“Of course it was. Me, a woman far past her prime, of no social standing, save what I was able to glean for myself as little better than a servant, the illegitimate daughter of a man who abandoned her and a mother who was an actress and a kept woman. And you, the handsome, dashing prince.”
His amusement fled. “I don’t like the way you speak of yourself.”
She shrugged. “It is the truth. It is also the way the world will see us, even if they never discover the truth of my parentage.”
“Well, they can all go to Beelzebub for all I care. I do what I like when it pleases me, and that extends to marrying whom I wish.”
“Will your brother not be displeased with you for making such a misalliance?” she asked, the thought occurring to her for the first time.
“It is no concern of Maxim’s whom I marry either.”
Her husband’s words were not quite the reassurance she might have hoped for.
“Have you sent word to him?”
“Not yet.” Nando offered her a bowl of hothouse berries. “Have some more, darling. You’ve scarcely eaten a thing.”
She relented, taking a strawberry. “You spoil me.”
He winked. “My motives are impure.”
Eleanora couldn’t suppress the laugh that escaped her at his unrepentant pronouncement. “I’m not sure your motives have ever been pure to begin with.”
He chuckled, the sound low and mellifluous. “I can assure you they have not. Tell me, how is it you know me so well already, having only been my wife for the span of mere hours?”
His teasing query sobered her as she swallowed the sweet, juicy bite of berry she had taken. “I scarcely know you at all. You’re quite mysterious.”
“Mysterious? That is not a word I’ve ever heard used in conjunction with myself before.”
“Perhaps that’s because everyone else accepts the face you present to them. You are Prince Nando, who takes nothing seriously, especially not himself. But beneath the charm and flirting and seducing, there is the true you, the one you hide from everyone.”
He stared at her intently, as if he were considering her words with great deliberation. For a moment, she feared he would brush her observations aside and feign ignorance. Or worse, that she had angered him.
But at last, he spoke, lifting his shoulder in an elegant shrug. “What do you wish to know?”
The answer to that was easy. Everything—that was what she wanted to know. She wanted to learn all she could about this enigmatic man she had married. She wanted to discover what had made him into the man he was. But she would begin with one question, for she didn’t know how far she could push him, how much he would reveal.
“What was young Prince Ferdinando like?” she asked, choosing an innocuous starting point.
He raised a brow. “Are you daring to suggest I am now elderly and decrepit?”
His tone was still teasing and light. She wondered if he would simply jest his way out of a serious conversation. Or seduce her until she forgot what she had asked and was too distracted by the pleasure he gave her to insist upon answers.
“Youareolder than I am,” she pointed out, keeping her voice similarly pitched—teasing, carefree.
“By three years,” he countered swiftly. “I would venture to say we are of an age, my dear.”
“Three years is rather a lot of time.”
“My brother is the ancient one,” Nando said smoothly. “He has ten years more than I do. If anyone is elderly and decrepit, it is Maxim.”
He spoke of his brother the king with undeniable fondness, and she was gratified that he hadn’t sought to sidestep the topic yet again. “You are close to him.”
“I love him.” Nando paused, smiling wistfully. “For many years, we were all we had on this earth. The Varros Great War had taken almost everyone from us. But now he has a wife and a son. He no longer has need of me, if indeed he ever did. Most, including his privy council, would suggest he didn’t. And they would probably not be wrong.”
There was a hint of hurt lacing his voice as he finished. Eleanora did not miss it.
“Is that the reason you came to London? Did his privy council send you away?”
