ME, CINDERELLA?(43)

“Cheers,” Eliot said, raising his glass and focusing his attention entirely on Brynn. “What shall we toast?”

“Good luck,” Brynn said. “Or fate. Or math. One of those.”

“To good luck, then,” Eliot said. “Maybe one day I’ll be able to cheer math or fate.”

“To good luck,” Brynn echoed, a darker look in her eye.

Despite Eliot’s desire to avoid recognition, as they clinked their glasses a large, well-dressed man came up to their table. By his swagger, Eliot guessed that he had already had too many glasses of complimentary champagne. He spoke in a broken, heavily accented English.

“The expatriate returns from America! Don’t tell me. Otto has sent his younger brother to get out of coming to the party tonight.” The man’s ruddy face grinned stupidly at Eliot, but Eliot couldn’t place him.

“I’m sorry, you are?”

“Damien, Damien. We meet at a party, oh—ten years ago, it must be.”

“Yes, it must have been.”

“Otto told me you just are now back into town, but I did not believe him. And who is this lovely, lovely young beauty?” He turned to Brynn, who had already downed half of her glass of champagne. She held out her hand and the man pressed her hand to his lips altogether too enthusiastically.

“I’m Brynn.”

“Brynn. You are American too, yes?”

Brynn nodded.

“I always know an American! It’s the pretty eyes. You are pretty enough to be a princess. A princess for a prince!” He slapped Eliot on the shoulder and laughed at his own words.

“A prince?” Brynn looked quizzically up at Eliot. Eliot raised his hand to stop the man, but Damien went on talking.

“The Hercegs, both princes.”

“Not at all,” Eliot said to Brynn, but she was enraptured by Damien’s chatter.

“Really?” she asked, leaning forward.

“Well, if we still had our kings and queens around,” the large man said. “All democracy, now. But still, this one has it in his blood. And you too, now a princess!”

“Damien, it was good to see you,” he said, shaking Damien’s hand firmly, so that there could be no question about his leaving.

“Yes, very good,” Damien said. “I will leave you to your princess.” He winked at Eliot as he left, and Eliot put his head in one hand.

“I didn’t know you were a prince,” Brynn said. A twinkle in her eye teased him, and he took a breath inwardly, trying to brush off the encounter.

“Not anymore. They took back all of the regal titles years and years ago. Before I was born.”

“Good thing they didn’t take back the castle.”

“The castle is nice, isn’t it?” He leaned back in his chair, smiling tightly. Brynn looked tickled to death with the revelation that he was descended from royalty, but perhaps the champagne was simply having an effect on her.

“Do you get to wear a crown?” Brynn asked. Eliot sighed, a half-smile on his lips.

“Perhaps I haven’t made this clear.”

Brynn laughed, her head tossed back, so that he could see her bared throat, the line of skin from her collarbone down to her cleavage. Eliot took a swallow of champagne and tried not to let himself stare.

“The reclusive mathematician is actually Prince Charming in disguise. I like it.”

“Minus the charm. I wonder if you should have any more of that,” he said, as Brynn finished her glass of champagne.

“It’s delicious. Bubbly.” She smiled so becomingly that he did not even mind when the waitress returned to fill her glass.

“I forget you have your college training behind you.”

“Oh, I didn’t drink much at college.”

“Not even at parties?”

“I didn’t really go to many. It’s just, you know, the guys there…” Brynn puckered her face in a frown. “Not the best scene.”

“And you’d rather hang out with the reclusive mathematicians.”

“Only the most regal ones.”

“I don’t suppose I’ll ever get you to forget about the whole prince thing.”

“Not a chance!” Brynn’s eyes sparkled.

The waiter came with the first course of the tasting menu, a rich fig and walnut salad, followed by a tomato bisque and a main course of butter-poached salmon. It pleased Eliot to see Brynn appreciate the meal so thoroughly, although he caught her at times picking apart the food, just as she had the bacon at his house. An endearing idiosyncrasy, he thought. Between the delicious food, the champagne, and the music, the evening was turning out to be a success. Laughter rose in the air and Brynn only cracked a few more jokes about Eliot’s noble heritage. Eliot breathed more lightly and clinked his glass against Brynn’s in a number of toasts before realizing that he was enjoying himself in society for the first time in a long time.