I made my way through the crowd, greeting people as I went, being polite and respectful but trying my damnedest to not get caught up talking. I needed to find Priscilla. It wasn’t just that I wanted to see her - I’d barely had a glimpse of her all night - it was also because her absence was, not only unusual, but noticed. Many of the people I had spoken to tonight had asked about her, even the Queen had pulled me aside and asked where she was. Thankfully, the Queen was being attended to by Meredith this evening, so Priscilla hadn’t been negligent in her duties, but it was still a concern. It was completely out of character for her and that was what was so concerning about it.

I saw a flash of red hair and gave chase - at a dignified, unruffled and imperturbable pace - it wouldn’t do to run through the ballroom after her. She carried one full and one empty wine glass and as I watched, she drained the full one and replaced both glasses with two fresh ones. It was enough to pull me up sharp, I would never have pegged Priscilla to be someone who would over-indulge in wine, especially while attending a Royal function. Priscilla was always above reproach in her behaviour, it was one of the things I admired most about her. So many of the young women in her social set tended to excess and pushing boundaries. But Priscilla tended to wrap those boundaries around herself like a favoured and fashionable pashmina and revelled in them. She had a love for order and rules and protocol, not unlike myself, and seeing her like this was a shock.

I overcame my stunned inaction and continued forward, following her out the door and onto the terrace. Something must have happened to put her in such a state, there could be no other explanation. I hoped it was nothing serious and nothing to do with the Queen. We’d had far too much excitement over the last year and I wasn’t the only one hoping that this year would return to the calm and decorous atmosphere that our small country had enjoyed for so many years. I especially hoped that there was not something amiss with the wedding plans, we were only a few short weeks out and a mishap at this late stage could be detrimental to the entire event.

I finally found her standing at the low terrace wall and looking out over the rose garden. It was a beautiful sight, and I don’t mean the rose garden, although that was spectacular. Priscilla was dressed in an emerald green sheath of a gown that skimmed her lithe body, the asymmetric neckline exposing one satiny shoulder. Her thick deep red hair was styled in a chic chignon at her nape and long silver earrings sparkled, drawing my attention to the length of her smooth creamy neck. She was elegant and lovely and under the moonlight she looked ethereal and otherworldly. My breath caught in my chest as I gazed at her, her back to me as she surveyed the veritable fairyland of the rose garden.

She swallowed the last mouthful of one of the glasses of wine she held and turned to sip from the other. It was enough to get me moving towards her. I stepped up close behind her, drawing in the delicate fragrance of her perfume and slipped the glass from her hand. She startled and turned, her body brushing against mine with the movement and I had to bite back the groan that threatened to escape from my throat at her touch.

“Lord Chancellor,” she said, looking up at me with her faded blue eyes. They always made me think that she was an old soul, that those eyes had seen many things and behind them was several lifetimes of wisdom.

“Lady Beaumonde,” I said, my voice huskier than I would have liked.

She reached for her glass and I lifted it out of her reach.

“How about you let me have this one,” I said.

“Why don’t you go and get your own,” she replied defiantly, glaring at me with those all-knowing eyes.

“Why, when I have one right here?” I raised an eyebrow at her and took a healthy sip from the glass.

“That was mine.”

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough?”

Her eyes narrowed at me. “Have you been spying on me?”

“Not at all, but I have been looking for you and when I spied you, you had just finished two glasses of wine and helped yourself to another two.”

“It is a party, Lord Chancellor,” she said with a sniff.

“Yes, but I don’t think it would be in the best interests of the Queen if one of her Ladies in Waiting were to get fall down drunk at an event attended by the most important foreign guests on the continent.”

Her eyes widened and she blushed, her cheeks turning a delightful shade of pink, before she dropped her eyes, bowing her head so that it almost came to rest on my chest. I had to fight the inclination to step forward and put my arm around her, so that she could indeed rest her head against my chest.

“You don’t think Alyssa noticed, do you?” she asked, looking up at me with worried eyes.

“I don’t think she noticed you singlehandedly putting a decent dent in her cellars, but she did notice your absence from the festivities. I came looking for you at her request.” It wasn’t the complete truth, a small white lie, but she didn’t need to know that.

She dropped her head again and this time she did rest it against me. My breath hitched and I clenched my fists at my sides to stop my arms from winding around her and gathering her to me.

“What’s going on?” I asked quietly trying to keep the gruffness from my voice.

“It’s nothing,” she said, not lifting her head.

“It can’t be nothing. I know you and I know that you wouldn’t be behaving this way unless there was something the matter.” I tucked a knuckle under her chin and lifted her face to mine.

She gazed up at me with trusting, if somewhat glazed eyes, and I had to remember to breathe. For the first time since I’d known her, she was hiding nothing from me and I saw a deep hurt in her that up until now, she had kept very well hidden. Her eyes fluttered closed and she pressed up against me, her lips brushing mine in a tentative kiss. I let myself enjoy it for a fraction of a moment, wanting nothing more than to pull her against me and deepen the kiss until both of us forgot our own names, but using the restraint of a saint, I stepped away from her, breaking the kiss.

