Eleanora winced at the princess’s reference to being trained like little dogs, which was hardly what she hoped for her charges and yet undoubtedly what it must feel like to them. Particularly after the repression they had faced in their own kingdom. To finally be enjoying liberties long denied them, only to have to be molded into the precise image of womanly virtue thetonexpected must have been a shock to their sensibilities.
She smiled tightly, hoping her expression was encouraging rather than severe. “Her Royal Highness doesn’t wish for me to train you, but toguideyou. To ease your presence in the oft-dizzying social whirl.”
Princess Annalise blinked. “To keep us from further horrifying the lords and ladies of London, you mean to say, Miss Brett.”
It was the first time any of her charges had directly discussed her role, and Eleanora could privately admit that the conversation was causing her rather a lot of discomfiture. Mostly because she knew the depths of irony involved in someonelike herself now guiding noble ladies through polite society. If anyone who had procured her sought-after services had the slightest knowledge of her past, they would dismiss her without a moment’s hesitation.
Her past work and successes, combined with her faultless reputation, wouldn’t be sufficient to atone. Nothing and no one would save her from a terrifying end of penury and obscurity. She would simply cease to exist to all who had once heartily embraced her. And without the significant coin she was able to command from the wealthiest nobles and cits in London for her services, she would be cast to the streets. Forced to sell the last thing of value she possessed—herself.
Thrusting that terrifying thought aside, Eleanora hastened to reassure Princess Annalise. “Your Royal Highness, neither of you could horrify anyone. I am merely present to act as a guide. Think of me as the grease in the pan—a facilitator, rather than the lovely dish which is brought to the table and laid before all the guests.”
“I wouldn’t wish to think of you as grease, Miss Brett,” Emmaline said, frowning. “How dreadful. You’re far too lovely to be something so common and unappealing.”
“It was a figure of speech, my dear,” she said gently, inwardly tamping down any hint of her former vanity that made her want to preen at the young royal’s words.
Shewascommon, and there was no changing that. And for the last few years, she had done everything she could to make herself as unappealing as possible. Particularly after she’d been forced to introduce her knee to the Earl of Walcot’s nether region when the roué had ventured to her private chamber late one evening. Her resultant dismissal had been both expected and infuriating. She had been fortunate he hadn’t pressed his unwanted attentions. Some women in service, she knew, were not so lucky.
“A figure of speech?” Princess Annalise asked, her expression perplexed. “Who is that?”
The princesses’ mastery of the English language sometimes made it easy for Eleanora to forget that it wasn’t their native tongue. Here was the second reminder in less than one quarter hour.
“Not a person, Your Royal Highness,” she advised softly. “Rather, the phrase means that one is using words in a different sense than the expected. I don’t mean to compare myself to grease, not truly. I only meant to say that you should think of me as someone present in your life to aid you. Not to keep you from horrifying anyone.”
Although, in truth, that was part of it. However, Eleanora hadn’t been able to earn her bread over the last few years by telling anyone the truth. She certainly had no intention of beginning now.
“I see.” Princess Annalise regarded her gravely. “But I do not think I like these speech figures of yours, Miss Brett.”
Eleanora was accustomed to choosing her battles, which was why she didn’t bother to correct the princess a second time. “The English language is remarkably peculiar, Your Royal Highness. I shan’t argue about that. Now, then. I do believe we have thoroughly exhausted the subject, and I’ve been most remiss in today’s lesson. Shall we continue?”
“Only if I can remain in my trousers,” Princess Emmaline said, her expression mulish.
“Whilst you are in Her Royal Highness’s household, and as she sees fit, you may dress however your heart desires,” she said smoothly.
“Not at balls, however?” the princess wanted to know.
Good heavens, Eleanora was beginning to develop a headache.
“Not at balls,” she confirmed. “The gowns we have commissioned will suit quite elegantly for such a purpose.”
“It is a wonder anyone chooses to live here,” Princess Emmaline sniffed. “All this dreadful rain, a dearth of sun and warmth, and women cannot even wear trousers.”
“Undoubtedly you will grow accustomed to it when you are here long enough,” Eleanora said with a hopeful tone. “I promise you that, aside from our peculiar notions of dress, it is a reasonably civilized society.”
That was a lie, of course. Polite society was neither reasonable nor civilized, but no need to frighten the princesses. They had already endured enough heartache in their homeland. They were yet young and naïve, and their royal bloodlines suggested they would never need to learn the truth.
“Peculiar notions of dress?”
The smooth, silken voice coming from behind Eleanora was as unexpected as it was familiar. And her body’s unwanted reaction to it was the same. Heat curled through her, lingering low in her belly.
Prince Ferdinando.
Eleanora whirled about to face him, forgetting herself for a moment as she was faced with the portrait of beautiful elegance he presented. Golden hair swept from his high forehead and worn in perfect curls, his cheekbones sharper than blades, his bright-blue eyes searing her to her soul as he gazed upon her as if she were the sole occupant of the room.
“My dear Miss Brett, whatever nonsense are you instilling in my dear cousins?” he drawled, strolling deeper into the drawing room as if he had been invited to join them.
He decidedly had not.
His nearness and audacity jolted her from her stupor. She dipped into a curtsy.
