Part 10 (2/2)
Ha! Bronwyn could have kissed the viscount. Curiosity burning, she sidled around the statue and tried to catch a glimpse of them, but they were out of sight.
”Perhaps.” The prince couldn't have sounded more bored. ”If you like that sort of woman.”
”Yes,” Strathmoor drawled. ”Men find ivory skin, petal-pink lips, and beautiful blue eyes far too mundane, and much prefer plumpness, freckles, and spectacles.”
Bronwyn hadn't considered herself vain until this moment, but hearing herself dismissed so summarily hurt more than she'd have imagined. She peeked around the statue into the mirror on the opposite wall. She wasn't plain. Her features were good, her skin well enough even if it lacked Sorcha's creamy paleness, and her eyes were lively. Or so she'd thought until now.
Maybe she could see the men and judge their expressions better if she leaned out a bit. Moving carefully, she held on to the pillar and leaned forward. She could just see the prince's broad shoulder.
Frowning, she slipped an arm around Cupid and leaned out farther still. Now she could see both men in clear profile at the bottom of the steps.
The prince was shaking his head. ”It is not about prettiness, which is as cheap as cheap wine, but about spirit, verve, pa.s.sion. That is hard to find.”
”I prefer a woman who saves her spirited responses for when we are alone.”
The prince laughed and smacked Strath's shoulder. ”This is why you and I never fight-we like different types of women. Like you, my grandmother favors Miss Sorcha.”
There was a moment of silence. ”Does she?”
”Da. Yesterday Tata Natasha asked many questions about my dance with the girl. If the Murdoch family meets Tata's approval, she'll sanction the match.”
”And by sanction you mean-”
”Attempt to shove it down my throat.”
”Ah. That kind of sanction. I wonder if that is not who awaits us at tea now. What does your grandmother say about the elder Miss Murdoch?”
”She's heard that Bronwyn is-how do you say-on the shelf? And that she has few social graces, which my grandmother holds very dear. Tata Natasha would never approve of Miss Murdoch, which is fine with me.”
Strathmoor lifted a brow. ”So you're still of a mind to pursue Miss Murdoch?”
”I will have her.”
The words brushed over Bronwyn like a heated wind. He said it without hesitation, as if he already knew she would capitulate. And looking at him, his black hair falling over his brow, so tall and broad shouldered- A s.h.i.+ver went through her, making her grip on the statue slip. Before she could fall, she pulled back into Cupid's shadows.
Papillon, who'd been sitting at Alexsey's feet, suddenly turned in her direction.
She held perfectly still. No, don't come here. Please don't come here.
But it was too late. The dog arose and trotted down the hallway, sniffing this way and then that, her bright eyes returning again and again to where Bronwyn was hidden.
She held her breath, willing the dog to stop, but to no avail: the dog came within a few paces and, tail wagging, looked directly at her.
”Go!” she whispered, glancing uneasily at the two men at the end of the hall.
The dog wagged her tail harder.
”Papillon, where are you?”
Bronwyn froze.
Alexsey sighed. ”You silly mutt, what are you doing?”
The dog backed up two steps and barked, her tail wagging frantically. She looked from Bronwyn, down the hall, and then back at Bronwyn, as if wis.h.i.+ng she could share the news of her find.
Bronwyn heard Alexsey's footsteps as he moved to look down the narrow hallway toward Papillon.
”What is it?” Strathmoor asked.
”I don't know. She probably smells a mouse.”
Alexsey returned to the bottom of the stairs where Strathmoor waited, and Bronwyn sagged in relief.
Papillon, her plumed tail still wagging, sat down, her hopeful gaze fixed on Bronwyn.
She shook her head at the dog and then, as silently as she could, slipped an arm around the statue for balance and leaned forward to see both men.
”My grandmother will be the death of me,” Alexsey said. ”She wishes me to woo a woman in earnest, to find a wife. I've refused, but she still nags and nags. Worse, she's started threatening me with the loss of my birthright.”
”Is she still dangling that ring before you?”
”Every chance she gets. She thinks to control me with it.” The prince blew out his breath in an aggravated puff. ”She is wrong.”
”I wouldn't tell her that. I've never met a more decisive woman. Frankly, she scares me a bit.”
”She can be overbearing.” There was a moment of silence, and then Alexsey chuckled. ”You know, there may be a way to silence her.”
”You cannot kill your grandmother.”
Alexsey laughed. ”No, no. But I can perhaps stop her constant nagging, and prove that while I seek the kaltso, I will not sacrifice my principles.”
”And how will you perform that miracle?”
”I will woo Miss Murdoch openly, court her for the world-and my grandmother-to see.”
Bronwyn started, and her head banged against Cupid's quiver. She winced and gritted her teeth to keep from crying out.
Strathmoor sounded puzzled. ”You wish to court Miss Murdoch in earnest?”
”It will look in earnest to everyone, including my grandmother. Which will make her worry that perhaps I am in love. She will then stop her infernal matchmaking and will instead attempt to convince me that perhaps she was hasty and I shouldn't court anyone at all. I already know she finds Miss Murdoch unqualified to be a princess.”
Bronwyn found that, with the right encouragement, her hands could curl into claws.
”What's wrong with Miss Murdoch?”
”According to my grandmother, Miss Murdoch is too old for babies, too outspoken for a lady of quality, and has a decided lack of polish.”
<script>