Page 7 of The Prince’s Wallflower Wife (The Wallflower Academy #4)

‘A nd this…this is usual here, in England?’ Christoph asked delicately as he sipped his tepid tea. ‘To take tea in this way?’

Miss Smith’s blush threatened to draw his attention to her décolletage. Not that he was going to stare. Most definitely not. ‘It is, yes. I myself prefer lemon. The Pike—Miss Pike requires milk. Do…do you not take your tea in either of these ways?’

He glanced over at the other side of the room, where a determined Miss Pike had taken up position in an armchair, eyeing them beadily, her own cup and saucer on a small tray.

The invitation from Miss Pike had been most welcome.

Christoph’s lodgings in London were not pleasant, the very little funds he had brought with him from Niedernlein, if eked out, just about enough to make it until the wedding.

The opportunity to get out of the city, growing danker and colder with each passing day, was delightful.

But the invitation had said afternoon tea with Miss Smith.

That was why he had begged for a lift on the back of a mail coach going in mostly the right direction and had walked the rest of the way to the Wallflower Academy.

Not for…this. Not for an awkward encounter with Miss Smith and an even more awkward one with the Pike.

Miss Pike. Even more reason to select an English bride, Christoph thought.

The customs of his newly chosen home were indeed most odd.

Without a wife born of this land to help him navigate these unusual customs, how could he make a home here?

There came the gentle clearing of a throat. Christoph’s eyes focused, and he realised he had completely forgotten what question Miss Smith had asked him. Something about tea…?

Miss Smith sipped her tea as her cheeks flushed. When she had placed the delicate china back in its saucer, she said softly, so only he could hear, ‘Miss Pike requires her wallflowers to be chaperoned at all times.’

Yes, he could see that. More was the pity—he had hoped, perhaps foolishly, for a little more privacy.

‘Are you sure you would not like a breath of fresh air, Miss Pike?’ Christoph called down the room, shifting awkwardly in his seat.

‘Oh, no, it’s perfectly pleasant in here,’ Miss Pike called over to them cheerfully. ‘Besides, who would then ensure that nothing untoward occurs?’

Try as he might, it was not quite possible for Christoph to ignore the sudden flaming flush that swept across Miss Smith’s cheeks. She was shy. The mere mention of something ‘untoward’, and her whole body appeared aflame. It was remarkable. Remarkably alluring…

Christoph pushed the thought away. It was not appropriate to think such thoughts. They were to be married, yes, but it was for naught but convenience.

‘So we are…what? To converse while Miss Pike sits there and watches us?’ Christoph asked in a low murmur.

There it was—a slight quirk of Miss Smith’s lips. The moment was gone in an instant, only because his attention was so closely trained on her face did he notice.

Which was allowed. Perhaps even appropriate. If—when—he married her, Christoph supposed he should know the contours of his wife’s face. Still, he supposed his stomach wasn’t supposed to twist like that, desire to pour through his ribcage to collect around his heart.

‘Yes, Prince Christoph, that is what we are supposed to do,’ said Miss Smith quietly.

Christoph’s jaw tightened. Prince Christoph. That was part of his life he had left behind, very much on purpose. There was no place for him in Niedernlein, no possibility of him returning. Absolutely all those bridges had been burnt.

The loss of his home was painful in a way he had not expected. Oh, it wasn’t just the geography, though he would miss the mountains. No, it was his people. His nation, the people he had thought he would serve all his life.

There was one advantage, however: he would never have to be Prince Christoph again. He had always loathed that title.

‘Prince Christoph?’ came Miss Smith’s quiet voice.

‘Don’t call me that,’ he muttered, highly conscious of Miss Pike craning her neck as their voices remained low.

He had not intended it as a criticism. He had barely thought about the words at all, just his dislike of the title.

Miss Smith’s expression became one of mortification. ‘I—I am so sorry, I didn’t—’

‘It’s quite all right,’ Christoph said hastily, his voice a murmur. ‘It’s just… I don’t like it.’

Confusion was written across her brow, and understandably so. ‘It’s your title.’

Blast . Did she have to be so logical about it? Christoph hesitated, considering precisely how much to tell her. Miss Smith looked at him, eyes wide, confusion now mingled with embarrassment once again as their gazes locked.

She was so very beautiful.

Concentrate, man!

‘I am a prince, yes, but it is…an irrelevance,’ Christoph said slowly. ‘It is a small country—very small. The whole of Niedernlein could fit inside London, and quite comfortably. It…it hardly counts.’

