Page 27 of A Problem Princess

Christ.He still hadn’t come to terms with yesterday morning’s letter from the regent notifying Clayton of his intentions to grant him a peerage. He didn’t know whether he should be proud of reaching such a high pinnacle or humiliated that he’d done absolutely nothing to earn it.

He grumbled, “I’m not a viscount.”

“My cousin the regent seems to think so.”

He arched a brow. “Your cousin the regent also thinks a man’s value in life is dependent on how well he dresses.”

“Nice uniform.” Her eyes gleamed mischievously as she reached out to pluck at the medals on his chest the same way she’d plucked at the flower petals. “Is this why he made you a viscount?”

“No.” He crossed his arms in consternation. “He did that to torture me.”

She laughed, and the sound floated soft and lovely on the spring air. It wrapped itself around him like a silk ribbon and tugged him even closer to her. Yet he didn’t dare touch her, certainly not here in the open, certainly not after Marcus’s reprimand for the first kiss.

But damnation, he very much wanted to.

“If you don’t trust me completely,” he asked, “then why agree to let me oversee your guard?”

She hesitated and bit her bottom lip. The small gesture had him aching to kiss her mouth until it softened.

Dear God, he was going mad!

“You’ll laugh if I tell you the truth,” she admitted.

“Try me.”

“You put your life at risk for mine when you didn’t even know who I was.” She searched his face as she gauged her words. “It was the most heroic act I’ve ever seen.”

A man could certainly grow used to hearing such compliments. He fought back a smile. “Well, I—”

“And you were rude.”

His head snapped up. “That’s not a compliment.”

“It is, actually.” Amusement curled her lips. “You didn’t know I was a princess, and once you found out, you didn’t care. You were blunt and direct, and you treated me like a regular woman. You’re the only person except for my parents who ever has.”

Thatdidn’t sound like a compliment either. “I should apologize.”

“Please don’t. It meant a great deal to me.” She sized him up with a direct, honest look. “You might often visit the palace, but you don’t know what it’s like to be a royal, to lead a life that is never truly yours.” She gazed across the lake and blinked against the reflection of the bright sunlight on the water. “Royals belong to their country the same way the army does or the navy—or perhaps more like a fine porcelain vase, passed down from generation to generation, yet little more than a vessel for the state.”

“A precious object to be treasured,” he countered.

With a grimace at that bit of flattery, she turned and began to walk slowly along the edge of the lake. He fell into step beside her, slowing his long strides to match her shorter ones. How could someone so petite and delicate be so powerful?

“Perhaps not a porcelain vase,” she admitted, staring down at the tips of her shoes that poked out from beneath her skirt as they walked through the grass and back into view of the lawn party. “And perhaps not like Princess Sophia either.”

“Thank God,” he muttered beneath his breath and earned himself an easy laugh from her.

Then her bright smile faded, and she tucked behind her ear a stray curl that had come loose in the breeze. “But we have no meaningful place in the world outside palace walls, and even inside those walls a royal still has to do what is expected. Take my cousin the prince regent, for example. Do you ever wonder why he is the way he is? Or his brothers and sisters?”

“All the time,” he blew out in a long sigh.

Thankfully, she ignored his grumble. “It’s because of the way they were raised. Strict lessons from dawn to dusk and rapped knuckles for not being faster learners, then paraded out every evening in front of the king and queen to recite what they’d learned that day and always berated for not doing better. Living in cold and austere nurseries and bedrooms with nannies who were told that too much affection and praise would make them weak, taught by tutors who were ordered to withhold dinner if the children didn’t do well enough on their studies.” She trailed her palm over the leaves and bright pink flowers of a bush as they passed. “It’s little wonder that once they escaped their parents’ control, they grabbed for all the freedoms and pleasures they could.”

He didn’t disagree. Being raised by Farmer George couldn’t have been easy.

“Still, they don’t do anything worse than other royals across the Continent—or even some peers here in England. But because they’re royals, they’re criticized for it.”

He waved a hand to encompass the palace and grounds. “British citizens pay for all this. Aren’t they entitled to hold their rulers to higher standards?”