I choked on nothing, and she merely grinned. Aunt Sarah was just as determined as Margaret to get me to tap into my sexual side, even knowing the true reason I ran to Emarvia in the first place. More than afew times, there have been random, admittedly attractive, young men visiting my aunt for various—unconvincing—reasons during our Sunday dinners. She, like Margaret, also keeps my TBR stacked with smut books, often slipping one or two into my bag on my way out each week.
“You’re young and beautiful, Aurelia,” she always says. “You should be out there breaking hearts across the country. It’s the twenty-first century, women are allowed to sow their wild oats, too.”
My skin prickles in the cold, the wind off the bay cutting through the narrow streets of the capital as I run. I match my breathing to the even cadence of my shoes on the pavement. It is too familiar, and my mind begins to wander.
Flashes from my brief encounter with HRH Prince Friedrich play over in my head. Those shocking blue eyes under fierce eyebrows. Cheekbones that could cut glass and a jawline covered by a short, well-kept beard. My palm tingles at the memory of the warmth of his hand in mine. My body’s reaction to his lips on my hand. And that voice, god that voice! Deep like a rumble of thunder in the distance. And an accent smooth and rippling like the endless green hills of the countryside.I am so hopelessly American, getting all worked up over a pretty boy with an accent.
I push my body harder, forcing myself to focus on my legs. My lungs scream in the cold air, and at last all other thought is driven away by my need to push on.
I think I might drop dead when I reach the frontsteps at Granbury House. The Georgian townhouse had been donated by an imprudent lord looking for a tax break, and it came with all the struggles of an ill-kept, centuries-old building. Ducking under scaffolding, I trudge up the front steps and into the drafty foyer. I’m glad of my downstairs room as my legs continue to protest.
I used to treat myself to a long soak in a hot bath after such a punishing run, but my time is limited these days, and there are no tubs in the dormitory anyway. My skin prickles in shock as I step into the hot spray of the shower, the weak pressure not enough to massage away the soreness already settling in.
My hair is still a bit damp when I pull it into a tight bun at the nape of my neck. I straighten my navy calf-length dress after I take my seat on the bus. The Merryton uniform, while sharp and professional, is hardly conducive to chasing children, but I totally rock the Mary Poppins getup.
Traffic is minimal so early in the morning, and the bus ride from my dormitory to the Maier’s neighborhood is scarcely long enough for more than a couple chapters of the spicy hockey book from Margaret, but I’ll take whatever free moments I have to immerse myself in the romance I don’t get in real life.
I’m surprised to see Lord Maier sitting at the small round table in the kitchen and sipping coffee from an actual ceramic mug when I arrive at the house. I always pass him on his way out in the mornings, a metal tumbler full of black coffee in one hand andbriefcase in the other as he scurries down the walk to the detached garage.
“Ah, Aurelia,” he says, lowering his newspaper. “Glad I could catch you.”
“Good morning, sir.” I give a slight nod to the earl and head to the refrigerator to gather ingredients for the children’s breakfast.
“An opportunity has arisen.” He takes a slow sip of his coffee as if pausing for dramatic effect. “Lord Bertram would like the families of his senior staffers to travel with him for his victory tour this week. Three days, really.”
Three days off? What am I going to do with three days off?
I almost miss the rest of the proposition while musing about free time as I begin frying eggs and bacon. “Of course, I’d speak with the dean for her permission, but would you be willing to come along and care for the children while Lady Maier and I attend some of the more formal events?”
This is an unexpected turn. “You want me to go with you on a trip?”
Lord Maier waves a dismissive hand. “A work trip, mind you. I’m sure it will be rather dull on your end.”
“Not at all!” I beam. This is a whole new level of trust—going away with a family, being responsible for the children in new settings outside the home, and all day too.
“The children love you, and Rebecca is quite fond of you. And you’ll have decent accommodations. A fewnannies were present when I went on my first tour five years ago, and they seemed to enjoy themselves.”
“Sir, you don’t need to convince me.” I try to contain my excitement, focusing instead on not burning the bacon. “I’m in.”
“Wonderful.” He folds up his paper and throws back the last of his coffee. “I’ll speak with the dean today and have the details for you tonight.” He is almost out of the kitchen when he turns back. “Oh, and my mother and sister are coming in from England for the princess trials. They’ll be arriving on Thursday while we are away. Would you mind having sheets washed for their beds so the housekeeper can change them when she comes by on Wednesday?”
“Of course, sir.”
“This princess search racket is going to draw quite the crowd,” he mutters as he leaves.
I had managed to keep my mind from the prince since the middle of my run this morning, but now my thoughts drift back to the handsome man who had made my stomach flip and pulse quicken. I can’t remember the last time someone made my body react in such a way. It’s mildly terrifying.
