She laughed with surprise. “He does boast. I’ll go first, if I may?”
“Of course.”
“May I compliment you on how well your brother looked today? His bride is lovely.”
“Thank you. Very kind of you to say.”
“She is an English commoner, is she not?”
It was not a question, but a comment that Leo supposed he was to confirm or deny. He didn’t suspect Lady Eulalie was doing anything more than attempting to make small talk as the situation required, but the question rankled him nonetheless. He hated that sort of question—it was not meant to inform, but to get at the heart of the matter: who outranked whom. He wished he was at the Foxhound with a tankard of ale instead of playing this game. Mercy, how soon he’d forgotten his vow not to drink. “She is not,” he said politely. “At least not anymore.”
Lady Eulalie laughed with delight. “Quite true,” she cheerfully agreed.
The trumpets suddenly blared from an alcove above their heads, announcing the arrival of the happy couple.
“Ah, here they are now, the handsome prince and his very fortunate bride,” Lady Eulalie said, and craned her neck forward to see. A line of English soldiers marched into the room beside a line of Alucian soldiers, and in a choreographed move, they turned to face one another, unsheathed their swords and held them aloft, crossing the tips. The effect was to form an aisle. A moment later, Bas and Eliza entered. Bas was dressed in his full military regalia, and Eliza in a frothy peach gown. She had donned a crown that Leo recognized as belonging to the royal collection. Her hand was on Bas’s arm, and from where Leo stood, he could see the slight tremor in her. He hoped one day soon she would become accustomed to all the attention—she would have it all her life.
He, along with everyone else in the ballroom, respectfully bowed to the future king and queen as they passed, and when he straightened up, he looked to his left to follow their progress to the dais. But when he did, instead of seeing the dais, he saw the glittering green eyes of Lord Hawke’s sister, the one who was clearly convinced of her own appeal. What was her name, for God’s sake? Why could he not recall it?
Leo liked Hawke quite a lot. He’d met him at a gentlemen’s club in London one evening some months ago, when they’d ended up at a gaming table together. They’d had a good laugh. They’d seen each other at various occasions since. But it was Hawke’s arrival in Alucia that had sparked their friendship. Leo had spent quite a lot of time in the gentleman’s company and now considered him a friend.
His sister, however, was a nuisance. Even now, when the entire ballroom seemed to understand that he and Lady Eulalie were to be allowed this moment, she was smiling at him with the eagerness of someone who meant to hop over to his side for a chat.
He averted his gaze. He was quite good at ignoring pointed looks. And women who smiled too eagerly. And women who thought they could merely bat their eyes and he would demand an introduction and offer her a kingdom. He was good at ignoring men, too, particularly those who wanted to know him with a hope for gain. And practiced politicians who wanted to whisper in his ear.
A pretty, green-eyed English miss was no challenge for him.
Bas and Eliza had walked the length of the ballroom to the throne dais and Eliza curtsied. The king stepped down from his throne and took Eliza’s hand, then escorted her up to the dais to sit in the chair beside him. Bas took his seat beside her. His father gestured to the couple and began to applaud. Everyone in the ballroom joined in, their applause hearty, shouting, “Vivat regiis reginae!”
Long live the royal princess.
The orchestra began to play in earnest, and it was official—against all possible odds in the known universe, Eliza Tricklebank was a Chartier, a member of the Alucian royal family.
“People are staring at us,” Lady Eulalie murmured.
“They will always stare,” Leo said, trying not to sound bitter about it.
“Yes, I suppose. The two of us have been tossed into a tiny boat on this sea of hopeful diplomacy, and we must make do with each other.”
At least she understood the rules of the game. “It would seem so.” He glanced at her, but Lady Eulalie’s attention was directed across the room, to her lover. Leo supposed he ought to be bothered by her brazen regard for the captain while standing next to him, and maybe he was, but at the moment, he couldn’t summon enough heart to care. Maybe they could enter this devil’s bargain with no expectations whatsoever. Perhaps he ought to keep more of an open mind about...
Leo was startled by what felt like an elbow or a shoulder to his back. He jerked around and looked right into the eyes of Hawke’s sister.
“Oh dear, I do beg your pardon!” She laughed and smiled so sunnily that, for a moment, Leo forgot she’d bumped into him. “How clumsy of me! I stumbled over my train. Oh!” She jerked the train around and, with one hand, reached behind her, he presumed, to fasten it. “I really do so admire the Alucian gowns, but the trains are beastly to wear.”
Once again, she had approached him without the slightest hesitation given that she was interrupting his conversation with Lady Eulalie. Once again, she was smiling and speaking to him as if they were fast friends. It was beyond his comprehension how the sister of a revered English baron could have so little care for proper etiquette. Not that he was devoted to proper etiquette and the rules that governed courtiers in this palace, but on this occasion, to bump into him and interrupt a conversation with another woman was too much. “Lady...” He paused, struggling to recall her name. His memory, he’d noted, was not helped when he overimbibed every night.
“Caroline,” she happily finished for him. “Caroline. Caroline Hawke? I am Lord Hawke’s sister.”
Ah, yes, Lady Caroline. “Yes, of course. Lady Caroline.” He inclined his head. Where was her brother? Better yet, where was the footman with champagne? Really, Hawke ought to keep a closer eye on his sister. Leo intended to ask her to fetch her brother, but she was leaning a bit to her right to see around him, her smile pointed at someone or something else. He realized then that she and Lady Eulalie had made eye contact. Lady Caroline was like a bird hovering, her head darting back and forth trying to get a good look at Lady Eulalie behind him. This was not how this meeting of his future wife was supposed to go, but Leo had neither the energy nor the desire to stop it. He sighed and said, quite reluctantly, “May I introduce you to Lady Eulalie of Wesloria.”
“A Weslorian!” Lady Caroline said with great enthusiasm. “How do you do? I’ve hardly met a single Weslorian. Yes, of course, there’s your bit of green. I’m surprised I didn’t spot it straightaway. I’m very observant, generally speaking. What an interesting habit it is for all Weslorians to wear a patch of green, isn’t it? I suppose it’s a bit like the Scottish and their tartan. I wish England were so inclined. We should wear ribbons to signify we are English, preferably yellow, as that is the color of happiness, and frankly, it goes well with my skin coloring. But I suppose the color of the ribbon would be left to the queen, wouldn’t it?”
Leo didn’t know what to say to the steady flow of words that came from the lady’s mouth. Neither did Lady Eulalie, as she was staring dumbfoundedly at Lady Caroline. No doubt she’d been raised, like all ladies, to believe that a woman should be demure in the presence of gentlemen and a prince.
“Lady Caroline Hawke of England,” Leo added unnecessarily. “As no doubt you just heard.”
Lady Caroline curtsied. When she did, Leo saw that everyone’s attention had turned to the dais because Bas and Eliza were coming down. The orchestra began to play an Alucian native dance.