The Trouble With Princesses Read Free Page A

him not unattractive. In fact, he was rather appealing in a very dark, English sort of way. Perhaps she ought to take the time to actually learn the man’s name. If she decided to add him to her list of prospective lovers, she would need to know what to call him, after all.
    Smiling more broadly, she accepted the arm he offered. Only then did she turn to Rupert. “If you will excuse us, Your Royal Highness?”
    “But of course.” Rupert took a step back, his eyes meeting hers once more.
    Her pulse raced in the most perplexing way. She was anticipating the dance to come and the man in whose arms she would enjoy it, she told herself. Perhaps, if all went well, she would eventually enjoy a great deal more than just dancing with him.
    Angling her head closer, the better to hear what he had to say, she let him lead her toward the dance floor.

Chapter Two
    P rince Rupert was bored.
    There were no two ways about it. Try as he might, he was finding little pleasure in the social game the Ton called the London Season.
    I should never have let Emma persuade me to stay in England longer than I’d originally planned, he mused as he drained the last of the champagne from his glass.
    Duties awaited him back in Rosewald, responsibilities that required his personal attention as regent. Arrangements had been made for his ministers to handle the day-to-day details of running the kingdom, with orders that an emissary be dispatched immediately should any business of an urgent or extremely delicate nature arise. But none had. At the moment, however, he wished an emissary would rush into the ballroom with an emergency that required him to leave. At least then he wouldn’t be put to the bother of pretending to listen to the Belgian ambassador as he droned on about the continued need for road repair in his country nearly five years after Napoleon’s ouster at Waterloo.
    Rupert tried hard to look interested, even as he accepted another glass of champagne from a passing footman. For as tedious as his visit was proving, it was still better than the infernal nagging that awaited him back at court.
    Before his departure from Rosewald, his ministers had been quietly but persistently pressing him about the necessity of taking a wife. Not only had they enlisted the support of his ailing father, who bellowed at him about grandchildren from his sickbed, but they had gone to the lengths of slipping a list of eligible princesses into his official correspondence.
    He’d been so annoyed at the time that he’d threatened to dismiss the entire lot of them over the incident, forbidding them to mention the topic again.
    But at four-and-thirty years of age, even he knew the time was drawing near. Soon, he would have to pick a suitable bride, a young woman of royal blood who would not only provide him with heirs but whose alliance would strengthen his place on the throne.
    Not yet, however.
    Not now.
    From across the room, Princess Ariadne caught his eye as she floated across the dance floor on graceful slippered feet.
    Her name, he recalled, had been omitted from the list of eligible royal brides. She was a princess, true, but one without a country. An alliance with her would provide nothing in terms of wealth, position, or political gain. As for her inheritance, he knew she had more than sufficient to be comfortable for the entirety of her life, but nothing remarkable enough to tempt another royal into offering marriage. Any number of nobles would be happy to wed her, of course, but from the comments he’d heard her make to Emma, she had no interest in agreeing to a sensible marriage of convenience.
    Holding out for love or some such sentimental nonsense.
    Across the room she tossed her head back on a laugh, bestowing a flirtatious smile upon her partner, one that the man returned with rapt intensity. Rupert followed her movements, aware of how she stood out like a swan amid a flock of geese.
    She had beautiful, creamy, milk-pale skin, a straight patrician