince Ivan lifted a hand, capturing her cheek in his leather-clad palm.
Alexandra froze.
Not only was it the height of presumption and discourtesy, but she couldn’t say a thing. Her body simply stiffened, the way it always had when her husband loomed over her. She was shutting down like an automaton, her circuits awry, the noise turning into a fierce babble around her.
Prince Ivan’s nostrils flared, as if sensing prey. He lowered his hand. “I have offended you.”
Relief burst over her like a cascade, and suddenly sound rushed back into her ears. “Offended, no? Presumed, yes.”
She stepped away, and he let his hand drop, a faint, perplexed indent between his brows.
“Pray excuse me,” she said, turning to walk away before he could reply. She almost slammed into one of his companions—the Grand Duchess Xenia Nikolaevna—before staggering away from the voluptuous blonde with a stammered apology.
It was only when she was in the privacy of the hallway that she allowed herself to relax.
She was perspiring so badly, she felt as though she’d run all the way to Windsor and back.
