Heat instantly suffused Eleanora’s face as she remembered what it had felt like, being held by him, dancing so near to his tempting heat and strong, masculine form. And then, before she could banish it completely, the thought of his kisses returned.
Swiftly, she tamped down all such forbidden yearnings. They were impossible, foolish, and improbable. If she wanted to keep a roof over her head and continue providing London’s wealthiest aristocrats and merchants with her services, then she most certainly needed to forget the dance and those kisses both had ever happened.
“His Royal Highness was kind enough to offer his assistance in showing the princesses the proper steps for the dance,” she offered lamely.
What a dull, cool way to describe what had happened between them. That which mustnever, everhappen again.
“How unexpectedly charitable of him,” Princess Stasia said, her tone verging on mocking.
“His Royal Highness doesn’t strike me as a particularly uncharitable gentleman,” Eleanora found herself saying, much to her horror.
How and why had she come to that rogue’s defense with such haste and ease?
“Miss Brett,” the princess began, placing a hand on Eleanora’s arm in entreaty. “Must I call you Miss Brett? I feel as if we are friends now, you and I. Perhaps we might dispense with formality, and I may call you Eleanora, whilst you shall call me Stasia.”
It was not the first time Princess Anastasia had made the request. That Eleanora, the daughter of one of London’s mostnotorious courtesans, should be the friend of a princess was nothing short of preposterous. And yet, the princess was looking at her with an open candor and kindness.
“I fear it would be unwise,” she protested again out of duty.
“Then allow me to be the unwise one amongst us, Eleanora,” Stasia said with a conspiratorial smile. “I insist.”
Eleanora hadn’t a choice in the matter. But she couldn’t deny it—eschewing the strict protocols she had allowed for herself wouldn’t be entirely hateful. Even if it did remind her of the carefree girl she’d once been.
“If you insist,” she allowed at last, and not without reluctance.
“Excellent.” The princess linked her arm through Eleanora’s and began guiding her to the windows overlooking the town house’s gardens. “I feel it’s important for us to be friends, given the nature of the warning I’m pressed to give you now.”
The warning?
That didn’t sound promising.
“I’m afraid I don’t understand, Your Royal Highness,” she protested gently.
“Stasia,” the princess reminded her firmly. “You simplymustcall me Stasia, for we are friends now, which also means it is imperative that I warn you about Nando.”
It would seem that the entire household was familiar with the prince. Eleanora didn’t want that to rankle nearly as much as it did.
“A warning about His Royal Highness? I cannot think of why.”
Heavens, how she hated deception. She’d always been a dreadful liar, even if her livelihood required it.
“His reputation is terribly wicked,” the princess continued. “The gossip I heard about him at court in Varros and here in London is the sort that ought never to be repeated.”
“Although it ill-becomes me, I’ll admit that I have heard some whispers myself, concerning the prince,” she said, choosing her words with care. “I hope you do not fear I will conduct myself in any manner other than with strict adherence to propriety. I shall make certain to banish His Royal Highness from all future dance lessons during his tenure here.”
The princess patted her arm gently. “You need never fear that your conduct is being called into question. Quite the opposite. Rather, it is Nando’s I fear. He is notoriously unruly, and I’m afraid he has taken an interest in you.”
Why, oh why, did those last few words fill Eleanora with such intense and frenzied longing?
She swallowed hard against the rush of feelings she must never indulge, regardless of the temptation. “His Royal Highness scarcely even takes note of my existence.”
“He favors you.” The princess’s voice was as shrewd as her gaze. “I have seen the way he looks at you, Eleanora, and I well understand the allure. You are lovely, intelligent, and generous of spirit. To a man like him, a paragon such as you must make an intriguing challenge. However, I fear the danger he presents to you. He is handsome and charming, and he could likely seduce even the paper-hangings off the walls.”
Eleanora bit her lip to keep a wild chuckle from escaping her. If only the princess knew the astounding accuracy of her words.
They had long since stopped before the windows, where the world beyond was gray and bleak, rain dripping steadily down the panes in fat droplets that made a rhythmic sound.
“I don’t want him to hurt you,” the princess added, her tone gentling. “Nando is the sort of man who acts first and considers the consequences afterward. Often, only when it is too late.”
