How to Propose to a Prince Read Free

toward the storeroom. “There is a shipment to be inventoried. Please see to it at once.” Hamilton, the elder, looked to his customers. “I beg your pardon. Do forgive my son.”
    Bertrum Hamilton, realizing he had forgotten his place, turned dejectedly on his heel and slowly started for the back of the shop when Elizabeth’s would-be fiancé unexpectedly called out. “Young man.”
    Bertrum turned and met his father’s reproachful gaze. Receiving a hesitant nod of consent, he approached them again, his head hanging low. “I beg your forgiveness, Your Royal Highness. How may I serve you?”
    Your Royal Highness? Elizabeth gasped again, and looked immediately to Anne, whose golden eyes had gone wide.
    “Your Royal Highness? No, no, you mistake me for another.” A distinct ruddiness swept the gentleman’s cheekbones.
    “Have I?” Bertram’s brows migrated towardthe bridge of his narrow nose. “I do beg your pardon…s-sir.”
    Elizabeth’s prince turned from the clerk, straightened his back, and his chest expanded as he prepared to address the women. “Please excuse me, Lady MacLaren, Miss Royle, but your comment about the tiaras being fit for a princess caught my attention. And I believe you were correct in your assessment. The tiaras are beautiful.”
    “Yes, they are.” Elizabeth beamed at the prince. A bead of water dripped from a tendril of hair and into her lashes, making them flutter madly. Gads, she must appear the veriest of ridiculously charmed misses.
    His eyebrows lifted slightly and he returned a bemused smile. “When I approached, my dear ladies, I had only thought to request a small favor. I should not have even thought it, or spoken to you, but now that I have, I am duty-compelled to make myself known to you both. I am Lansdowne, Marquess of Whitevale.” He bowed deeply. “I do hope you will forgive my earlier impertinence.”
    From the periphery of her vision, Elizabeth saw the young clerk roll his eyes disbelievingly.
    Within a clutch of moments, Anne had politely introduced them both. “My lord, what favor did you wish to ask of us? It would be an honor to assist you in any way possible.”
    “I—I…” He gestured for the clerk. “That tiara, there. The one the ladies were viewing.”
    Young Bertrum Hamilton reached into the jewel case and lifted a glittering diamond tiara from a tuft of black velvet. “This one, my lord?”
    “Yes.” He took the jewel-encrusted tiara from the clerk and then held it out to Elizabeth. “Might you try this one on for me…for just a moment or two? Please.”
    Elizabeth nervously forced a polite smile and nodded. She reached for the tiara, but Lord Whitevale suddenly waved her hand away.
    “Would you allow me, Miss Royle?” he asked.
    Once more Elizabeth nodded mutely. Her hands were trembling so fiercely that she probably would not be able to position it upon her head properly anyway.
    She did not say a word. La, she barely breathed, for fear she would shriek with excitement. Her heart pounded as he raised the glittering tiara and eased it into the curls of her red hair as he settled it atop her head.
    Her dream was coming true. She knew it!
    Well, half true at least. So, Lord Whitevalewas not a prince. But that was of no consequence. Here she stood with a sparkling diamond tiara on her head placed there by the man of her dreams.
    Who would have ever thought such a wretchedly miserable day would become so brilliant? She lifted her lips at the thought, earning a reciprocal smile from Lord Whitevale—one that warmed her chilled body from the tips of her damp toes to the crown of her head.
    Then, without warning, he gently plucked the tiara from her head and turned to the clerk. “Yes, this is it. Will you have this sent to Cranbourne Lodge this very day? And enclose this, will you?” He withdrew a letter from inside his coat and handed it to young Hamilton.
    The clerk bowed. “Yes, Your Royal Highness—I mean, yes, my lord.”
    “My thanks,