She brushed that witless thought aside.
“You needn’t observe,” she gritted through clenched teeth, trying not to watch as he folded his body into the couch with leonine grace and failing.
He crossed his long legs and settled into the cushions like an indolent king.
“My cousins wish me to do so,” he told her with a beautiful smile that emphasized his neat, even teeth. “Do you not, cousins?”
“Yes,” Princess Annalise said dutifully.
“Oh yes. Of course we do, cousin,” said Princess Emmaline like the hoyden she was. “Nando simply must stay, Miss Brett.”
“You see, my dear Miss Brett?” Prince Ferdinando’s smile turned smug. “I’m a fortunate man indeed, to be surrounded by such tenderhearted ladies. Carry on, I pray you. Forget I’m even here.”
As if such a feat were possible. Eleanora would be as likely to ignore an elephant bounding across the chamber, intent upon trampling them all. And if she didn’t take great care, the prince would indeed be trampling—her ability to resist him, her reputation, and her future all at once.
But he’d neatly trapped her, and not for the first time. She didn’t dare draw the suspicion of the princesses by demanding Prince Ferdinando leave. Nor did she dare gainsay them in desiring his presence during their lessons.
So, she raised her chin, took a deep, determined breath, and proceeded as if they didn’t have an audience consisting of the most maddeningly attractive man she’d ever met. One whose kisses had nearly brought her to her knees mere days before, threatening the resolve that had never once faltered in the wake of her mother’s death.
“Princess Annalise,” she said calmly, settling upon the more malleable of her two charges intentionally. “You join me first, if you please. We shall be turning our attention to your waltz since the dance is newest to you. Princess Emmaline, if you would be willing to play at the pianoforte?”
“Yes, Miss Brett,” said the latter, dutiful for possibly the first time in Eleanora’s acquaintance.
Her lack of hesitation raised Eleanora’s suspicions. She watched through narrowed eyes as the princess crossed the music room and settled herself at the pianoforte as she’d requested.
“Now, then,” Eleanora said, turning to her other charge, cursing her weakness for the breathlessness that had entered her voice, even as she applauded herself for successfully keeping her gaze from the prince occupying the Grecian couch.
“This is an excellent diversion,” Prince Ferdinando drawled. “Far preferable to watching the walls in my chamber and listening to Bruno’s dreadful attempts at providing me with amusement. Tell me, Miss Brett, do you intend to play the role of gentleman for this particular lesson?”
He was demanding her attention. She would have to look at him now, and he knew it.
With great reluctance, Eleanora glanced in the prince’s direction—fleetingly, but it was sufficient to make unwanted heat rise within her. “Yes, Your Royal Highness. I am indeed playing the role of gentleman. It is a common enough practice when no gentleman dance instructor is present. You do not object, do you?”
“Not at all,” he said, his tone mild. “I find myself rather intrigued by the notion of you taking command.”
Her stomach performed a queer little flip. She ignored it. Ignoredhim.
Deliberately, she presented Prince Ferdinando with her back as she took up her position opposite Princess Annalise, doing her best imitation of a prospective suitor. Her posture was stiff and stern. She told herself she could play the gentleman in this waltz and then cry off their dancing lesson for the remainder of the afternoon. She could easily turn her attention to singing or poetry or something Prince Ferdinando wouldn’t find so amusing a diversion.
She bowed to Princess Annalise.
“Oh no, I’m afraid that shan’t do. Not at all.”
Himagain.
Clenching her jaw, Eleanora straightened from her bow and cast a vexed glance at Prince Ferdinando. It was unfair for him to look so perfect, even with the sleeve of his wounded arm empty, a coat draped causally over his shoulders. His long legs were spread before him, crossed at the ankles.
“What is amiss, Your Royal Highness?” she asked when he didn’t elaborate on his objection.
“It is merely that a gentleman would never bow thusly,” he said with deceptive innocence. “I’m afraid you’ve done it all wrong.”
“I’ve done perfectly well,” she countered tightly, rethinking her earlier quest for a suitable weapon with which to brain him.
“There iswell, and then there isbelievably, my dear Miss Brett.” He shook his head sadly. “I’m afraid that if you want to enlighten my cousins, you must perform better than merelywell enough. Cousin Annalise has to look upon you and see a dashing, handsome duke, and that bow won’t suit at all.”
She clasped her gown at her sides in such a tight grip that it was a miracle the muslin hadn’t rent. He was playing a game with her. And before the princesses, no less. She ought not to be surprised. She’d known, almost from the moment they had met, that Prince Ferdinando was capable of anything. That he was scandalous and dangerous to all she held dear.
Fair enough. She could play his game as well as he could. Indeed, she could soundly trounce him at it.
