Page 24 of Her Royal Houseguest

‘Firmly on the shelf after this Season.’ And when he didn’t understand her words, she shrugged. ‘Yes, for the most part, I have stopped.’

He shook his head. ‘This, I do not understand. You have wealth and excellent beauty, except for your teeth. All you need is a worthwhile occupation. That will come with children.’

Would it? It was hard to think that children would solve her boredom problem. She’d spent a great deal of time with children over the years. They were certainly entertaining for a time but within an hour she was looking for something else to occupy her mind.

Then she frowned, her hand going to her mouth. ‘What is wrong with my teeth?’

‘They are too white. Such a thing cannot be healthy. We darken our teeth with betel nuts to protect them.’

Her eyes widened as she looked to his mouth. His teeth were indeed darker than hers but not in the way of illness. She had assumed it was a natural part of his anatomy, similar to his slightly sloped nose and the golden tan of his skin.

‘Teeth are supposed to be white,’ she said.

‘And feet are supposed to be uncovered.’

She looked at him, seeing for the first time how beliefs could be nonsensical. Hers as well as his. ‘You coat your teeth in the way that we wear shoes?’

‘For protection. Yes.’

‘But you don’t wear shoes inside because…’

‘The protection stays outside with the dirt that covers it. Inside the home should be clean.’

She understood his logic, even if it was not what the English believed. He gave her a self-conscious shrug.

‘My feet are never cold in Siam.’ He looked at the wood floor. ‘England is different. I see the logic of wearing footwear inside here.’

‘We do have slippers or thick stockings. I cannot imagine going barefoot in winter.’ She shuddered for effect.

It worked. He grinned at her, and now she was studying his teeth. Or maybe it was his mouth. Or maybe it was the effect of his dark eyes lightening when he smiled.

Then he sobered. ‘I meant no insult when I spoke about your books.’

‘I know you didn’t,’ she conceded. ‘Nevertheless, it was rude to assume you know more about me than I do.’

He dipped his head in acknowledgement. ‘I apologise.’ Two words that royals rarely uttered.

‘It was nothing.’ She pushed to her feet, feeling too self-conscious to remain slouched on the floor like a child. ‘I expect I will insult you a dozen times tomorrow but I, too, will not mean it.’

He chuckled as he looked up from where he crouched. ‘You have done it already,’ he said, his tone light. ‘But I am learning to be tolerant.’

‘Oh?’

He pointed to her head. ‘Your head should not be higher than mine. I am a royal prince.’

‘Really?’ she said, dropping her hands onto her hips. ‘How peculiar. So if you are on the floor—’

‘Then you must also be on the floor, your head lowered below mine.’

‘Goodness, that must be awkward for your servants. How do they serve you?’

‘If I am sitting? On their knees.’

‘How painful!’ Then she flashed him an impudent look. ‘And you, Prince Deva, are insulting me right now.’

His eyes widened in shock. ‘How have I done so?’

‘It is customary in England that when a lady stands, so do the gentlemen.’