Her eyes popped open in surprise and she looked up at me questioningly. Then she realised that I had rebuffed her attentions and her faced flamed scarlet and she fled from me.

I sighed inwardly as Piérre prattled on and on, in French, to some diplomat or other. It had been the same way all night and when he wasn’t ignoring me to talk to one of the stuffy old men that were there, he was quizzing me about who I knew, who was titled, how much they were worth and what country they were from. Not that I knew any of the answers to his questions, which hadn’t impressed him at all. He somehow expected me to know all the comings and goings of my father, who he spoke to, who he met with and what they discussed. I had far too many more interesting things to do than to worry about what my father did.

And I thought he might at least dance with me once, but no such luck. I watched the dancing with longing, desperate to kick up my heels and show off my dress. Standing around did nothing to show off the beautifully layered full skirt and the tiny crystals that decorated the soft, gauzy overskirt. I had chosen the dress with dancing in mind and so far the closest to the dance floor I’d come was when we walked across it when we arrived. Meanwhile Piérre and Lord So-and-so droned on and on about something so boring I had to stifle a yawn.

I thought it was incredibly ill-mannered to converse in French while at a Royal event. I understood it well-enough, I grew up in France and my mother was French, but the official language of Merveille was English, although most people also spoke Italian, French and German. I only knew this because of Priscilla’s boring lessons on protocol that she had insisted I sit through as part of my internship. Speaking in French, especially when this was an event that was attended by many non-French-speaking guests was the height of rudeness. It was almost as though they didn’t want their conversation to be overheard. That thought made me listen in a little closer, but then I abandoned my attempt at eavesdropping, Piérre knew I spoke French, so conversing in it while I stood close by was not really an attempt at subterfuge, besides, whatever they were talking about made absolutely no sense to me whatsoever.

I sighed and turned my head to watch the dance floor once again. Both Lily and Georgie had found dance partners and their faces were lit with smiles as they twirled passed me. It had been an absolute age since we had gotten together, not since the garden party when I first saw Louis and I missed them. Through a break in the crowd I spied the man himself. Louis was sitting at a table on his own sipping a dark amber liquid from a short, thick crystal tumbler, his eyes boring into me. The intensity in his eyes was enough to make me let out a short gasp.

Piérre looked down at me and followed my eyes to Louis, who lifted his glass in salute.

“Forgive me, mon chérie. I fear I have neglected you for most of the evening.”

I smiled up at him, hoping that he would finally escort me on to the dance floor.

“Why don’t you run along and say hello to your friend over there. I dare say he would be glad to take you for a turn around the dance floor.”

It wasn’t exactly what I wanted, but I wasn’t about to turn down an opportunity to dance and I did have some fences to mend with Louis.

“If you don’t mind me leaving,” I said, looking up at Piérre who had already turned back to his conversation.

“Not at all mon petit chou.”

He had turned back to the other man before even completing the sentence. I turned away in a huff and walked toward Louis, he watched me the whole way, his eyes burning into me, their green depths sparkling like cold emerald gems.

“May I sit here?” I asked, hoping he wouldn’t turn me away.

“Has your beau lost interest in you?” he asked with a growl.

I slumped into a chair across the table form him. “I don’t think he had any interest in me to begin with.”

He turned to me and raised one of his dark eyebrows as he sipped from his glass, the lights glinting off the cut crystal.

“You need to understand, Louis,” I said, deciding that I wasn’t above begging, “He has an arrangement with my father.”

“I know,” he replied coolly, “But you told me the agreement was for your sister’s betrothal.”

“Yeah, well, it looks like we are interchangeable.”

“What?” His callous demeanour fled as he sat up and looked at me with dismay. “Please tell me that doesn’t mean what I think it means.”

I sighed and slumped down further in my chair. “It seems that if my sister won’t marry him, than I will have to.”

“What nonsense,” he replied, offended on my behalf, “There is no law saying that either one of you have to honour the agreement, in fact I’m pretty sure there is a law against it.”

“But that’s just the thing,” I said, trying to make him understand, “There may not be a legal reason for one of us to marry him, but if we both refuse to honour the agreement, my father will lose face and in his job that could be detrimental.”

“I refuse to believe that there is not a way out of this,” Louis said, standing, “Come, let’s dance while I think over the problem. I think much better when my feet are occupied.”

I took his hand and let him lead me into the throng of dancers. My body relaxed as he caught me in his arms and led me with skill through the waltz. I had imagined that I would be dancing in Piérre’s arms tonight, but it had been a childish fantasy. The reality was that Piérre was a bore and arrogant and nothing like I expected. No wonder Priscilla had refused him, but now he had set his sights on me and I had no clue how I was going to get out of it without disgracing my family.

