Justine gapes at me as if I’ve just told her I’ve decided to run off and join the circus.

“I just thought it would be good for us,” I say. “A way to get to know each other a little better.”

“We already live together,” she says. “We sleep in the same suite.”

“And yet we’re still strangers. And we will continue to be if we continue going on as we have.”

Justine crosses her arms. “You’ve read my journal. I’d say you already know a lot more about me than you should.”

“Would it help if I let you read my journal?”

Her lips quirks. “You have a journal?”

“Well, not exactly. But talking to me is the next best thing.”

She shakes her head. “You’re not exactly selling this.”

“Then how about this—it’s important to me that my wife is happy. The way this marriage came about was…less than fair to you. I can’t change the past, but what I can do is try and make it up to you. And I’d like to do what I should have done the moment I realized marriage to you was even on the table—I want to court you.”

“Court me?”

“Yes. Is that so novel an idea?” I grin down at her. “Come, Princess—just one date. If you have a terrible time, then we don’t have to have another.”

She leans back in her chair, her arms still crossed. “What exactly are you proposing we do on this date?”

“I’ll admit that my ideas are limited, considering I’ve only been here a couple of days and don’t know fully what this palace or Rosvalia have to offer. But at the very least, I thought we might acquire some food and talk.” I shrug. “Perhaps we might order something from the kitchens and have ourselves a picnic—I noticed a lovely conservatory not far from this room. Perhaps we might eat there.”

“That might not be the best idea,” she says. “That’s the aviary. It’s beautiful, but as soon as the birds see food, they’ll be all over us.”

“That sounds like an adventure.”

“Trust me—it won’t be. Unless you want to be dive-bombed by tropical birds, we should probably eat elsewhere.”

My smile widens. “Does that mean you’re agreeing to a date?”

She closes her eyes. “I’m agreeing to dinner. You can call it a date if you want.”

“I do want.”

She shakes her head, opening her eyes. “There’s a spot in the gardens that might be nice. Over by the south gate.”

“Then I’ll have the kitchen send our food there.” I stride toward the door. “Let’s say…eight o’clock? And Princess, dress nice.” I give her a wink that probably doesn’t help my case, but I’d swear she’s fighting a smile as I close the door.

This is my chance, I think cheerfully as I hurry back to our suite. And I don’t intend to waste it.

* * *

At ten to eight, I’m standing in the small courtyard Justine suggested. She’s right—it’s absolutely lovely. Large hedges surround the stone patio on three sides, giving it a cozy feel. The fourth side is open, facing a small but charming little pond.

The night is chilly—I didn’t think about the season when I suggested a picnic—but the lanterns that line the courtyard give off a comforting warmth. When I get closer to one, I realize it’s an electric heater designed to look like an ornate, flickering lantern. Despite the autumn chill, we’ll be quite warm here.

There’s a table and chairs set up next to the pond, and when the staff appears with the food, I direct them there. I ordered far too much for us to eat—pheasant and pastries, scalloped potatoes and buttered vegetables, exotic cheese and fruit. I was impressed by the scope of the palace’s kitchens—though my heart belongs with our chef back home, I imagine I’ll eat quite well here.

Tonight, though, it is more important to show Justine that I’m trying.

I straighten my jacket. My motivations aren’t entirely unselfish—I wasn’t lying when I told Justine I felt the need to make things up to her for the way this marriage was arranged, but everything is far more complicated than that. There are too many secrets in this place, and I don’t intend to spend the rest of my life pretending I don’t notice.

Or even the next ninety-seven days. My first order of business is to learn once and for all what Justine was referring to with that little slip of the tongue. I’m not a fool, and I don’t intend to be played for one. Perhaps, once the wine is flowing and she sees I’m not as terrible as she thinks I am, she might be honest with me.

A footstep on the cobblestones makes me turn. Justine has appeared, and the sight of her takes my breath away.

She actually listened to me when I asked her to dress up—she’s put on a simple gown of pale yellow that shines like gold in the lamplight. Her dark hair hangs in loose waves, and it too shines in the flickering light. In fact, everything about her glows—she looks absolutely enchanting.

It takes me a moment to find my voice. “Good evening, Princess.”

She starts towards me, and the silk dress moves as she walks, sliding over her curves like water. I swallow, trying to ignore the sudden rush of blood to my cock.

“Good evening, Your Highness,” she says when she reaches me. Her eyes shift past me to the table of food. “You must be hungry—that’s enough food for eight people.”

“Well, I always like to be prepared,” I say with a grin. “Besides, I have no idea what your favorite foods are yet—only that you’re allergic to shellfish and can’t eat raspberries. So I thought I’d play it safe and order everything.”

“How conscientious of you.”

I can’t tell whether she’s being sarcastic or not—but I see a flash of humor in her eyes.

Maybe this is working, I think. Maybe I’m finally getting through to her. You can never tell with noblewomen, though.

I lead her to her seat, pushing her chair in behind her. Then I take my own chair.

“Wine?” I ask, holding up the bottle.

Instantly, something flickers in her gaze—suspicion?—but it’s gone as fast as it came.

“One glass,” she says.

“One glass it is.” I pour some for each of us, then raise my glass. “To our very first date.”

She raises her glass to meet mine. “To our first date.”

“And to a long and happy marriage.”

I can see immediately that I’ve pushed things too far, too fast. Her smile falters, and she doesn’t immediately try to hide it. She lowers her glass.

“Tell me the truth,” she says. “Why did you ask me here tonight?”

“I’ve already told you, I want to start fresh and—”

“That’s bullshit, and we both know it. I don’t trust you, Your Highness.”

“I don’t trust you either, Princess.” I shrug. “But the way I see it, that just makes us even.”

“Why did you ask me here?”

“Why did you come?”

“I asked you first, but I have a feeling you’re just going to keep us talking in circles. I came because I wanted to know what you were up to.”

“As you can see,” I say, spreading my hands, “I just wanted us to have a pleasant dinner together.”

She sighs. “How long are we going to keep up this game, Your Highness?”

“You tell me. You have yet to tell me what happens in ninety-seven days, even though it obviously affects me.”

“Nothing happens. I’ve already told you—”

“Lies. And every time you open your mouth, you lie again. I—”

The sounds of approaching laughter cuts me off. I glance around. Someone’s approaching the courtyard—two someones, judging by the murmur of voices.

Justine stands. “I think that’s my cue to go.”

Before she can take a step, though, her brother walks into the courtyard—with the absolute last woman I ever want to see on his arm.

Lady Clarissa. I thought I’d left her behind in Montovia. When my brother decided he wouldn’t marry her—for good reason, since she’s certifiably insane—my father charged me with the task of “courting” her for an appropriate amount of time to avoid offense. Even a fake, political courtship with the woman was far, far too much. She represents everything I despise about noblewomen.

The pair stops in surprise when they see us—apparently they thought they’d have some privacy out here. Slowly, though, Reginald’s look of surprise shifts into a wicked grin.

“Well, well, well,” he says. “What have we here?”