“I'm sure Ms. Fontaine's background was thoroughly vetted."
There's something about the way she emphasizes the word “background" that has my eyes sliding to Fabiana. Her back is as straight as a rod, her jaw tense.
Miranda Thorne is clearly bothering her.
“Well, I should let you get back to your evening, sir. Ms. Fontaine, I do hope we'll have a chance to chat more. I'd love to compare notes sometime,” she simpers.
As she moves away, I say, "You’ve got a fan.”
“You think?” she asks with a sardonic smile as her eyes follow Miranda retreating through the crowd.
We’re called to dinner, and I don’t analyze my disappointment too deeply when I note I’m not sitting beside Fabiana. She’s across the table from me and a couple of chairs down.
Lady Pemberton, seated to my left, is regaling me with stories about her prize-winning roses, and I nod at appropriate intervals, all the while keeping one eye on Fabiana. She’s talking with Carrington Belvedere, a philanthropist who seems to have forgotten the "anonymous" part of giving, and Lord Busoni, whose hearing aid I know from experience is more decorative than functional.
"Such an interesting young lady," Lady Pemberton chirps, following my gaze. "Though I do hope she's not planning to write anything unnecessary about tonight's dinner. She does have a habit of doing that.”
“You’re right,” I say as I take a bite of my salmon.
“My grandson showed me how to watch her videos. She’s quite clever, actually."
I nearly choke on my wine. Lady Pemberton watches TikTok? "She's very professional," I manage to say.
“I liked the archery one, although I was disappointed she didn’t have a try herself,”
“Oh, she did.”
“Really? Good for her.”
I try to listen in on what Fabiana and Belvedere are talking about.
"The prince looks like a very proficient archer," I hear Belvedere say. Of course he watched the archery video, too. If the eighty-year-old Lady Pemberton can tear herself away from her roses long enough to watch it, I imagine most people in the room tonight did, too.
But they only saw what Fabiana shared. They don’t know what transpired between us as I guided her bow and arrow, how I nearly gave in to temptation to kiss her. How being so close to her had messed with my mind.
What started as merely physical attraction seems as though it’s building into something more, and I’m not quite sure how to handle it.
“You must remember that what the royal family needs is dignity and respect, not trending hashtags," I hear Belvedere say to Fabiana, loud enough that it was clearly designed for an audience.
I tell myself I’m only listening in out of interest, but it runs deeper than that.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she replies smoothly.
Lady Pemberton pats my arm, pulling my attention. “It's rather sweet how you keep glancing over at Ms. Fontaine. Are you quite certain this arrangement is purely professional?"
My brain short-circuits. “I'm sorry,what did you say?”
"Oh, don't look so panicked, Your Royal Highness. I might be a lot older than you, but I know attraction when I see it. The question is whether you’ve acted on your feelings.”
I stare at her, not quite sure how to respond to this woman who seems suddenly more soothsayer than rose enthusiast-slash-TikTok-watcher.
“It's... complicated,” I say weakly, even though it’s the honest truth.
Developing a thing for Fabiana? That’s a disaster waiting to happen, and one I didn’t expect. I feel a pull to her that I’m finding increasingly difficult to resist, and now I’m listening in on her conversations over dinner and watching her every move.
What the heck is wrong with me?
Lady Pemberton winks at me. Winks! “Complicated? The best things usually are, my dear boy.”
