She gazed about the room. “If hotels are no longer safe…”
“Then you must come home with me,” he finished firmly, and flashed her his most brilliant smile.
Her eyes narrowed to slits.
He held up his palms. “The Wynchester residence is truly the last place your brothers would look for you. We are unconnected to royalty and are just as resourceful as your Guardsmen. I can also ensure carriages and cohorts at your disposal for the duration of your stay.”
“I do not want your carriages, and I do not need your cohorts.”
“Do as you wish. You can walk back and forth from Islington if that’s your pleasure. Spin a few yarns. ReenactCanterbury Tales.”
“Thewhat?” She stared at him. “Are you still speaking English?”
The truth was, Kunigunde’s presence addressed several of Graham’s preoccupations at once: his desire to help others, his obsession with royalty, and his long-held yearning to learn more about Balcovia, where his father had been born. Bean had told them dashed little. His recent history had been a sad time in his life, Bean had said. He would start a new future, with them.
But now that Graham had met Kunigunde, Balcovia seemed more magical than ever.
England, for all its wonderful features, held to deeply rigid demarcations of class and station. While London was home to twenty thousand free Black people, none of them sat in the House of Lords. Rising up through the social classes was almost impossible. Slavery was still legal throughout the rest of the British Empire.
Graham could not imagine what it must be like to be Kunigunde. To live in a country where Kunigunde couldbeKunigunde. To have such a close relationship with a royal princess that she could receive bejeweled baubles as a casual gift from one friend to another.
He could not understand why anyone in her position would leave idyllic Balcovia. But for as long as she remained here—Kunigunde would be his princess, and Graham her faithful knight. It would be like living in a fairy tale.
“Think of our home as a travelers’ inn of sorts,” he coaxed.
“I work alone,” she said flatly. “And I do not know you.”
“Do you know the owner of the Pulteney Hotel?”
“Their accommodations were effusively recommended in my guidebook. I did not see your name anywhere.”
“That is an embarrassing oversight. I have associates at every newspaper in London, but not at a single publishing house…yet. You want flowery praise? Try next year’s guidebook. An entire chapter will be devoted to ‘The Wonderful Wynchesters.’”
“Wonderful according to whom?”
“To whomever we can help. Our clients come from all over the city.”
“You are unarmed. How can you defend them?”
“How can you tell I’m— Have you been admiring my fine, athletic form?” He waggled his eyebrows.
“I had not noticed,” she said quickly. But she did not disagree with his assessment.
“I would not blame you if you choose to walk away from my offer,” he admitted.
She arched her brows. “Since you are such a superb seeker, wouldn’t you justfindme again?”
“Icould…but I shall vow to refrain, if that is your wish. It was not my intent to frighten you, or make you fear for your safety.”
“Fear for my— I do not fear any Englishman!” she sputtered. “I could have sent a dagger through your heart before you first approached me. Besides, although your name fails to appear in the guidebook, gossip is not limited to the printed word. I have overheard murmurings since my arrival.”
“You’veheardof me?” he said in delight.
“Of your family as a whole. I do not know individual names or any detail, but the members of your family are said to be great philanthropists to the downtrodden. I assumed a pair of wealthy aristocrats who made conspicuous donations to charities.”
“Well off,” Graham agreed, “and frequently conspicuous. The rest is…best seen with one’s own eyes. Would Your Highness like to perform firsthand reconnaissance on the matter? The offer of lodgings still remains.”
She tilted her head, clearly considering the offer.
