‘He is certainly all man,’ May murmured appreciatively. ‘Just look at that swagger.’ Against her better judgement, Evie’s eyes drifted down to his open-hipped stroll, which bordered on decadent. Even his walk was exotic. Good heavens, she really had to find a new word. He was handsome. Perhaps if she wasn’t focused on Andrew, she might find him attractive in a more personal way. For now, though, the attraction was limited to his mannerisms, his fashion. She truly did admire his clothes. Even if she didn’t have her heart set on Andrew, admiring the prince’s clothes was all a girl like her could do. One only had to look at him, so confident, so handsome, so male, and then look at her to know she never stood a chance. She wasn’t the type who caught princes. She was too odd. London had taught her that in the most brutal way possible.
‘Miss Milham, good day.’ The Prince gave a short bow in greeting. ‘What a pleasure to encounter you.’ Evie was aware of Beatrice and May exchanging quiet looks. Her usually confident friends seemed daunted by his presence.
Evie dipped a curtsy. ‘Your Highness, may I introduce my friends? This is Miss May Worth and Miss Beatrice Penrose.’
He greeted each in turn, taking their hands and smiling at them, his eyes as warm and genuine as they’d been last night, proof that she’d been right. These rituals were mere politeness to him. They meant nothing. He asked how they were enjoying the weather and enquired about their errands, making small talk, doing the work of putting them at ease. He must do it all the time, Evie realised, watching the interaction. Everywhere he went, people were probably in awe of him, in awe of being in the company of a royal prince. Did he ever get tired of the effort?
Then he was talking to her and she forgot her speculations. ‘It’s quite fortuitous that I’ve run into you, Miss Milham. I was hoping to take you up on the offer to view your tapestry. I regret we did not get to speak of it more in depth last night.’
Evie blushed under the weight of Bea’s and May’s stares. They were wondering what she hadn’t told them. ‘You are welcome to view it any time. Someone is always at home,’ Evie managed. Beside her, May straightened, her posture becoming alert. That worried her. Apparently, May had overcome any self-consciousness.
‘Tomorrow,’ May interjected with a smile to the Prince. ‘You should come tomorrow to view the tapestry. Evie is always home on Tuesdays in the afternoon and the light in the tapestry room is very good around one o’clock.’ Oh, sweet heavens, May had invited the Prince to her house! Had, in fact, all but begged him to come over. Even for May, this bordered on mortifying. Evie was suddenly wishing the Prince had been a little more awe-inspiring.
‘May—’ Evie tried to mitigate her friend’s boldness. The poor man would feel trapped. ‘He might be busy.’
But the Prince took May’s boldness in his stride. He didn’t sound trapped. ‘One o’clock it is.’ He looked in her direction. ‘If that is acceptable to you, Miss Milham?’
May’s foot came down on hers under their skirts before she could think of politely refusing. Evie heard herself squeak, ‘One o’clock would be fine,’ before the Prince smiled once more and continued down the street.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ Evie whirled on May the moment the Prince was out of sight. ‘You invited a foreign dignitary to my house! My house. You don’t even live there. Since when do you invite guests to other people’s homes?’
May gave a smug laugh, unfazed by the outburst. Evie was envious of that laugh, that confidence. Nothing bothered May, not even a flagrant disregard for the rules. ‘Since you started passing up perfectly good opportunities to spend time with handsome men.’ May pulled her into a quiet side street. ‘He was angling for an invitation and you were prevaricating with your generic responses. “Come over any time,”’ May mimicked.
‘I didn’t want him to feel coerced.’ Evie folded her arms over her chest in defence.
‘Oh, I assure you, he wasn’t feeling coerced. He was running wild and free with no fences in sight,’ May replied, blowing out a frustrated breath. ‘Evie, a handsome man who is also a royal, foreign prince wanted to come to your house. How many times do you think that happens, especially in West Sussex?’
‘To see a tapestry,’ Evie reminded her.
May was undaunted. ‘Who cares about the reason why? He’s still coming.’
‘I’m not interested in him that way,’ Evie explained patiently. ‘I’m interested in Andrew.’ She didn’t need to catch a prince, nor did she want to. Her sights were firmly set on Andrew Adair. Besides, what would a man like the Prince—a dashing, well-travelled, sensual man—do with a girl like her who’d never been out of England? It seemed an exercise in futility to even imagine it; a very warm exercise that she had no business entertaining in broad daylight on a village street.
‘Let me try, May.’ Beatrice stepped up. ‘Evie, dear, you can use the Prince as leverage. Men are competitive creatures.
‘Once Andrew sees another man interested in you, it will pique his own curiosity, especially if that man is a royal prince and a friend. Andrew will wonder what he’s been missing.’
‘And he’ll make the effort to find out?’ Evie supplied the rest. She beamed at her friends. Perhaps May’s plan was pure genius after all. ‘What would I do without you? I’m so glad you’re here.’ She paused and gasped as a sudden thought hit her. ‘You will come tomorrow, won’t you? Both of you? You’ll know what to say, what to do. You know what my father will be like. He’ll go on and on about King Arthur and all of his books far longer than is decent and my mother will be so overset about a prince coming to visit, she’ll spend the afternoon on the fainting couch or pestering the cook for perfection.’ Her parents were good people, but they were not social people. Entertaining was not their strong suit. ‘I can’t possibly face the Prince alone.’
There was no rush of assurances. She had the sense again that something was wrong. Bea and May exchanged another of those looks between them. They’d been doing that a lot today. May took her hand, her blue eyes serious. ‘We’d love to be there, but I’m afraid we can’t make it.’ She flicked a glance at Bea and Beatrice nodded. ‘We are leaving tomorrow for Scotland.’
‘Tomorrow!’ Evie protested. ‘But you’ve barely arrived?’ She looked at Bea. ‘What has happened? We were supposed to have two weeks.’
Bea’s hand went protectively to her stomach. When she pressed like that, catching the fabric so that it was flat against her body, her stomach looked larger, the pregnancy more advanced. ‘I’m showing sooner than expected.’ She bit her lip.
Evie felt immediately selfish. ‘I can let out some more dresses for you. We can do it this afternoon.’ She’d been altering Bea’s clothes for her since the spring, using her needle to keep Bea’s pregnancy discreet.
‘That’s sweet of you, Evie, but no.’ Bea gave a sad smile and shook her head. ‘My parents would be more comfortable knowing I’m safe in Scotland before any speculation begins.’ That was putting a polite trim on it, Evie thought. Beatrice’s parents were worried about scandal more than they were worried about their daughter’s safety.
Beatrice put a brave face on. ‘Besides, if I’m showing so soon the baby might be early, it might be twins. It will be good to be away and settled before too much longer.’ She meant before November, when the baby was due. Late autumn didn’t seem so far