“Afraid?” His tone carries a lilt of indifference that is not uncommon when he speaks about his duty among people he can trust. “Nay. Do I wish every day they shall see fit to give the crown to my brother? Indeed. And if this wager brings about that very thing? Well, then we will both be winners, my friend!”
We laugh together, and I shake my head at him, then before our chuckles of mirth completely die away, we break into laughter anew. I have never understood the Prince’s detachment from his birthright. Perhaps now that I have a title of my own, I will in time understand him better.
“And so?” my friend asks at last, still chuckling. “Have you even spoken to the lady? Pray, tell me your proposal will not cause her to faint in shock.”
“Regrettably, I have not,” I admit. “I did endeavor to be in her company for some time. I made it known I was looking for invitations—” I grimace at the memory, causing His Highness further mirth. “You can imagine howthatdelighted the Beau Monde. And yet, very few did not honor me with an invitation. I attended each one—every party, every ball, in hopes she would also be in attendance.”
“And?” His Highness leans forward, intrigued.
I shrug once more. “When she was not present, I stayed long enough to be polite, eat my fill, and take my leave. When she was, I watched her. I made note of whom she spoke with, her countenance, and such things.”
“It sounds to me that you are quite mad, Gregor.” He claps my shoulder in a display of mock sympathy.
“I thought so too. I still think so,” I admit, “but nothing I did seemed to make it stop. It was almost as though I had become taken by a fever. No matter how long I watched her, she was never far from my thoughts. The lady is nearly the first on my mind each morning, the last each night. It has been most disconcerting.”
“I can scarcely imagine.”
“And now, I know there is but one thing I can do to resolve the matter.”
“You think that to be marriage?”
I can hardly blame my friend for being skeptical. If I were in his shoes, I would no doubt feel the same.
“I cannot think of anything else,” I acknowledge. “If she were any other woman, I would bed her and be done with it.”
“Alas, she is a highborn lady,” the Prince remarks.
“Indeed.”
“Perhaps she will not wish to wed you. What then?”
I utter a laugh. “You are determined to vex me this evening, Your Highness.”
“Not at all. I merely suggest that perhaps a title is not all you need to win the lady.”
Whether he intends to vex me or no, he speaks the truth in this matter as well. My family is not as well-regarded as the Denhams, and the gift of a title does not change the fact of my lineage. My reputation of being something of a rake is also something to contend with.
“I have to hope it is enough,” I say at last. “I no longer enjoy the company of a woman for being besieged by thoughts of Lady Denham.”
“You mean to say you do not frequent the brothels any longer? Iamimpressed.”
I snort. “I did not say that I do not visit them any longer, only that I do not enjoy it.” At that, we both laugh.
It is most unusual—upon concocting what I believed to be a wild scheme to win the Lady Freya’s hand, I have thought of little else. I have imagined if I ever managed to succeed at it, I would feel nothing but the purest of joy. Or, relief at the very least. I have felt a flash of both, but those now pale in comparison to the stark reality that settles upon me.
As the Prince points out, having the title is but a first step. Truthfully, I scarcely know what to do next. I am not accustomed to feeling so ill at ease, and for the hundredth time, I feel certain I shall know peace only once I have wed and bedded the lady. What a pity that she is highborn and I must seal myself to her in order to be free of the spell she casts.
“Send flowers,” the Prince says, breaking me from my thoughts.
“Flowers?”
“Yes, of course. It will make your intentions known, and who knows? Perhaps her parents will see to an introduction.”
I nod, relieved to have some semblance of a plan. “I am indebted to you once more, it seems, with no ability to repay your kindness.”
“Oh, I feel certain I shall think of something.” His smile flashes again, more impish than royal. “May I offer you a word of warning, Your Grace?”
“I shall consider myself most honored to hear it.”
