is that how you judge men—by whether they give you what you want?’
Lizzie raised delicate eyebrows in well simulated surprise. ‘But of course. What other yardstick is there?’
‘Are you by any chance trying to flirt with me, Miss Boothe?’
‘Certainly not,’ she said, shocked. ‘It would be improper for any woman to flirt with the King.’
‘True.’
‘It’s for the King to flirt with her.’
Her demure tone took him off guard, and he frowned, as though unsure that he’d heard her correctly. Then he smiled, cautiously.
‘And if the King didn’t flirt with her?’ he asked. ‘Might she not show a little enterprise in the matter?’
‘She wouldn’t dare,’ Lizzie informed him, straight-faced. ‘Lest he think her impertinent.’
‘I don’t think you fear the opinion of any man, Miss Boothe.’
‘But Your Majesty is a king, not a man.’
‘Is that what you think?’
She looked straight into his face, saying demurely, ‘I’m waiting for you to tell me what to think.’
‘By heaven, you’re a cool one!’ he exclaimed softly.
‘But of course. A woman would need to stay cool when entering the bear’s cave,’ she pointed out. ‘Unless she’s well protected.’
‘You, I think, are protected by your effrontery.’
‘Oh, dear! I have offended Your Majesty.’
His eyes gleamed. ‘Do not fish for compliments, Miss Boothe.’
‘Is that what I was doing?’ she murmured.
‘Yes. And it was quite unnecessary.’
There were a dozen ways to take that but, raising a questioning eyebrow to him, she sensed exactly what he was telling her and a swift excitement scurried through her veins.
She hadn’t meant this to happen. So far and no further. That had been the idea. Flirt with him, intrigue him until he was putty in her hands. It had worked before.
‘Use your charms to bring them to heel,’ Dame Elizabeth had always advised. ‘What else are charms for?’
But it had never been part of the plan for him to charm her. Now matters were getting out of hand. Beneath his stiff exterior this man had a devil in his eyes. Lizzie had an uneasy feeling that he’d sized her up and decided he could deal with her.
But how? That was the question that made her blood race. Whatever the answer she decided she was going to enjoy it, and if she could gain her professional goals as well, so much the better.
‘The music is ending,’ Daniel observed. ‘But our talk is just beginning. I’ve ordered champagne served on the terrace.’
Two hundred pairs of eyes watched him lead her from the floor and through the French windows that led onto the broad terrace. A footman was just laying down a tray bearing two fluted glasses and a bottle. Daniel waved him away, indicated for Lizzie to sit at the small table, and himself did the pouring.
‘So you’re writing a book about my grandfather?’ he said, putting the glass into her hand and seating himself opposite. Through the tall windows Lizzie could see couples swirling by as the dance resumed, and hear the soft swell of music. But she was intensely conscious of the King, watching her closely, as though she was the only person in the world. ‘Why do you wish to do this?’
‘Because he’s fascinated me all my life,’ she replied. ‘Aunt Lizzie told me so much about him, and about Voltavia. She made it sound like a wonderful country.’
‘It is a wonderful country. And I know she had many admirers there. Among whom, of course, was the King.’
‘She always kept the medals and decorations he gave her. She was a compulsive hoarder. I don’t think she ever threw anything away. When she died she left everything to me, and I still have them all—the medals, the scrapbooks, even some of her costumes.’
‘You must have meant a great deal to her.’
‘She was my grandfather’s sister and almost the only family I had. When I was ten my parents died and she took me in. She was thought very scandalous when she was young, but when I knew her she’d become Dame Elizabeth Boothe, and very respectable.’
‘And I suppose you were completely in her confidence?’
Lizzie considered. ‘Not completely. I don’t think she told everything to anyone. She lived in the public eye but she kept many secrets.’
‘But some secrets are harder to keep than others.’
‘If you mean the fact that King Alphonse admired her, no, that was hardly a secret, especially with all the jewellery he gave her.’
‘He gave her jewels? I must admit I didn’t know that.’
Lizzie touched the diamond necklace and matching earrings that blazed against her fair skin. ‘These came from him.’
Daniel looked hard at the flashing gems. ‘Magnificent,’ he murmured. ‘Clearly he valued her a great deal. But how did she value him?’
‘She kept his photograph on her wall to the end of her life.’ Daniel shrugged, and she said quickly, ‘No, it wasn’t just a formal picture. It was inscribed in his own handwriting.’
He was suddenly alert. ‘What did he write?’
‘“In friendship and gratitude, Alphonse,”’ Lizzie replied.
‘“Friendship and gratitude,”’ Daniel repeated slowly. ‘Yes, my grandfather was a restrained man. I can imagine him using such words when what he really meant was something else—something a great deal more intense and emotional.’
There was a new note in his voice as he said the last words that made the silence hang heavy between them. For a mad moment Lizzie wondered if she’d strayed into something that was too much for her. This man held every card in the pack, yet she was trying to gamble with him on equal terms. It was heady wine, and his sudden urgent tone made it headier still.
The music of the waltz was floating out onto the terrace.
‘Dance with me,’ he commanded, taking her into his arms without waiting for her answer.
In the ballroom he had danced correctly, preserving the proper distance of a few inches between them, and touching her back so lightly that she’d barely felt it. Now he held her close enough for her to feel his breath on her bare shoulder, and his hand was firm in the small of her back. She had said that he was only a king, not a man. And she’d been so wrong.
‘What do they call you?’ he murmured. ‘Liz?
