She kept batting her eyelashes, now confused. “Yes?”
Mimi batted her hands at him. “Stop it this instant,” she hissed at her brother. “He is roasting you. There is no special or secret reason behind it, really. It is his name, and everyone knows it. Leopold Klemens Alexander. Except Leopold is a name that too many carry these days. So we call him Klemens. Nothing more.”
“But Klemens is also a name that is frequent. IsMetternich not also called Klemens?” Lady Castlereagh put in.
A pained expression crossed Klemens’ face. “Do not remind me. But I am afraid that is true, yes.”
“Fascinating.” The Duchess tapped a manicured fingernail on the table. “But back to what we were discussing when you entered—can you confirm or deny the rumours that are surrounding your person these days?” She smiled sweetly. “Regarding the true state of your heart. We are so curious, you see.”
Pippa got up hastily. “With your permission, I will fetch some more hot water for the tea.”
These conversations were unbearable, unbearable!
Klemens threw her a rapid glance, then hooded his eyes quickly.
The Archduchess nodded at her.
Relieved, she fled the room.
“Archduke?” the Duchess pressed. She was relentless.
Pippa wondered what Klemens would do now to escape her clutches.
Taking a deep breath in the antechamber, she willed her heart to calm down. Then she told the maid to bring in more water and another plate of eclairs, and asked her to relay to the Archduchess that she requested to be excused, for she was not feeling well. It was perhaps cowardly of her, but it was true, for her head hurt and her nerves were stretched thin.
What she needed was some fresh air.
She pulled on her cloak and went outside.
She had barely reached the corridor when she heard footsteps behind her.
“Pippa!” He took her arm and whirled her around. “I needed to see you. Mimi said you had recovered. You do not know what I endured knowing you were ill but unable to be with you. Are you truly well?” He lifted her chin and turned it this way, then that. “You look pale. You should be in bed,” he concluded.
“I am well enough.” She pulled her head gently from his grasp. “You should return to the tea party. The ladies must be disappointed you left. Particularly—” She bit her lip.
A grin flitted across his face. “Particularly the Duchess of Sagan, you wanted to say, yes?”
Ah, why did he look so devilishly handsome when he did that? His eyes lit up, and a dimple appeared, and it should not be allowed for anyone to be so damnably handsome, Pippa thought crossly.
She pulled herself from his grasp.
“You should return to your admirers, Highness.”
“Hang my admirers.” He reached for her again and drew her closer. “Are you well, truly?”
“Perfectly well, thank you.”
“Liar,” he whispered. “You are jealous, my little dove.”
“I am not!” she flared up, heat rising into her cheeks.
He chuckled. “Ragingly jealous.” Then he sobered. “But you know all this flirtation means nothing. There is only one woman I care about, only one woman who makes my heart sing, and alas, she refuses to look at me.”
Pippa lifted her gaze. “There, I am looking at you,” she whispered. “I always do.”
The door to the drawing room opened, and voices emerged.
He released her gently. “For now, I shall let you go, my love. But, Pippa, we must talk. Soon.”