I fled the ball, stopping briefly to explain to Alyssa that I wasn’t feeling well, and escaped to the garden. I couldn’t believe that I had thrown myself at Dom that way and to just pile on the humiliation, he refused me. It was mortifying!

I slunk down the gravel path, leaving the noise and lights of the reception behind. The rose garden was dimly illuminated by strings of fairy lights and it was barely enough light to see by, but I knew these gardens and these paths, having spent a considerable time wandering them in solitude.

I took a deep breath of the cool spring air and ducked into a small grotto that gave some semblance of privacy should anyone decide to follow me… and anyone meaning Dom.

I don’t know what came over me. I was so upset after seeing Piérre with Bianca and then the argument I had with him. Would Papa really let him marry Bianca? I couldn’t believe it, but then my father was blind to the man’s faults. He had wanted a son, two daughters not enough to carry on the Beaumonde line, and for some God forsaken reason, he had chosen Piérre as his surrogate. We weren’t the last of the Beaumonde children, my cousin Luc was a hale and healthy Beaumonde quite capable of carrying on the name, but still my father despaired, which was completely irrational. Marrying Piérre would not ensure the Beaumonde line, it would only enrich the Romanov line and I had no desire to be a part of that family.

My father’s infatuation with the Baron was a complete mystery to me. He was an Earl, titled to the Royal family of Merveille and Piérre was merely a Baron and a very distant relative of the Royal family in Monaco, there seemed no advantage to marrying either Bianca nor myself off to someone like him. Besides the fact that he was a known rogue with an appalling reputation and that he barely had two silver dollars to rub together to his name. Even his family’s estates had been sold off to cover the debts incurred by his short reign as Baron, all except the only Estate that was entailed. If anyone was to gain from this marriage, it would be Pierre and not Papa. Which begged the question, why? Why was Papa so determined to join our family with Piérre’s?

I heard the gravel crunch as someone made their way towards my hiding spot and I held my breath, hoping that they would pass by without noticing me. Luck was not with me as the footsteps slowed and came to a stop at the entrance to the grotto. I had taken a seat on the small stone bench in the corner of the little hide-away, but it hadn’t hidden me from the intent stare of the one man I was trying to avoid, or should I say, one of the men I was trying to avoid.

“Priscilla,” he said, his deep voice reverberating through me and causing my skin to erupt in goosebumps in response. I little shiver ran through me and he stepped into the alcove. “You’re cold.” He preceded to remove his coat and took another step towards me to drape it around my shoulders. “What are you doing out here?”

I looked up into his deep green eyes and a lump formed in my throat. How could I explain the mess I found myself in? How could I explain the kiss? Or my behaviour when I couldn’t even make any sense of it myself?

“Please Dom,” I said, my voice a husky whisper, “I just want to be alone.”

He sat down beside me with a huffed exhalation of breath and I felt the warmth of him through the fabric of his coat. I was surrounded by his warmth and scent and it was almost too much for me to deal with on top of everything else that had happened tonight.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be alone right now,” he said, his voice like gravel.

“I’m fine, I promise. I just needed some air and some perspective.”

“Priscilla,” he said earnestly, turning his body to face me, “I know that there is something that is upsetting you and I can’t, in good conscience, leave you to battle it on your own. Won’t you please tell me what is going on? Maybe I can help.”

“Thank you, Dom, really. Thank you for your concern, but there is nothing to be done.”

“I don’t believe that,” he said, his gem coloured eyes searing mine with their intensity.

“It’s something I have to work out on my own,” I replied, breaking the eye contact that seemed to gaze into my very soul.

As much as I wanted someone to rescue me, I knew that no one would. This was a problem that my father had facilitated but I was the only one who could do anything about it. The only thing left for me to decide was what exactly that was.

Dom skimmed the back of his fingers down my cheek and then, using a gently finger, lifted my chin so that I was once again captured by his piercing gaze.

“I can help,” he said softly, “But only if I know what’s going on.”

“I know you think you have the answer for everything,” I retorted, a little harsher than I had intended, “But there are things that are out of your scope of influence.”

“Priscilla,” he said, exasperated.

I stood and slipped his jacket off my shoulders. “Thank you for your concern,” I said stiffly, “But I am perfectly capable of dealing with this on my own.” I inclined my head regally to him, “Good evening Lord Chancellor,” I said and turned to go.

He reached out and caught my elbow, turning me back to him and pulling me into his body. He crashed his lips down on mine and after a stunned moment I melted into him. He gentled his assault on me and his lips brushed mine, learning the peaks and valleys with gentle caresses and my mind fogged with the attention. I knew kissing Dom would be an experience, but I didn’t know just how much it would affect me or that I would feel it down to my very toes.

With hard won control, I pushed myself away from him and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, glaring daggers at him, before raising my hand and slapping him across the face. The crack of my palm on his cheek stunned both of us, but I recovered first and ran from the grotto, my skirts lifted high and praying that he wouldn’t follow.