The Prince Who Loved Me Part 20

Alexsey thought of Bronwyn's large brown eyes, velvety dark, the lashes so long they tangled at the corners, and of her full mouth, so tender and ready to open for him. Of the way her eyes sparkled when he won a smile from her- He tossed back some scotch. "I know exactly what I am about, and so far, she's been worth the pursuit. She's more beautiful each time I see her."

Strath whistled. "She has truly captured your attention. She seems rather . . . unapproachable to me."

"She is not an easy woman to conquer, but I will prevail. If I can get past the dragon guarding her."

"Her mother?"

"Her own fears."

"And then?"

"Then I will light her pa.s.sion."

"And then leave her, just like that."

"Once our pa.s.sion has burned itself out, she will be glad to see me go. I have been very plain with her about my expectations, as she has been plain about hers."

Strath looked impressed. "You've had that conversation, and she didn't eat you alive?"

Alexsey shrugged. "She knows how things stand. I hope to spend some time with her this evening after dinner. Although it will be in front of everyone, it will be something."

"We should rearrange the cards on the table so that you may sit with her. I've used that little trick on occasion."

"I looked earlier, but Sir Henry and my grandmother were already there, moving cards about as if they were playing some sort of game. And now that the silver is set, staff have been a.s.signed to watch the tables." He set his gla.s.s down. "I may need to do something rash."

"I'm happy to help you. Just let me know what you need." Strath turned toward the window. "Ah, that's the first of the carriages." He crossed to the door and held it wide. "Let the rashness begin!"

As he'd glumly expected, Alexsey wasn't seated anywhere close to Bronwyn at dinner. She and her sisters were all near Strath, who'd ended up with Miss Sorcha at his side. The viscount didn't appear to be fond of the arrangement, for he barely said a word to her, or she to him, during the entire three hours it took to suffer through dinner. He spent most of his time talking animatedly to the beauty seated at his other side, while Sorcha sent him furious glances whenever she wasn't speaking to her other dinner partner, an elderly man who dozed at his plate, waking only in time for dessert.

Tata's heavy hand could be discerned in the guests seated at Alexsey's sides. On his left was a viscount's daughter who had a tendency to use the word "I" to excess, while on the other was a duke's daughter who was too tongue-tied to address more than two words to him throughout the entire dinner.

Alexsey ignored them and watched Bronwyn instead. She spoke to the people to either side of her, but didn't look especially comfortable doing so. At one point she must have said something bold and Bronwyn-like to the man seated at her left, for he flushed and then turned, refusing to look at her for the rest of the evening.

Bronwyn didn't seem to notice, but every once in a while, she glanced Alexsey's way and their eyes would meet. Each and every time, he found himself fighting off a flicker of pure heat. To other people, she looked shyly sweet, the type of woman who didn't raise her voice unless pressed, but he knew better. Behind those liquid brown eyes was a brain sharper than most, and a streak of powerful pa.s.sion.

Sir Henry finally signaled the end of dinner and stood. "Normally, I would suggest the men join me for a gla.s.s of port, but tonight the ladies wish to play charades and whist, and will need partners. Therefore, I suggest we join them immediately, lest they find other men to do so."

This was met with a gentle round of laughter and everyone rose.

"Port, sherry, and refreshments will be served in both salons where the games will be played," Sir Henry announced.

The crowd began to move toward the doors at the end of the dining room, and Alexsey lost sight of Bronwyn in the crowd. "d.a.m.n it. Where did she go?" he asked Strath.

"She and her sisters decided to play charades. It's being played in the Green Salon."

"Is that a card game?"

"No, it's a silly children's game."

"And adults play it?"

"Silly adults play it at silly house parties like this, where the silly host thinks nothing of torturing the rest of us by withholding port."

Alexsey glanced around. "Where is this Green Salon? We are joining the game."

"What? No. I don't play charades."

"You do now."

"But-it's quite the lamest entertainment ever. Men never play it, only women."

"Men will play this one."

Muttering to himself about being misused, Strath led the way to the Green Salon.

As soon as they went through the wide doors, Alexsey instantly found Bronwyn. Her back was to him, and she and Sorcha were speaking with a young lady with red hair.

Strath squinted at the redhead. "That's Miss MacInvers. Wealthy family, the MacInvers, and only one daughter. She's considered quite a catch, but that laugh-" He shook his head. "I'd put a rope about my own neck before the first week ended."

"I will avoid her. Who is the man pretending to sleep in the back row of chairs?"

"Oh, that's Mr. MacPherson. His wife must be playing." Strath glanced around the room. "She's by the refreshment table along the back wall, speaking with Lady Malvinea and Miss Mairi."

Alexsey saw Lady Malvinea at the same time she saw him, and there was no mistaking the way her jaw firmed with determination.

He'd often gotten just such a look from his grandmother, so he knew exactly what it meant. She would soon send Sorcha his way. He turned back to Strath. "Everyone seems to be holding slips of paper."

"Yes. Everyone is a.s.signed a number so they know which order to partic.i.p.ate."

"Indeed."Alexsey looked about the room. "You said men do not play this game, and yet Lord Perth appears to be playing, for he has a slip of paper. And there is a gentleman by the fireplace, although he doesn't have a- Ah. Someone just gave him one, so he is also playing, as is-"

"Yes, yes. Mr. MacKennit. I see them all, but seriously, Alexsey"-Strath leaned closer-"they're not men. They're lapdogs, every one."

Alexsey lifted a brow. "You lied."

"Me?" Strath tried to look shocked, then sighed. "Fine. I hate this game. I'd rather be shot point-blank with bird shot and have it all removed with fireplace tongs than play."

"I will be unhappy if we do not play this game, which is a pity. I was going to take you out tomorrow morning to shoot my new dueling pistols, but now I will not feel like doing so."