‘Better a prince than a wallflower,’ Miss Smith said with a wry smile. Then the smile disappeared, the expression of panic returning.

Christoph could not help but smile. Every now and again Miss Smith said something unguarded, a part of her was further revealed and he liked what he discovered. This was a woman with a mind, not a staid, dull personality.

‘I trust you are not speaking of anything indecent?’

The pair of them jumped. For a moment, just a few heartbeats, Christoph had managed to forget that Miss Pike accompanied them.

‘We are speaking of Niedernlein, Miss Pike,’ he called down, hoping his irritation at being interrupted was not too apparent.

‘Ah, excellent!’ came the warm words from the Wallflower Academy’s proprietress. ‘I am certain that Miss Smith will wish to hear all about… Oh, Matthews. Is all well?’

Christoph turned to see one of the servants enter with a bow before hurriedly stepping over to Miss Pike and muttering something in her ear.

‘It really is very simple, Matthews,’ Miss Pike started to say, clearly annoyed by the interruption. ‘You’ll need to tell half the wallflowers to wait their turn, and then organise the remaining wallflowers into two groups of… Look. I’ll show you…’

With an apologetic look, the footman inclined his head to Christoph and Miss Smith as Miss Pike rose to her feet.

‘You will have to excuse me, Your Highness,’ said the proprietress as Christoph winced. ‘An urgent matter that requires my attention, and my attention alone. I hope I can trust you to sit in absolute silence?’

Christoph blinked. ‘I… I beg your pardon?’

‘That way, I can be assured that nothing untoward occurs, you see,’ said the bustling Miss Pike as she walked to the door. ‘Come along, Matthews.’

The footman gave Miss Smith a look that spoke potently of their shared exhaustion with the woman, then retreated to the corridor. The dining room door closed. They were alone.

The silence that fell on the moment was intensely hushed. Christoph could not recall a silence like it—save at Katalina’s funeral.

He would not think of it.

Hands clenching into fists in his lap, tension sparking across his shoulder blades, Christoph took a moment to breathe. Just stay calm. Just don’t think about it. Just stay calm.

When he focused, it was to see Miss Smith picking at the cucumber sandwich that she had placed on her plate several minutes ago. Her attention was on the food, her cheeks slightly pink, as they always seemed to be.

Christoph cleared his throat. ‘We are not actually going to sit in silence, are we?’

Miss Smith appeared startled. ‘Aren’t we?’

‘I thought you would wish to take advantage of the lack of Miss Pike in the room,’ he said, attempting to inject cheerfulness into his tone. ‘Ask me questions, perhaps. It is right that you know something about me.’

Before I become your husband. The last five words did not quite make it to his tongue, and perhaps that was all to the good. Miss Smith appeared humiliated at the idea of interrogating him, her lips parted and moving but no sound emerging.

‘You do not like to break the rules,’ Christoph said gently, helping himself to a dainty-looking cake that looked most delicious.

It was not a question, and Miss Smith appeared to know that. ‘Rules are there to be followed. I have always done so, ever since I came to the Wallflower Academy. The rules are there to be obeyed.’

It was a challenge for Christoph not to allow a mite of disappointment into his heart. Well, he hardly wanted a hoyden for a wife—it would be remarkably difficult to keep track of her, for one, and it would be scandalous to have a wife who could not behave.

But still. A little fire…

‘Besides, if I were to break a rule,’ continued Miss Smith in a low tone, her cheeks reddening with every passing syllable, ‘it would not be for conversation.’

Christoph sat up in his chair. Well, now. That was interesting. ‘And what would it be for, Miss Smith?’

When she lifted her eyes and met his own, he found a knot tangled in his throat.

There was something about this woman. Something that tempted any man to linger a while and see if something more could be discovered about her.

She was like a jungle, waiting to be explored.

Or a mine, diamonds within her just waiting to be carved.

A sharp jolt of need forced Christoph to cross his legs. Focus, man!

‘I couldn’t possibly… I mean, I shouldn’t have said…’ Miss Smith said in a hurried voice, her expression anguished.

He could not permit her to continue to tie herself in knots. ‘Forget my impertinence, Miss Smith. It was only a jest.’

Her breathing was irregular as she fell into silence, and Christoph did what he could not to notice.

Hang it all, though, he was only a man.

But he was allowing himself to get distracted from the plan.

The thought jerked Christoph back to his senses. He was getting too invested, too interested in the woman who was going to make his plan work. She did not matter; it was the plan that mattered. Back to the plan.