“Well, when I say royal titles, I mean people like you. Foreigners,” said the gentleman, with seemingly no idea of his own rudeness. “You are just a Czar pretender, if you ask me.”
Irritation rushed through Maxim’s veins but he would not rise to the temptation of shouting at this idiot. “Thank you for your opinion.”
Surely anyone would take the hint, but the gentleman did not seem to have any idea that Maxim did not wish to speak with him.
“And if you ask me,” he continued, “the English crown should not be protecting you.”
Maxim swallowed down the retort that he had not, in fact, asked him, but said instead quietly, “I am here to speak with the Regent, to have him confirm me as the rightful Czar, and then I shall indeed be on my way.”
The gentleman stared, seemingly unable to think of anything else to say, and then walked away.
Maxim watched him accost a pair of ladies on the other side of the room, and considered calling him out for a duel as a defiler of his name, when he was distracted by a tap on his shoulder and a female voice.
“So, you are the Czar, are you?”
CHAPTER 2
It wasimpossible not to smile at the surprise on the possible Czar’s face, and Anne felt a rush of excitement flow through her. It was evident that this gentleman, in all his finery and gold tassels, was not accustomed to women being so forward.
Anne was hardly accustomed to it either. This was unlike her – not that she was a wilting wallflower most of the time. But young ladies, even those whom society would not class as young anymore, did not walk up to gentlemen they had not been introduced to and speak so boldly to them.
She had never been so bold. Well, not since…
Anne pushed away the thought. She left that part of her life behind, and she had done so a long time ago.
The gentleman described as a Czar recovered quickly. He smiled, charm oozing from every pore, before clicking his heels and reaching out to kiss her hand.
The sudden contact, even through gloves, was alarming and Anne found herself a little flustered but managed to say, “Is that a yes?”
He nodded. “Alexei Dmitry Immanuil Maximilian Konstantinvich, Czar of Russia. My friends call me Maxim.”
Anne raised an eyebrow. “Am I meant to be impressed?”
Maxim – Anne blushed at the thought, and immediately told herself she must think of him as the Czar – grinned. His smile utterly transformed his face, giving it a fresh joy that his laconic boredom simply had not created.
“I would like you to be,” he said quietly, “but I think I would have to go far to impress you.”
“Perhaps,” Anne said with a smile, “but you are the first royalty I have met today, so I am a little impressed.”
She glanced out at the crowd for a moment, unable to continue staring without her cheeks pinking, and saw her father nodding encouragingly.
Anne sighed. Why wasn’t it possible to speak to someone, anyone, without her father getting his hopes up?
Her father was alone – where was Meredith? For a moment, her heart stopped, but her searching eyes quickly spotted her, talking to one of the court musicians. He was showing her the different strings on his violin, and the tension disappeared from her shoulders.
“Are you always this aloof?” Maxim’s voice cut through her thoughts, bringing her to her senses.
Anne turned back and attempted to ignore how handsome he was. “Only when attempting to frustrate a gentleman.”
He laughed, a clipped laugh that nevertheless had warmth in it. “You have already been far more entertaining, Miss…”
Anne tried not to blush. “Anne Marsh. My friends call me Anne.”
“Anne Marsh,” Maxim said, with such intensity that Anne felt her cheeks heat. “Far more entertaining than anyone else in this stuffed court.”
She frowned, trying to ignore the strange desire that was starting to overwhelm her to move closer. “Stuffed?”
“Stuffy,” he hastily corrected, and Anne was surprised to see a little colour in his own cheeks. “English phrases do not come easily to me.”