wondering how he would react if she said something like, You know perfectly well what I was doing, when to her relief the lunch bell rang.
‘Lunch,’ she murmured politely.
‘Saved by the bell,’ came his mocking retort, and Millie saw her mother blink, looking even more bemused.
Probably wondering how her mouse of a daughter had managed to engage the Prince’s interest for more than a nanosecond!
There were twenty for lunch, and—as Millie had fully expected—she was seated at the very end of the table, about as far away from him as it was possible to be. And I hope you’re enjoying your lunch, she thought, because every mouthful I take is threatening to choke me!
But Gianferro was not enjoying his lunch, and course after course made an appearance. The food was sublime, the surroundings exquisite and the company exactly as it should be—except…
His eyes kept straying to the girl at the end of the table. How unlike her sister she was. Lulu was as pampered and as immaculate as a world-class model—while Millie wore a simple dress which emphasised her long-limbed and naturally slim body. Her pale blonde hair was tied back and her face was completely free of make-up, and yet she looked as fresh and as natural as a bunch of flowers.
From close at his side Lulu leaned over, and he caught a drift of her expensive French perfume. Inexplicably he found himself comparing it to the earthy scent of horses and saddlesoap.
‘You haven’t touched your wine, Gianferro!’ Lulu scolded.
He shrugged. ‘Did you not know that I never drink at lunchtime?’
‘No, I didn’t! How boring!’ Lulu pulled a face. ‘Why ever not?’
‘I need to have a clear head.’
‘Not always, surely? Isn’t it nice sometimes to be…um…’ She shot him a coquettish glance. ‘Relaxed in the afternoon?’
He knew exactly what she was suggesting, and found himself…outraged. Or maybe, he admitted with painful honesty, maybe he was just looking for an excuse to be outraged. But it was more than that. Gianferro was an expert where women were concerned, and today he had seen Lulu on her home territory—and instinct told him that she was not what he wanted.
She was beautiful, yes—and confident and alluring—but her manner had been predatory since he had first set foot in her house, and while it was a quality which was admirable in a mistress it was not what he wanted from a wife.
Now she was flicking her hair back and letting her fingertips play with her necklace—all signs of sexual attraction, which was well and good. But he had realised something else, and he knew deep down that his instinct was the right one.
She was not a virgin!
Whereas Millie…
His gaze flicked down the table and he found her eyes on him. Huge and blue, confused and troubled. And as their eyes met she bit her lip and turned away, as if she had been stung.
Once again he felt the unexpected throb of a desire so primitive that it felt like something deeper than desire.
‘Gianferro?’
He gave his most bland and diplomatic smile as he turned to the woman by his side. ‘S
Lulu’s eyes were shining with undisguised invitation. ‘Would you like me to show you round the estate this afternoon? I mean, properly?’ She smiled. ‘There are all kinds of hidden treasures in Caius Hall.’
Gianferro steeled himself. All his life he had controlled—had chosen the correct path to take—and yet the route he had been following had suddenly become blurred. He knew that the unspoken understanding which had existed so precariously between himself and Lulu would now never be voiced. No offer had been made and therefore there could be no rejection.
She would know, of course, and be disappointed—yes, invariably—but far better a mild disappointment at this early stage than engaging in something which he knew would never work.
He knew what he should do. Walk away today without looking back—but now he found he had chanced upon an unexpectedly clear path to take. His route no longer seemed blurred at all.
‘Shall we all move places for dessert?’ questioned Millie’s mother.
Gianferro nodded. ‘Indeed. I should like the chance to talk to both your daughters.’
It was undeniably a command, and the very last thing she wanted—or was it?—but Millie knew where her duty lay, and she took her place next to him with a fixed smile on her face, trying to ignore Lulu’s mutinous expression and wondering what on earth she was going to say to him.
Or he to her!
His smile was mocking as he bent his head to talk in a low voice. ‘So why did you lie to me, Millie? Why did you pretend to be one of the grooms?’ he accused softly.
Millie bit her lip. There was no way she could come out and explain that he had made her feel all churned-up and confused. He would think she was mad! ‘Just an impulse thing,’ she said truthfully.
He raised his dark brows. ‘And are you often given to impulse?’ he queried.
‘Sometimes,’ she admitted. ‘Are you?’
He gave the same kind of almost-wistful smile he had shown her earlier and shook his head. ‘Alas, such an indulgence does not go with the job description.’
‘Of Prince?’ she teased.
‘Crown Prince,’ he teased back.
‘But you’re a person as well as a title!’ she declared.
How beautifully passionate she was, he thought. And how hopelessly naïve. ‘The two are inextricably linked,’ he said softly.
‘Oh.’
‘Anyway,’ he said firmly, ‘it is boring to talk of such things. Tell me about you, Millie.’
‘Me?’ She blinked in astonishment.
‘Is that such a surprising thing to want to know about?’
She didn’t want to say yes. To tell him that when you had an especially beautiful older sister very few people were interested in her. But he began to ask her about her childhood, and seemed genuinely to want to hear about it, and Millie began to relax, to open up. That strange and rather fraught encounter of earlier melted away as she began to tell him about the strictures of her life at the all-girls boarding school she had attended and about the jokes they had played on the nuns. And when his dark eyes narrowed and he began to laugh Millie felt as though she had achieved something rather special.
Until she realised that the whole table had grown silent, and that everyone was looking at them—her mother in surprise and Lulu with undisguised irritation.
‘What would you like to do this afternoon, Gianferro?’ questioned her mother.
He saw Lulu raise her eyebrows at him.
‘I will tell you what I would like to do,’ he said softly. ‘I should like to go and look at your horses.’
Lulu grimaced. ‘The horses?’
‘But, yes,’ he murmured. ‘I have many fine mounts in Mardivino, and I should like to see if you have anything here to equal them.’
‘Oh, I think you’ll find that we do!’ laughed one of the men.
From the centre of the table Lulu waved a perfectly manicured hand, first towards the window and then against her shell-pink couture gown. ‘But it’s raining!’
‘I like the rain,’ he said softly.
Lulu tapped her fingernail against the polished wood. ‘Well, if you want to get soaking wet, that’s fine