Page 8 of The Duke's Virgin
“I know.” He sighed pragmatically. “We are our mothers’ children.”
A couple drifted by, and he nodded at them. “The happily engaged couple. Geraint, with the Princess Katrina of Lichtenstein. Geraint’s father is the Grand Duke of Luxembourg.”
“I’m in the presence of such royalty,” I said, teasing him. “How did they meet?The Bachelor: European Royalsedition?”
“Don’t go saying that out loud,” he muttered. “You’ll give somebody ideas. And…no. I think they’ve vaguely known each other off and on for years, but not long ago, Princess Katrina’s oldest brother was killed in an accident.” He hesitated a moment, and I saw a flicker in his eyes that told me he’d been friendly, at least, with the young woman’s brother.
“I’m sorry.” I touched his arm.
He covered my hand with his and nodded. “Thank you. We were friends. Not close, but friends nonetheless. Geraint briefly spoke with her at the funeral and has been starry-eyed ever since, from what I’ve heard. Not that he’d admit to that. He waited about a year for the sake of propriety, then asked her out.”
“Propriety?”
“Her brother was next in line to rule Lichtenstein. Since then, that’s fallen to the next oldest, her brother, Prince Bastian.”
“So many titles.”
“Oh, that’s just the start…come on.” He gave me another quick smile, then took my hand, giving a quick tug.
Thirty minutes later, my head full of names and titles and quick little snatches of background information, I stood on the sideline, sipping water while Aeric spoke to an acquaintance. He’d tried to draw me into the conversation, but I wanted a few minutes to just breathe, and he’d gotten the point, chatting softly while I waited a few steps away.
That put me in the perfect position to witness a terribly intimate moment. A couple had their heads close together, murmuring softly as they came to a stop at the edge of the dance floor. He lifted his hand and stroked it down her neck. She shivered in response. I could see it from several feet away.
That was all that happened. Nothing improper or vulgar. But standing there watching, it hit me hard that I’d never had that sort of connection. Even a brief one.
Thinking of my decidedly lonely social life back home, all the pressure I was facing from my mother, none of that helped the odd ache suddenly weighing me down.
A loneliness that wouldn’t be getting better any time soon.
That was just a grim reality. The men at home who showed any interest usually fell into one of two categories. They were pushed toward me by my mother or people in her circle. Or they knew enough about me on their own and decided to ‘try their luck,’as one arrogant douchebag had informed me after I declined several invitations to dinner. “You really are an ice princess, aren’t you?” he’d said. “I thought I’d try my luck…nobody can be that icy, but I guess you proved me wrong.
It was enough to make just about any woman leery.
Melancholy, I watched the couple from under my lashes until they broke apart. A moment later, they were gone. I swung my gaze away only to find myself staring at another couple, these two engaged in a light flirtation.
Something else I hadn’t experienced.
Was I the only one?
I wasn’t. Logically, I knew that.
Just like logically, I knew my intentional isolation didn’t help me much on the social front. I’d earned myIce Princessreputation all on my own, and the social circle I moved in—when forced—was decidedly small. They all knew I was somewhat withdrawn, although they assumed it was just because I was stand-offish, uptight, and as snooty as my parents.
That wasn’t the problem. It just took me a while to open up to people. A bit of shyness mixed in was all it took to convince others my age that I was just cold.
Having that rep—and having a father who could buy any given block in New York City at the drop of a whim—didn’t exactly make meapproachable. Besides, I had to worry about gossip back home, because I definitely didn’t want to feed my mother’s obsession, nor did I want to start up a relationship with someone intent on garnering my family connections—and the money.
Or somebody who might be working with my mother in some miserable match making attempt.
But nobody here knows.
The idea hit me then.
Suddenly, like a bolt of lightning.
Nobody here knows…
Nobody knew about my Ice Princess rep. Nobody knew about my parents’ money or their social standing or anything else about me.
