“When would be a more appropriate time for Your Royal Highness to consider that you were nearly murdered?” Tierney asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Why are you so concerned about what happened to me?” Nando asked, curious.
It wasn’t as if the two of them were friends. He’d rather had the impression that Tierney suffered his presence for the sake of Princess Anastasia. Nando hadn’t minded. He wasn’t certain he liked the Englishman, and he hadn’t come to England to make friends. He’d come to distract himself and get lost in a sea of petticoats. And he’d managed to accomplish both objectives.
Except now, he didn’t want a sea of petticoats. He only wanted one particular set. At least, until he had her. Nando had no doubt that after he assuaged the intense lust he possessed for the icy Eleanora, his voracious appetites would once more return.
“Because I need to make certain my wife isn’t in danger,” Tierney answered solemnly. “I would give my life for hers. When a man is shot in the street outside my town house, I’m left with no option, save finding out who committed the act and why, so that I can be assured it won’t happen again. If someone is daring enough to shoot at a royal prince in daylight where anyone can see him, he’s not just foolhardy and reckless, he is dangerous. I need to know who did this. It may be related to enemies of Boritania or enemies of Varros. Either way, no one will be truly safe until we find the culprit.”
Blast.
Nando didn’t want to think about any of that just now. He wanted to bask in Eleanora’s attentions and forget the outside world existed. But Tierney wasn’t wrong about what he’d just said. Someonehadbeen daring and brazen enough to attempt to end him in the midst of the day on a busy Mayfair street. Heought to make that his primary concern and not the seduction of Miss Eleanora Brett. How boring.
He sighed, relenting. This business of his would-be assassin was most disagreeable.
“I understand your concern, Tierney.” Nando looked to Bruno, who was silently standing sentinel at the door, his countenance severe and unsmiling. “Have you learned anything?”
“I have some men investigating, Your Royal Highness,” Bruno offered. “Thus far, the only thing they have to report is a woman who made haste in fleeing. It’s possible she was frightened by the firing of the pistol and commotion, but we have yet to discover who she was so that we might make inquiries.”
“Have you recently bedded any murderesses, Your Royal Highness?” Tierney asked.
Deus.Nando thought about the women he’d flirted with and seduced since his arrival in London. Was it possible that he had somehow offended one of them? Each woman had been more than satisfied. He was a generous lover, a skilled lover. He knew how to please a woman. No woman left his bed—or hers, or the carriage, or the wall, or the table, or even the garden path—unsatisfied. He made certain of it.
“When I part with my lovers, it is always on excellent terms,” he said.
But was it? There had been some lovers, certainly, who had wanted far more from him than he had been willing or able to give. Still, none of his lovers had been furious with him, and none of them was the sort of woman who would try to kill him.
Were they?
“Excellent terms for you, no doubt,” Tierney drawled as if reading Nando’s mind. “But what about for them? Have none ofyour paramours been upset that you’ve ended your liaisons with them?”
There had been a rather furious viscountess, now that he thought upon it. She’d been a red-haired beauty with generous breasts. He couldn’t recall her name. Or had she been a duchess? She had thrown a vase at his head when he’d ducked out of her bedroom just after dawn.
“Who is she?” Tierney asked before Nando could offer a response.
He narrowed his eyes at the man. “You have an alarmingly uncanny ability to know what I’m thinking before I say it.”
Tierney gave him a rare grin. “Blame it on my days as a spy for the Crown. Now tell me, what is her name?”
Nando winced. “I’m afraid I can’t recall.”
No matter how much he tried, he couldn’t summon a name to go with the lovely face. In fact, he wasn’t even certain he could remember her face. Her breasts, however, had been quite memorable. If she were to show him her ample assets once again, he would recognize her instantly.
“So many conquests that you can’t recall their names, Your Royal Highness?” Tierney guessed, his voice sharp with disapproval.
“Perhaps,” he allowed, shame creeping over him. “I may have been inebriated at the time.”
Very likely, he had been. His appetite for debauchery had known no ends since he had aimlessly drifted back to England like an autumn leaf blown from a tree. He had nowhere to belong, no one to belong to. His own kingdom didn’t need him, and his protective, commanding older brother had Tansy now. With the birth of his beloved nephew, Nando was no longer even next in line to the throne. He was, effectively, utterly useless.
“I can assemble a list for Your Royal Highness to peruse,” Tierney suggested. “Doing so may spark your memory.”
“I find it doubtful that a woman would want me to meet my untimely demise,” Nando said.
“Women are capable of treachery every bit as much as men are,” Tierney countered. “Trust me on that matter.”
“Fair enough.” Nando sighed again. “I will do my utmost to recall her name. She may have been a countess, however. Of course, there was also that delightful evening when I was accompanied by both a marchioness and a baroness.”
“The names of every titled woman in London, then,” Tierney said dourly.
