Recklessly Royal(88)

“Miss Rousseau, this is a very respectable restaurant. I suggest you leave and not cause a scene. I will call security if I need to.”

“I suggest you go ask the duchess if she’s expecting me, or go ahead and call security and you can expect a scene. Then when she sees you escorting me out of the restaurant, you can explain why you sent me away.”

“I’ll go. This once.” He eyed me for a long moment before sighing heavily. “If it turns out you are not an invited member of their party, I will be returning with security.”

“And you can apologize when you get back with your tail between your legs.” Operation Pissed was coming into play. I had a hard time holding my tongue when I got into that mode.

The man sniffed again and I was tempted to offer him a tissue but bit the inside of my cheek instead. “We’ll see.”

He walked away from the little podium and the blond hostess took his place. She ignored me as if I wasn’t there, and that was just fine by me. I slid closer and looked at the sheet in front of her. Just before she covered it with her arm, my eyes landed on my name.

“Oh, now that’s just rude.” I turned away and quickly followed the old man to a table in the center of the room. Those petty jerks were trying to keep me out because they thought I didn’t belong? Because of my truck or my clothes?

My furious stride made quick work of the space between the door and the table Alfred was standing next to. I caught up to him in time to hear the last of his words.

“She looks rather questionable.”

“The ‘rather questionable’ woman is standing right behind you.” You stupid little dildo. I glared at his head, barely registering the people at the table until they stood up.

“I was told the Parallel, and I would assume its restaurant, was used to hosting dignitaries and royalty.” The woman’s voice was calm and cool. “Your tone would be embarrassing no matter who you thought Lady Rousseau was.”

My eyes jerked to the woman and I wondered if the duchess was losing her mind. Perhaps it was appropriate to address people by Lady or Sir in their country. Her mouth twitched in amusement as she watched the man grovel and I decided she must be teaching him a lesson. She might be my hero.

“I’m so sorry, I had no idea. . . .” The Alfred wannabe was sputtering apologies and it took all my willpower to keep from rolling my eyes.

“No, don’t apologize to me. Apologize to Lady Rousseau.” Her eyes twinkled when she looked at me.

“My apologies, Miss—I mean, Lady Rousseau.”

I bowed my head a little. “Accepted. Perhaps you shouldn’t be so quick to judge next time.”

“Yes, my lady. May I take your coat?”

I shrugged out of my coat and that’s when I felt his eyes on me. Looking up, I realized Prince Yummy had indeed come for the dinner. Jess and the undergrads had been wrong. He wasn’t yummy, he was delicious; a feast to be savored. Dark blond hair hung a smidge too long, eyes so blue it was like looking into the heart of a glacier. Built like the statue of David; the contours of his suit hugging every delicious muscle. Laugh lines around his mouth and eyes brought him into the realm of humanity, and gave him a personality. As his eyes ran over my face and down my body slowly, heat washed over my skin. When I handed the jacket to the maître d’ I felt naked. There was something about his bright blue eyes that left me feeling exposed.

“Thank you, Alfred.” I mumbled the words, feeling completely off guard by the look I’d just received. The man left without a word, and I really hoped he didn’t do anything nasty to my jacket.

“Alfred?” The prince’s mouth quirked on one side, revealing a dimple, and I wondered if a dimple could kill a person. It was possible I was having a heart attack right now. “Is that his name?”

“Oh, you know. He looks a bit like Batman’s butler, but without the wicked sense of humor.” I winced. I was speaking to a prince, a real live prince, and my first interaction was describing a comic-book character. At least I wasn’t a slobbering mess looking at him.

“I vaguely recall something about Batman and his butler.” The prince’s eyes glittered mischievously. I felt my mouth twist a little, relieved he had gotten my ill-timed sense of humor. “I would have pegged him more as Jarvis. Slow, annoyed voice.”

“Samantha, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” The duchess held her hand out for me, and for a brief moment I panicked, not sure if I was supposed to bow over it or shake it. I decided if she was in America I was just going to shake it. Her fingers were dry and warm, her grip surprisingly tight. “I’m Rose.”