Strath straightened. "You have a new set?"

"I purchased them from Felligrino himself."

"That-I've tried to buy some from him, but he won't sell them to me."

"He only sells them to those who can shoot."

"I can shoot!" At Alexsey's raised brows, Strath sighed and added, "Somewhat."

"You would like these pistols. They are balanced like a feather on a pinhead, silky smooth to shoot, the action-"

"Demme you, Menshivkov. My one weakness!"

"And did I mention the handles have silver engraving? Not too much, as it might offset the balance. But delicately, like a b.u.t.terfly's kiss-"

"Fine, I'll play your demmed game of charades! But I warn you, I'm horrible at this game and suspect you won't be any better."

Alexsey shrugged, his gaze finding Bronwyn once more. We will be together soon, Roza. I will see to it. "Do not count me out, Strath. I am very compet.i.tive and do not take failure lightly. Explain how this game is played."

"The person organizing this game is Miss MacInvers, as she's by the front of the room where the play table has been placed. First, everyone is a.s.signed a number. When your number is drawn, it is your turn to play. You go to the front of the room, pull a slip of paper-"

"A different one?"

"Yes. You pull this one from a hat or a bowl or some such holder, and then you act out what it says."

"Act? As if on a stage?"

"Yes, but you can't say a word. While you're acting out the object or person or thing that is written on the slip of paper, people in the audience call out their guesses. If someone guesses correctly, you give him the slip of paper. At the end of the game, whoever has the most slips of paper wins."

"That's ridiculous."

Strath brightened.

"But we will play anyway. Tell me more."

"b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l. Let's see . . . what more is there to tell? Ah yes-though you can't speak, there are some generally accepted signals. People use this gesture"-he tugged his ear-"to mean 'sounds like.' "

"I will remember. What else?"

"This"-he tapped his nose-"means 'spot-on.' "

"Very well. And what do I win if I get the most slips of paper?"

"Something ridiculous, like a paper crown or a small cake."

"A pity. Games are more fun if there is money involved."

"That would make it tolerable. Or scotch."

Alexsey nodded.

"Then I'll go give our names to Miss MacInvers." Strath sighed and left.

Alexsey continued to watch Bronwyn, who'd been joined by her stepmother and stepsister. She glanced around the room and when her gaze met his he bowed, smiling.

She flushed, a pleased look flashing over her face as she took an involuntary step in his direction. But before she could take a second step, her stepmother took her elbow and whispered something urgently in her ear, her posture stiff. She and Bronwyn spoke briefly; then Lady Malvinea turned and said something to Miss Sorcha.

Sorcha sent him a quick glance and turned as red as the cushions on the settee.

Lady Malvinea said something else, her tone obviously more strident, for Alexsey caught it from across the room. Sorcha, with what looked like a brave nod, left her mother's side and slowly made her way to Alexsey.

The sacrificial lamb. He bowed when she curtsied her greeting. "Good evening, Miss Sorcha. I see you and your family will be playing charades."

"Yes, we love charades."

"Who doesn't?"

She nodded and started to say something but bit her lip, obviously ill at ease. Finally, she said, "Your Highness, it's . . . it's lovely to see you here." Her voice carried an arch breathlessness. "Most men don't enjoy charades."

"My grandmother's family loves drama. Every evening, after the sun went down and the campfires were lit, they would sing and dance and perform silly comedies, and sometimes bits of Shakespeare."

"It sounds wonderful."

"Sadly, most of the plays they knew weren't fit for mixed company."

"Oh."

He hid a grin as he watched her realize that of all the lessons she'd had about making conversation with a prince, none addressed how to discuss inappropriate Gypsy plays.

She managed a thin smile as she stammered, "That's- But of course no one would ever think-I mean- It's very-"

Fortunately for the tongue-tied Sorcha, Strath returned. He cast a dismissive glance at her and favored her with the briefest of bows, which she reluctantly returned, her own mouth tight with displeasure.

Strath handed a slip of paper to Alexsey. "Miss MacInvers informed me there was room for only one more player, so I've designated myself your interpreter, should you draw a word or phrase you aren't familiar with."

Alexsey took the paper, which had an elegant #20 written in script.

Miss Sorcha dipped a curtsy. "I should rejoin my mother, if you'll excuse me-"

"Please stay with us. The game is about to begin, and I see three seats that are together." Alexsey proffered his elbow.

She hesitated, but only for a second, and he escorted her to the seats. Once they arrived, Miss Sorcha took a seat, Strath following suit.

Alexsey said, "I will be back shortly. I wish to speak with Miss MacInvers before the game begins."

"What for?" Strath asked.

"Rule clarification. You may keep Miss Sorcha company while I do so."

"But-" Strath and Sorcha said at one and the same time.

Alexsey slipped away, making his way to where Bronwyn and her mother and younger sister stood with a small group of ladies.

Lucinda watched the flower as it was washed down the path and into a great puddle. There, it floated. Though the rain pelted it cruelly and the wind shoved it hither and yon, the little flower remained afloat. Though delicate in design, it was flawlessly strong in heart.

-The Black Duke by Miss Mary Edgeworth Bronwyn wished for the tenth time that she were anywhere else. Her stepmother was on one side, Mairi on her other, as Lady Alexandra, the daughter of Earl Mercer, complained again about the temperature of the room, which she found too warm for her complexion. As the lady's complexion was ruddy due to the whiskey she constantly sipped out of a silver flask when she thought no one was looking, it was difficult to maintain an air of genuine concern.

It was with relief that Bronwyn felt someone at her elbow. Thinking it was Sorcha, she turned with a smile and found herself staring straight at the green emerald embedded in the prince's knotted cravat.