Page 9 of The Duke's Virgin
I didn’t have to worry about that stuff popping up and becoming a barrier, did I?
Sure, I couldn’t find some magical cure to my loneliness, but I wasn’t expecting that. My parents’ business-like, tidy marriage had opened my eyes to the idea of aromance. But there was more to relationships than romance, right?
I was also a virgin at twenty-three. I didn’t even knowhowto approach a guy and that got in the way of things too. If I couldn’t figure out how to approach a man, how was I supposed to get past this awkward thing on my end? I could always be the initiator back home, which would help when it came to circumventing parental hookups, but first I needed to figure all of that out.
If I fumbled things here, it wouldn’t matter. Nobody knew me, and I’d never see this hypothetical someone again.
My mind started to race.
Four
Luka
I’d stayed only as late aswas polite at the party, ready to retire to my quarters so I could be alone.
Turning in early, I got a relatively decent night’s sleep and woke fully rested and ready to go when the alarm went off.
My parents had off-handedly mentioned breakfast plans but didn’t give me any details on said plans. That had been my personal assistant, Stuart. He’d asked what I planned on wearing for the breakfast with the Hereditary Prince, which clued me in. My parents were subtly nudging more and more responsibility onto me, and that often came with having meals or meetings worked into my schedule.
Our country was friendly with Lichtenstein. Luxembourg was friendly with most every country in Europe, but there were some with which we shared a closer relationship.
Lichtenstein was one of them, and I was already friends with the Hereditary Prince, Sebastian Von Brandt. I’d known his older brother, Marcel, better than the younger Von Brandt, but we got along well. We’d spoken briefly at his wedding a little more than a year ago, and once or twice since then.
Now as I finished reviewing the file Stuart had put together, I was grateful of one thing more than any other. At least I wouldn’t be bored senseless during the meal. Bastian and I were close in age and had similar interests, plus his wife was wonderful.
Stuart waited in the hall as I left, his round, faintly flushed face folded into an affable smile. “Do you need anything before your breakfast, Your Highness?”
“No.” I gestured down the hall. “I told you it wasn’t necessary to be here today. I’m heading to Monaco later.”
“The race.” His eyes lit. “Are you driving this time or working on the car?”
“Don’t mention the driving,” I warned, shaking my head. My parents would never let me hear the end of it if they knew I’d taken a few turns around the track in a Formula One race car.
They weren’t overly protective, but they were acutely aware of familial responsibilities. I tried to be, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t determined to live my own life as much as I could.
They understood that better than some, but the accident that had killed Marcel had shaken many of the older families in Europe, mine included.
Stuart’s face sobered, although his eyes still reflected amusement. “Of course. But you should know they’re out on a walk with Princess Katrina’s parents, showing them the grounds.”
“Discussing the wedding, I’d bet.” I was glad I hadn’t gotten dragged into that mess.
Stuart gave a quick nod. “I’ll be off if you’re certain you don’t need me. I’ve checked your transportation plans. Everything is set.”
I checked the time as I jogged down the stairs to the formal dining room. We didn’t always use the large one, but with guests in residence—and many of them people like Bastian Von Brandt—everything was formal.
Bastian and his wife were already there, sitting and drinking coffee. Spying me, he went to rise, but I waved him back toward his seat. “Please, don’t.” With a grin, I said, “We know each other well enough not to bother with such etiquette when it’s just us, don’t we?”
“I have no problem with it.” He gestured to Regan as she lowered herself back to her seat. “You remember my wife.”
“Of course.”
She flashed me a smile. “It was a lovely party last night. Katrina was delighted.”
“I’m glad. Your German is improving.”
“Slowly.” She made a face. “Almost everybody in Vaduz speaks English, which makes it easy to be lazy.”
“You’ve got enough on your…” Frowning, I paused, trying to remember the expression.
