Page 31

Setting my shoulders back, I slid the mask of indifference back on, making a poignant effort to remain unfazed. Pivoting on my heels, I spun, only to knock right into a broad chest. My drink crashed in a wave onto the perfectly tailored light linen suit of—Prince Nicholas.

My mouth formed an “o” shape, and I brought my hands up in submission. “I am so sorry, sir, prince sir, Nicholas.” I shook my head, trying to rattle some clarity loose in my brain through the panic. One wave of his hand and I could be apprehended by guards, my sister’s reputation destroyed by my clumsiness.

Before he responded, clanking metal stole my attention. Four or five guards moved swiftly to meet us without instruction. The prince raised his hand, and I tensed, closing my eyes, waiting for the jostling grip of restraint. The sounds of metal silenced, leaving the room waiting with bated breath.

I winked one eye open in time to see Prince Nicholas address the growing concern. “Please, everyone, minor spill, nothing to fret over. Return to your posts and to your seats, please,” he said with regal grace and insistence that nobody dared disagree with.

My sisters were both standing, outrage on Kenzie’s face and concern on Melody’s. They heard the prince and lowered themselves onto their chairs. The prince’s gaze met mine. He spoke in a hushed manner, attempting to give our conversation some privacy, though no one in the room had resumed speaking.

“I also thought the cream was a bit boring. I wouldn’t have thought of red, though. What do you think?” He placed his hands on his hips, twisting his torso from side to side to model the splash of color I’d unceremoniously given him.

I could only blink. No words formed and my mind went blank. Standing before me, making a playful joke about my mistake, was the person I loathed most in this world. The person that could have my life ended on a whim if I did something wrong. The person I needed to help my sisters win over, for all our sakes.

The desserts wanted to find a way back out of me. I placed my hand over my stomach, trying to settle the raging storm of emotions swirling in my gut. His eyes softened, and he relaxed his arms.

“Truly, it’s alright. Please, what’s your name?” An olive branch.

Peering around the room, taking a moment to consider my options, I sorely resigned myself to the idea that I had none. To dismiss his question would be treasonous at most, and rude at least. I’d never wanted to exchange words with this man, let alone reveal my name. “Nora,” I said, hating that I gave away a part of myself to him. Hating that he seemed to care at all about a frazzled chaperone and wasn’t distracting himself with fawning debutantes.

“That’s a lovely name, Nora.”

“That response is just automatic, isn’t it?” The words poured out smooth as silk before I had any inclination to stop them. Shit. My eyes snapped open wide to gauge his reaction. Parting my lips slightly, I clawed through my empty mind to select an adequate apology, but found nothing.

His eyebrows raised, but his lips tilted into a smile. “I apologize. I suppose a day of repeating formalities tends to make one a little dull. I did mean it, though.”

I had nothing to say to that. What could I say to that? I sealed my lips and targeted my shoes. This would end here and now. He might be conceited and pampered, but anyone with one functioning brain cell could see I intended to withdraw from further conversation.

“So, you are one of the chaperones. Remind me, which lady are you escorting today?” He angled himself toward the collection of tables where all the ladies had gathered since greeting him. Even if their eyes weren’t staring directly at us, I was acutely aware that they watched. Those seats were filled with jealousy, desperation, and longing. All over the man at my side, who was nothing but charming good looks wrapped in obscene wealth to cloak the selfish, arrogant, apathetic soul that lurked within.

I raised my hand, pointing a finger to the table where my sisters sat, thankful for the opportunity to divert his attention. “Miss Melody and Kenzie Burton.”

“Ah,” he said, gingerly waving in their direction with a kind smile. He, too, noted that we remained the center of attention. “So you and your husband preside over them?” He clasped his hands behind his back as he returned his full attention to me.

“Husband? I’m not married?” One ounce of effort to glance my ringless hand could confirm that. Damn it, Nora. Be cordial for gods sake. “Your Highness,” I added. Nice save.

“Oh, you’re not?” One of his eyebrows arched.

“Am I supposed to be, Your Highness?” I challenged, curiosity peaking over the insinuation.

“No, no. I just mean-it’s just that…You’re young?”

I waited for him to add something more, but the crease on his forehead told me he was still trying to work something out in his mind.

“I am.” The only response I could think to say.

“You are unmarried?”

Gods, did the other ladies today have to deal with this dimwit? “Correct.”

“But you are not attending today?” He cast a glance toward the tables.

A defiant, repulsed laugh erupted before I clamped my mouth shut. “No, Your Highness, I am not vying for your hand.” Don’t roll your eyes, don’t roll your eyes.

“Is it because of the boring clothing?” He ran his hands over the length of his torso, and a boyish smirk pulled on his lips.

A more genuine laugh came out of me before I stilled. “I apologize, again. I hope you won’t hold it against my sisters. They are very respectable young women who I highly doubt would take it upon themselves to spice up your wardrobe as I have.”

He sighed heavily, the mask of playful charm slipping into something more solemn. “Could I be honest with you?”