Page 39 of Three Weeks with a Princess
“Engaging in any kind of nasty thoughts, much less conduct, with my cousin,” she said.
“Your Grace,” Jack warned, appalled that Gillian would so brashly allude to Lia’s parentage.
When she held up an imperious hand, he bit back a curse. In that moment, she looked entirely like a woman with the blood of princes running through her veins. He cast a glance around the room. Where the hell was her husband?
Jack spotted Charles across the room with Sir Dominic Hunter, a magistrate with close connections to the royal family—and to Lia’s family as well. The two appeared to be speaking earnestly.
“Your cousin?” Medford repeated, peering at Gillian with all the comprehension of a plate of boiled potatoes. Then his brow cleared. “Yes, of course, Lia Kincaid is your cousin! You’re both royal bas—”
“Careful, Medford,” Jack interrupted in a lethal voice.
“Yes, of . . . of course,” Medford stammered, taking in Jack’s glare. “And I understand completely, Your Grace. No need to worry about a thing.”
“There’d better not be,” Gillian said. “Now, please be off before I decide to become unpleasant.”
Since Gillian’s version of unpleasantness could be an uppercut to the jaw or worse, Medford gave a fumbling bow and retreated, almost running into Charles.
“That was not very wise of you, my love,” the duke said in disapproving tones.
“What?” She rounded her eyes in a completely unconvincing assumption of innocence.
“You know very well. Announcing to the world that Miss Kincaid is your cousin.”
“You have the most disgustingly acute hearing,” she complained. “I was barely speaking above a whisper.”
“Trust me, you weren’t,” Jack said, eyeing the people around them. Several had obviously heard the exchange with Medford and would no doubt be spreading the most interesting on-dit to hit Town in ages.
Gillian shrugged. “It’s not as if people don’t know who our fathers are. They’d make the connection soon enough. I simply refuse to stand by and let people insult the poor girl.”
“I understand, but I’d prefer that we not draw the picture for them until we have a chance to come up with a strategy to deal with the situation,” Charles said.
Jack shook his head. “Too late for that now. We might as well go back to our seats and see what other disasters are in store for us.”
Gillian grimaced. “I’m sorry, Jack. I didn’t mean to cause more problems.”
He briefly pressed her shoulder. “None of this is your fault. It’s mine for making such a hash of things with Lia.”
“Perhaps we can save the self-flagellation for after this gruesome evening has concluded,” Charles said dryly. “For now, I’d like to return to our box and pretend that I’m not in the middle of yet another spectacular scandal.”
“But I never cause scandals anymore,” Gillian protested.
Her husband scoffed as he took her hand and led her out of the rapidly emptying saloon.
As they made their way in silence back to their box, Charles made a point of directing his most killing glare at anyone who stared at his wife or dared to start to comment. Because Jack did the same, they cleared their path like a hot knife slicing through butter.
The curtain rose onA Surprise for the Publican’s Wifeand, as its unfortunate title suggested, it was a bawdy romp that soon had the audience roaring with laughter. Fortunately, Mrs. Lester was not in the production; she rarely played comic roles. Jack could only imagine the glee that would result if Lia and her mother appeared on the stage together.
As Jack waited for Lia to appear, it felt like the Sword of Damocles was poised over their heads. When she finally walked onto the stage, carrying a large pitcher on a tray, he took in her costume and barely held back a groan.
“That’s not good,” said Gillian in a massive understatement.
Playing a tavern girl, Lia wore a simple blouse tucked into a skirt that displayed her shapely legs well above her ankles. Her blouse was cut so low that the top of her stays peeked above the neckline, over which her breasts swelled in tempting mounds. Her hair was pulled back from her face to fall in an extravagant tumble around her shoulders. With her cheeks flushed, she looked madly delectable, as the whoops and cheers from the male members of the audience made all too clear.
“Oh, God.” Charles sighed. “This is a complete disaster. I have no idea how we’re going to fix this.”
“We’re going to—” Jack broke off and leaned forward, frowning.
Balancing her tray, Lia walked carefully across the stage, where the leading lady and other actors were gathered around a table singing a ridiculous drinking song. Clearly, her role was to replenish their mugs. It seemed a simple enough task, but Lia had the oddest look on her face. Jack swore he could see her nose twitching.
