“I’m honored, Your Royal Highness.” I was also leery, given his reputation. Why had he asked me to sit next to him when protocol dictated the seating arrangements?
Fifteen footmen appeared from the butler’s pantry door, steaming bowls of soup in their white gloved hands. One of them placed a bowl in front of the prince first, and then the rest of us were served.
“I’m very curious about you, Miss Hill,” the prince said, lifting his spoon from the table. “You seem to have taken the London season by storm in such a short amount of time. Where are you from?”
With all pretense gone, I could tell him the truth. “New York City. I was raised in a neighborhood called Five Points.”
He frowned as he dipped his spoon into the soup, signaling for the rest of us to begin eating. “I’ve never heard of the place.”
“Not many have. It’s quite unpleasant and most people choose to avoid it.”
“Quite so.” He took a sip of the tomato bisque and raised his eyebrows in delight. “Delicious.”
Aunt Maude was at the other end of the table, but I saw her watching closely. Not only did the meal need to go off without a hitch, but we could not bore him, with the food or the conversation.
“I learned from the newspapers that you were adopted by Mrs. Hill,” he continued. “Is that true?”
“Yes, just recently.”
“Fascinating. I rarely hear of an adult being adopted. Is that an American thing?”
“I couldn’t say.”
“And your parents?” he asked, his gaze filled with avid interest.
How did I explain my parents?
“I was given to my aunt and uncle as an infant, Your Highness. I’m afraid I know very little about my parents.”
“How unfortunate.” He frowned. “Were you born in New York?”
“No.” This, at least, was easy to explain. “I was born right here in London but left soon after. I’ve come home, in a way.”
He no longer seemed merely interested, his curiosity going deeper. “And your aunt and uncle took you to New York?”
“Yes.” I tasted my soup, and it was warm and tangy on my tongue. I was about to include the duke in the conversation when the prince posed another question.
“What does your uncle do for a living?”
Question after question kept his attention on me for most of the meal. Lady Mandeville had said he enjoyed American women, and it was apparent that she was right. He asked me about America, about my childhood growing up in tenement housing, and how I had come to live with Aunt Maude. Not once did he drum his fingers on the table.
The meal lasted for two hours, and rarely did I have the opportunity to talk to the duke. He sat quietly to my left, eating his meal. He did not engage in conversation with the woman to his left, though she made several attempts.
“I very much enjoyed my visit to America in 1860,” the prince said. “I was only eighteen years old, but it made a lasting impression. I do believe I was the first British monarch to visit North America. I’m thankful I went before the War Between the States, or I might never have gone.”
He recounted his trip, arriving in Newfoundland, touring Canada, and then visiting the United States, including a tour of President George Washington’s home at Mount Vernon. I had never been to any of the places he mentioned, except New York City. But I listened with rapt attention. He was a great orator and he loved it when I asked him questions.
“You really must see Chicago,” he said to me. “That’s in Illinois.”
I nodded, though I didn’t tell him I was aware of where Chicago was located.
“You really are remarkably beautiful,” he said, abruptly changing the subject and leaning on the armrest to get a good look at me.
My neck grew warm under his scrutiny, but I tried not to squirm and look uncomfortable. All the rumors about his infidelity filled my mind.
He glanced at the Duke of Severton for the first time. “Is this the young man you plan to marry?”
Surprised at the bold comment, I shared a look with the duke, but neither of us spoke.
