“Put on your best smile,” Cate said, linking her arm in mine. “The sooner we get this done, the sooner I get a hot bath.”
After the incident at All Hallows, I wasn’t sure whom I most loathed to see at the moment, Amelia or Henry. As we made our way through the crowded room, people glanced at us, their conversations growing hushed. Lady Catherine Dinley was well known in London, which left little speculation as to my identity. A knot tightened in the pit of my stomach for what lay ahead. A prickly princess I could handle. But having already suffered through one embarrassment at Henry’s hands last night, I was in no mood to be publicly humiliated in front of a room full of nobles.
Henry leaned over and whispered to Amelia. She turned, watched as we crossed the remaining distance. Leaving a few feet between us, Cate curtsied and I quickly followed suit. “Good evening, your highness,” Cate said. “May I present Miss Selah Kilbrid.”
Amelia looked at me, her intelligent blue eyes giving nothing away as she studied my face. I waited for her to speak first, keeping my gaze level despite the awkwardness of our situation. She bore little resemblance to the king, and I assumed took after her mother with her perfect oval face, flawless skin and small, straight nose. Flaxen curls adorned the top of her head, lightly powdered and glittering with a smattering of small diamonds. A gown of amethyst and silver damask accentuated her bosom and trim waist before falling over wide, oval hoops. Amelia appeared the perfect princess from head to toe, composed and arrogant, claws sheathed but ready to strike.
“Henry,” she said at last, tapping him playfully on the arm with a closed fan. “Why didn’t you tell me that your friend was such a beauty? Were you afraid that I would be jealous?”
Henry was also looking at me, and I soon felt like a bug under a glass. “I told you everything of consequence, Amelia,” he said. “Miss Kilbrid’s beauty is the least of her qualities.”
Amelia pursed her mouth, apparently unsure how to take his words—either he had just paid me a great compliment or a terrible insult. She let the matter go, glancing instead at my full bosom, which was pushed up even higher than usual by the tight lacings. “I see you are adapting well to London fashion, Miss Kilbrid,” she said with a wry grin. “Much to every gentleman’s approval, no doubt. I do wonder who you think the greater fool—us women for being bound or the men we so easily bind?”
Even with Cates’s warning, I was somewhat surprised by Amelia’s boldness. For better or worse, her audaciousness sounded like a challenge and I couldn’t help but respond in kind. “In truth, your highness, I believe that honor belongs to anyone foolish enough to overlook the mind for the sake of the body.”
Amelia’s face broke into a wide smile. “What do you think, Henry, are these qualities of equal merit? Can a man be brought to heel by a woman’s brain as easily as he can by her bosom?”
My foot twitched with a sudden urge to kick Henry in the shins. “From what I’ve heard, Lord Fitzalan sees such feminine power as unnatural and does not allow himself to be overly affected by a woman’s physical presence. Isn’t that right, my lord?”
The muscles tensed in his jaw. “A man would have to be made of stone not to be affected by you, Miss Kilbrid.”
“Is that a confession, my lord?” I asked tersely.
Amelia narrowed her eyes and glanced between us, obviously displeased by our banter. Feeling someone brush against my arm, I turned to find Julian beside me. Even though we hadn’t spoken since our first meeting, the bond between us was irrefutable. I could see it in his face, an amused, knowing expression for the secret we shared.
“You are just in time to settle a dispute, Lord Stroud,” Amelia said, drawing his attention. “We have been discussing Miss Kilbrid’s favorable attributes. As a man, do you find yourself drawn more readily to her brains or her bosom?”
My back stiffened and my face grew warm from this unwarranted attention, brought on by her subtle shifting of words. Julian glanced at me and met my eyes without looking any farther, though Amelia had practically invited him to do so.
“There is no need to answer, Lord Stroud,” Henry said, his voice holding a hint of warning. “The princess was only jesting.”
Julian kept his eyes on mine. “But I will answer, my lord. I say woe to the man who loves a woman blessed with both, for he shall never again be master of his own soul.”
The tension faded and I would have hugged Julian if not for the room full of people.
Amelia laughed appreciatively. “Well said, Lord Stroud. Flattery is such sweet balm to an awkward truth.” She glanced at me. “Please excuse us, Miss Kilbrid. Henry and I have promised to sit a game of whist with Lord and Lady Percival.”