Page 25 of A Royal Mistake

“Oh?” Pippa arched a brow. “Is the Belgian royal family not interested in philanthropy?”

The prince’s cheeks reddened and, though guilt tugged at her conscience, she ignored it. After all, he was the one being an arse.

Prince Leopold cleared his throat. “The royal family supports several important charitable initiatives, but my duties prevent me from being heavily involved.” He shot Henry a patronizing smile. “No offense, Herr von der Recke, but playing in the mud isn’t exactly my thing.”

Henry grinned, utterly unfazed. “Field work isn’t for everyone. It takes a lot of character and even more heart.”

The prince narrowed his eyes and Pippa suppressed a grin as he seemed to consider whether he’d just been insulted.

“Why don’t you tell me a bit about yourself?” she suggested. “What do you enjoy doing in your free time?”

“My military career doesn’t leave much time for leisure activities,” the prince said, furrowing his brow, “but I enjoy studying history, fencing, and chess.”

Pippa stifled a yawn. “I’m afraid we don’t have much in common.”

No surprise there. What could she possibly have in common with a man who wore a military dress uniform to afternoon tea?

“Nonsense,” he said, completely undeterred. “We’re both of royal blood. The alliance would be good for our nations.”

Be still my heart.

On the bright side, at least his feelings wouldn’t be hurt if she released him from this charade early.

Henry huffed a laugh and when she turned to him, there was a mischievous glint in his eye. “Who needs love when you’ve got a good old fashioned royal alliance?”

“Exactly.” The prince nodded amiably and turned to Pippa. “It’s the perfect arrangement, wouldn’t you agree?”

If he truly believed that, he was in for a world of disappointment.

She racked her brain for a diplomatic response, but was saved from responding when a bee circled the prince, buzzing loudly.

He leapt from his chair, knocking it over, and ripped the peaked cap from his head. She watched as he waved it around, swatting viciously at the flying insect, an impressive string of curses flowing from his lips.

“Are you allergic?” she asked, panic taking root. The last thing this party needed was anaphylactic shock.

“No.” The prince swung his hat with gusto, the cap whistling through the air. It was the most passion he’d shown for anything since arriving at the palace. “Just hate the bloody buggers. I’d kill every last one of them if I could.”

Of that, she had no doubt. His mouth twisted as he took another swipe at the bee.

She turned to Sarah for help, but the protection agent shook her head, a silent reminder that this entire thing had been Pippa’s idea.

No help there.

Fine. If the prince wanted to waste his five minutes terrorizing insects, that was on him. At least it would simplify the elimination process.

“Remind me again why we’re doing this?” Henry’s gaze locked on the prince, who was now chasing the bee across the lawn as the other suitors looked on.

She sighed. “I don’t have a choice.”

“There’s always a choice.”

True enough. She could walk away from this courtship nonsense right now, but that would mean waiting two more years to access her trust and put her plans in motion.

Not an option.

The next two rounds of interviews went surprisingly smoothly and by the time the final suitor approached the table, she and Henry had found their rhythm.

“Your Highness.” The suitor bowed and for the briefest instant, she wondered if he’d even reached the age of majority. The boy—man—didn’t look a day over eighteen with his round cheeks and smooth chin. “Philip Sheffield, at your service.”