not proper for a sister to speak of her brother’s mistresses, but Shay has had a few over the years, and they’ve tended to be…ordinary. Nothing to upend his schedule or take any part of his stupendously large mind away from things that actually interest him.”
Her sister-in-law frowned. “But this Sarah is a marquis’s daughter, and new to London. Making her his mistress could ruin her, couldn’t it? That doesn’t seem like something Shay would—”
“No, it isn’t.” Eleanor chuckled. “This is going to be very interesting.” She signaled for Dawson to head the team toward home before the rain could begin. “And we are not going to tell Sebastian anything. Melbourne will want to step in, one way or the other, and for once I’d like to see what happens when he doesn’t meddle.”
“You think he won’t find out?”
“I think if anyone can keep him from doing so, it will be Shay.”
“Oh, dear,” Caroline sighed, her eyes dancing with amusement, “this is going to be interesting, isn’t it?”
“I should hope so.”
Charlemagne directed his driver to head around the boundary of the park, while he pointed out various sites of historical or political interest along the way. Thank God he’d grown up in London, because whatever power Sarala had initially possessed to distract him had increased tenfold. Despite his best efforts to remain focused on a strategy to acquire the silks, he continually found himself simply…gazing at her. If he’d ever been this diligent in studying an opponent before, he couldn’t remember it. Of course he’d never given a business rival a ruby necklace, either.
She leaned forward, tapping his left knee with elegant fingers. “What is that?”
He blinked, looking in the direction she gestured. “Kensington Palace. The royal family used it as their main residence until about fifty or so years ago.”
“It’s stunning. Who lives there now?”
He smiled. “That depends on the time of year. At the moment it’s the Duchess of Kent and her daughter, Princess Victoria. Would you care for a tour?”
“Heavens, no. I wouldn’t intrude.” She eyed him. “You could do that? You know them?”
Only someone who’d never lived in London would ask that question. “We’re third cousins, or some such thing.” He turned from the familiar sight of the palace to Sarala. He needed to make a move; it was time he wasn’t the only one searching for footing. “Your mother hasn’t seen you yet today, has she?”
Green eyes narrowed. “Why do you say that? Do you think I need her approval to engage in business?”
Covering his smile, Charlemagne reached out and touched her dangling left ear bob with his forefinger. “I was referring to these,” he said, brushing his fingers against her cheek as he withdrew again. Soft as summer.
She covered the jewelry with both hands. “We are not here to discuss my jewelry. What’s wrong with them, anyway?”
“Not a thing. They’re lovely. And they suit you. Amethyst peacocks. I had just assumed that since your mother’s changed your name, she’s attempting to…minimize any appearance of foreign influences about your person.”
“You’re very forward to make that assumption.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Am I wrong?”
“Very well, no. You’re correct. My mother probably wouldn’t approve of my wearing them. They were a gift from a friend, however.” Sarala drew a breath. “And speaking of gifts, I cannot accept one from you.”
He’d wondered how he would bring up the topic of the ruby necklace. She’d beaten him to it. “Why can’t you accept it?”
“Because whatever it is, we are barely acquainted, and besides, we—”
“‘Whatever it is?’” he interrupted, frowning. Surely she’d been curious enough to at least take a peek. “You didn’t look at it?”
Sarala shifted slightly away from her maid, as if that would prevent the girl from hearing every word of the conversation. “As I was