“No.”
Katarina leans over my lap, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “He’s like that with me too.”
Ken cracks the smallest smirk, even as his eyes flit over the intimacy of our position. Her elbow comes to my knee, speaking of an intimacy we do not share. Is she taunting me or him?
I glare at her, my fiercest, but unlike Ken, she doesn’t bat an eye. In fact, she gives me an angelic smile in return.
“I for one would adore hearing about Lady Sarah Wincester,” she adds, her smile growing broader. “How are her tea-serving skills?”
“Excellent,” Ken replies quickly, sounding truly enthusiastic. “And her bloodlines are impeccable.”
“Impeccable bloodlines?” Katarina repeats. “Is there a picture?”
“Of her bloodlines?” Ken looks perplexed. “Of course.”
“Sexy,” Katarina coughs into her hand, giving me a side eye. I only deepen my scowl in return.
Ken is scowling now too, his eyes narrowing on Katarina. It’s official. She’s teasing us both.
She wiggles her eyebrows, like this is the most amusing conversation she’s ever heard. At least everyone has ceased speaking.
I open the folder to find that Lady Sarah Wincester’s family heritage is, in fact, the first document.
I flip to the second.
There I find her studio photograph. I close the file, shuffling it to the bottom.
Katarina sits back in her seat. “I’d love to see her family tree.”
“No.”
“Will…” Ken pauses, “Kat be joining the event tomorrow evening?”
“No.”
But at the exact same moment, Katarina answers, “Yes.”
I’ve already tried scowling to little effect. So, I give a loud rumble of dissent. “This is not an event for family or friends.”
“What kind of event is it, exactly, that women you wish to marry will be assembled?”
She doesn’t need to know any of this, and if Ken hadn’t stepped out of bounds... “None of?—”
But Ken cuts me off, his hard stare on Katarina. “His Grace is the most eligible bachelor in all of England. Maybe the world.”
“So they will line up and…”
“Present themselves.”
Are they seriously talking about me like I’m not even here?
“Enough.” My voice reverberates with enough force that Ken jumps back. Katarina does not.
In fact, humor dances in her eyes. “Do they know that despite your wealth and looks, you’re actually an ogre? And not the heart-of-gold kind like Shrek.”
My mouth gapes open. Is she actually talking to me this way? No one, and I mean no one, speaks to me like this. Well. Maybe my brothers. But not that often.
But Ken mumbles under his breath. “Oh, they know.”
