Pity. He loved it when she snapped and crackled, all that fire seething beneath her icy exterior sizzling to life.
He gave the bud one last, lingering caress. “Is the reason not apparent, Miss Brett? It’s because I longed for your delightful company.”
Her nostrils flared in new evidence of her ire. “Your mere presence alone is enough to cause undue gossip for the princesses.”
“The princesses create all manner of gossip without my aid,” he drawled, thinking of the shock they’d caused in polite London society when they’d attended a ball wearing trousers.
Although ladies could don such a garment in their native land of Boritania, women wearing trousers were decidedlyoutréin England. To say nothing of the wild twins flirting their way through the ranks of theton. Their behavior and the ensuing swirl of social doom it had provoked were the reason Miss Brett’s prestigious services had been obtained.
But Miss Brett remained undeterred, staying at a polite distance as if she feared the stain proximity to him would cause her own character. “Nevertheless, the marked interest you pay to Princess Emmaline and Princess Annalise is unacceptable. It is a risk that is unnecessary for the both of them. If you hold them in regard at all, you will leave them to traverse polite society without your interference.”
Her words should have stung. Perhaps they did, a bit. But Miss Brett was growing increasingly annoyed with him, and Nando was perverse enough to enjoy the knowledge. She was mistaken on one fact. Persuading her to let him bed her was the only true campaign he was waging. He couldn’t be certain if her own modesty precluded her from deducing where his interest truly lay, or if she was simply so woefully inept at reading blatant carnal interest because of her own lack of experience. The reason didn’t matter. He would correct her misconception the only way he knew how—seduction.
Slowly, Nando sauntered toward her, pleased by the subtle way her eyes widened at his approach. He stopped near enough to touch her. The drawing room was cavernous by London town house standards. He’d taken his time approaching her, but the potent lure of Miss Brett, vexed and stern and nettled, was just too much for him to resist a moment longer.
“I would modestly suggest your assessment is not entirely accurate,” he said.
“I doubt there is even a modicum of modesty in any action you take, Your Royal Highness,” she huffed.
As it happened, she wasn’t incorrect. Nando wasn’t modest. He didn’t need to be. He was handsome, and he knew it. He was an excellent lover, and he wielded that skill often. Or at least, he had until the thorough distraction of the delectable Miss Brett. He had a big cock, he was a prince, he possessed ample wealth in his own right, he was sought after. Women—with the notable exception of the one before him—adored him. Some men did, too, and although he’d never been physically attracted to his own sex, he couldn’t find fault with those men for their excellent taste.
“Perhaps,” he allowed with a shrug that suggested it didn’t matter either way. “You needn’t insist on ceremony with me, Miss Brett. Please, call me Nando. All my friends and lovers do.”
Color crept over her cheekbones. “I’m neither your friend nor your lover, Prince Ferdinando. Such untoward familiarity would be most imprudent of me.”
She was flustered. He wondered if it was his attempt at coercing her into calling him by his given name or if it was his reference to lovers that did it.
“You could be,” he invited.
“No, I most assuredly could not,” she snapped, more color flooding her cheeks.
“Why not, Miss Brett?”
Irritation sparkled in her eyes. “Do not attempt to cozen me by playing your flirtatious games, Your Royal Highness. I know quite well that a man like you has no interest in a woman such as myself.”
How wrong she was. Astoundingly so. He would show her with great pleasure. First, however, she needed to be more amenable to his advances, and Nando was thrilled by the notion of a challenge—a woman who wouldn’t fall directly into his bed.
“I would never attempt to cozen you or play games with you, my dear,” he said easily. “I like you far too much for that.”
He liked her quite a lot, actually.
More than he could recall liking anyone, with the notable exception of his sister-in-law. The only difference was that his fondness for Tansy was entirely platonic and sisterly in nature. What he felt for Miss Brett, however?
The difference between night and day.
“If you think flattery will further your cause, you’re wrong,” Miss Brett told him. “But I suppose it doesn’t matter. If you’ve come to pay a call upon the princesses, I’m afraid you’re doomed to disappointment. They’ve left with their sister, Princess Anastasia, on an outing.”
Excellent. That meant he’d have Miss Brett all to himself for an indeterminate span of time. Nando tried to hide his glee.
“I suppose I’ve no choice other than to await their return. You may keep me company, Miss Brett. But perhaps you ought to ring for something. I’d dearly love some whisky, although I’ll settle for tea.”
Whisky was a favorite vice of Nando’s. One he knew quite well no respectable lady would offer him, even if the household possessed any of that spirit in its stores.
“I’ll not be taking tea with you, Your Royal Highness,” she denied crisply. “It would be unseemly.”
“Denying a royal prince is the most unseemly act by far,” he countered, not above using his title to press his advantage. “I’m sure Princess Anastasia would be displeased if she were to learn I was turned away like a common beggar from the streets.”
It was wrong of him to use her desire to maintain her position in the household against her. But Nando had done many things that were wrong in his admittedly debauched life. Indeed, he had no intention of ceasing. Because seducing the virginal spinster chaperone of Princesses Emmaline and Annalise St. George, a woman who had been tasked with taming their wild ways and making them into proper London ladies, was decidedly as wrong as he could be.
