Page 75 of Her Royal Houseguest

Of course she would try. She tried every day. And she failed every day. This room was proof of that. ‘I couldn’t bear to do that to you,’ she whispered. Then she squared her shoulders. ‘Dinner will be served soon. I should go freshen up.’

He dipped his chin, acknowledging her in the Siamese way. Odd how she used to see that as arrogant or imperious. Now she simply thought it appropriate.

‘I will go as well,’ he said. ‘I need to have words with my brother.’

‘Then, um, I suppose I’ll see you soon.’

‘Yes. When we will set the schedule for how we will help one another.’

She frowned, her thoughts too scattered to understand.

‘I would like dancing lessons,’ he offered.

‘Oh!’

‘I want to see how servants are hired in England.’

‘And you need English clothing.’

‘Or at least less Siamese.’

‘Good. Yes. We can discuss that over dinner.’

And then—inexplicably—emotion overcame her. Tears sprang to her eyes and her throat closed down. She didn’t want to move to Siam. She didn’t want to leave everything and everyone she knew. She was English. And she had a dower cottage in the Cotswolds waiting for her very quiet, very boring life as a spinster.

She wanted that, didn’t she? And yet watching him quietly put the parlour back into order—at least as much order as had been there before—she felt her heart break into a thousand pieces.

‘At dinner, then,’ she said with the last of her breath. Then she fled. By the time dinner was ready, she had become a true coward. She sent down her regrets and hid in her room until dawn.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Deva had a decision to make. He was not a man to second-guess himself but in this he was completely at sea.

Politically, marrying Lady Anna would be a good alliance. He would tout her as a royal bride and use her as a symbol of the future. Her English face would show that Siam had a place among the European royals. And he would be at her side bringing his country into prominence.

That was why he had proposed at the beginning.

But now he knew her better. Now he understood the way she doubted herself at every turn. She had been criticised since birth, labelled as cursed and had every mistake magnified. He had seen shy girls in the harem destroyed in a manner of weeks. Anna would be ripped apart within days.

She needed the self-confidence of a queen to survive Siamese politics. And though he could use her as a figurehead no matter what her mental state, it would destroy him to watch her crumple when the harpies in the Siamese court attacked.

He could not do that to her, which meant he ought to forget her. His focus should be on the coming negotiations, not on the happiness of a single English girl.

But he could not turn away. He enjoyed her company, her lively mind and the way her laugh filled his heart with joy. No woman had ever made him so content nor sparked his kway so incessantly. That had never happened to him before and he was loathe to let it go.

So he took the time to build her confidence in every way possible. He did this by humbling his royalty before her, letting her direct him in every way. It was only logical. He needed to learn the English way of doing things, and she knew these things.

‘Show me how it is done,’ he commanded. And she complied.

He sat with her as she interviewed candidates for butler and housekeeper. And, though he itched to interfere, he allowed her to lead. In the end, she chose an Irish housekeeper with a sweet smile and a German butler who treated her with respect. He did not think they were good choices, believing the woman to be too chatty and the man too stiff. But Anna integrated them into the household quickly and soon the house was functioning well.

He made sure to compliment her then, and—once—he even admitted that she had chosen better than he would have.

Next, he allowed her to manage his wardrobe. He thought English clothing was stifling but allowed her to choose everything from the choking cravat all the way down to polished shoes that pinched. When she realised he would not argue with any of her selections, she began to test him. She put him in shirt points that poked his jaw and wools that itched.

‘What do you think?’ she pressed.

‘I rely on you,’ he answered.