It was her obligation to pretend as if she delighted in every moment of her duties. Even if she didn’t.
The princess wrinkled her nose, quite as if she’d scented something dreadful. “Dancing?”
“Surely not more dancing today,” Princess Annalise added in a more polite manner. “Perhaps it might wait for tomorrow. My sister and I are both sufficiently taxed from our outing to the modiste.”
Eleanora knew the feeling. However, there was an important ball growing ever nearer, and Princess Anastasia had been firm on the need to teach her sisters the steps so held dear by the fashionable set in London. Apparently, their uncle had not seen fit to allow their dancing master to teach them anything other than traditional Boritanian steps. The result had been disastrous. At least, according to Princess Anastasia. The princesses had learned the waltz and a handful of dances here in London, but their movements were far from refined, assured, and elegant.
“I’m sure you are quite tired,” Eleanora allowed softly. “However, the ball honoring your family is but a few weeks away. You will wish to be as prepared as possible, will you not?”
“You mean to say thatour sisterwould have us as prepared as possible,” Emmaline countered as they moved to the music room, where there was sufficient space for Eleanora to play the pianoforte and the princesses to master their steps. “Staying in London is hardly what either of us wishes to do. Learning the steps seems a moot point when we’ll be returning to our home in Boritania soon enough. Is that not right, Annalise?”
Princess Annalise looked torn as she considered her response. “Perhaps we might remain, at least until the Season’s end.”
Emmaline made a dismissive sound. “Pfft. You only wish to remain for the Season because of the Duke of Lockhart.”
The Duke of Lockhart? Alarm settled over Eleanora, for the duke’s reputation was as black as Prince Ferdinando’s.
She cast a concerned, searching glance in Princess Annalise’s direction. “I have yet to see the Duke of Lockhart at a proper social event this Season. Have the two of you been introduced?”
There was a flash of something in the princess’s eyes, there and gone before Eleanora could decipher what it was. “Of course not. My sister is being silly.”
Eleanora studied the princess, wondering if it was possible that the twin she’d believed least likely to cause trouble was secretly the most capable of causing it. Because the Duke of Lockhart was most certainly not a suitable match. The rumors swirling around him were nothing short of shocking.
“You would do best to keep your distance from the duke, Your Royal Highness,” Eleanora cautioned sternly, worry for her charge taking root. “He is a dangerous man.”
“He doesn’t look dangerous,” Princess Annalise said, doing nothing to ameliorate the fears growing within Eleanora.
An innocent like the princess would be no match for a depraved man like the Duke of Lockhart.
“The most dangerous ones never do. Pray trust my judgment on the matter, Your Royal Highness,” she urged.
“Your judgment is always impeccable, Miss Brett,” Princess Annalise said with an innocent smile.
No, her judgment was dreadful, which was why she had spent half the evening before in the presence of one of the most notorious libertines alive, Eleanora thought grimly. But in this instance, she was not wrong about Lockhart, and Princess Annalise would do well to stay far, far from the man. He would devour a naïve girl like her without compunction, debauch her, and then leave her. The man had no soul, and his depravity knew no bounds.
“Thank you, Your Royal Highness,” she managed, hoping that the princess was not merely saying what she believed Eleanora wanted to hear and that she was truly taking her warnings to heart.
Princess Annalise’s future depended on it. But not just hers—Eleanora’s did as well. She needed to leave each circumstance with an irreproachable record of success. Anything less would jeopardize what she had worked so diligently to build these last few years.
“Miss Brett?”
The voice of her employer, Princess Anastasia, intruded upon Eleanora’s thoughts. She looked over her shoulder to find the princess hastening down the hall in their wake. Her expression was one of pinched consternation, and for a moment, Eleanora’s stomach felt as if it were upended. Had she done something to displease the princess? Or worse, had someone discovered she had inadvertently fallen asleep in Prince Ferdinando’s chamber last night?
“Your Royal Highness,” she greeted demurely, dipping into a curtsy in deference, hoping she only exuded calm poise and none of the guilty fear plaguing her.
“Might I have a word with you?” Princess Anastasia asked.
“Of course.” Eleanora presumed the request meant that they ought to leave the earshot of the younger twin princesses. “Where would you prefer to have it, Your Royal Highness?”
“The drawing room shall do nicely. Annalise and Emmaline, why do you not retire to your rooms?” Princess Anastasia requested, giving her sisters a pointed look.
“But we were going to practice our dancing,” Princess Annalise objected, pouting.
“You may practice that later,” Princess Anastasia said. “Now, run along, the two of you. There are some matters that I must attend with Miss Brett.”
“In private?” Princess Emmaline asked with a knowing grin. “If you’re going to be speaking about us, it is only fair that we remain.”
The princess’s stubborn nature once more emerged. Eleanora wasn’t surprised.
