Lady Sara said, "If you will excuse us, Charles and I must speak with someone who has just arrived. I hope to see you again soon, Your Highness."
As Lady Sara turned and walked away, Peregrine saw that she walked with a slight hesitation, not quite a limp. Perhaps that had something to do with the ghosts of old pain that he saw in her eyes? He could ask Ross, but it would be more interesting to discover the truth on his own. No man or woman was civilized all the way through, and it would be intriguing to discover what untamed currents lay beneath the lady's calm surface.
* * *
As they made their way toward the bishop who was going to marry them, Charles remarked, "Interesting fellow, that prince. A friend of Lord Ross's, I assume?" When Sara nodded, he asked, "Is Kafiristan an Indian state?"
"No, it lies beyond India, in the mountains of the Hindu Kush," Sara explained. "The land is very wild and virtually unexplored by Westerners."
"He must be an unusual man to leave his mountains for the wider world," Charles murmured. "I gather he's wealthy?"
"Quite fabulously so, according to Ross. Apparently he started with a substantial fortune, and has multiplied it by trading throughout the Orient."
"The prince seemed taken with you, Sara. Encourage the acquaintance. He could be a valuable man to know."
"I have already agreed to advise him." Sara's voice was cool. It was one thing for Ross to ask her to sponsor his friend, another to have her future husband order her to cultivate a potential investor.
But Charles wanted a gracious hostess who would enhance his status in the worlds of business and society. She could hardly object when he asked her to play that role.
Chapter 3
The morning after her garden party, Sara was just finishing a late breakfast with her father when the butler entered, a bemused expression on his face. "Your ladyship, you have a visitor. He claims to be some sort of prince."
"Good heavens," she said blankly. Then she laughed, feeling suddenly buoyant. "Father, would you like to meet the gentleman I was telling you about?"
Disapproval showed on the Duke of Haddonfield's cool aristocratic face. "Doesn't he know what proper calling hours are?"
"Obviously not. However, since everyone seems to want me to educate him, he soon will." Sara drained her tea cup, then followed the butler.
The prince was looking out one of the windows when she entered the drawing room. Sara paused a moment to admire the way his dark, well-cut clothing emphasized his broad shoulders and lean body. One could only hope that more Kafirs would find their way to England.
Then he turned and gave her an enchanting smile. "I hope the time is not inconvenient? You did give me permission to make a morning call."
She smiled and offered her hand. "I forgot to mention that morning calls are made in the afternoon."
As he straightened from bowing over her hand, the prince raised his thick black brows. "Morning calls occur in the afternoon? That is not logical."
"You must not expect society to be logical, Your Highness," Sara commented, then added the reminder, "The hand?"
"Ah, yes, it must be released." His green eyes sparkling, the prince relinquished Sara's hand.
"Why do I have the feeling that you are using your foreign status to be outrageous?" she asked, trying to sound severe.
"I have no idea. Perhaps you have a naturally suspicious mind," he replied, brimming with innocence. He thought a moment. "I could return this afternoon to make my morning call, but doubtless at that time your house will be full of others who are calling to express thanks for your estimable party. In such a crowd, you would have no time to correct my errors. That being the case, you should let me take you for a drive now, so you will have ample time to educate me."
Sara eyed him admiringly. "I see why you are such a successful merchant. You could sell sand to a Bedouin." Before she could say more, the door opened and a line of three maids entered, each one carrying a huge vase of white roses.
As she stared at the parade of flowers, Peregrine said, "Roses are an acceptable token of gratitude for a hostess?"
She nodded, rather dazed. "Yes, though usually the quantity would be smaller. Much, much smaller."
He smiled, the tanned skin crinkling around his eyes. "But I had an exceedingly good time, many roses' worth." The maids having set the flowers on various tables and withdrawn, he moved to the nearest vase and pulled out a single blossom. His gaze holding hers, the prince inhaled the flower's fragrance, then offered it to Sara. "White roses, for sweetness and purity. There are not enough in London to do you justice."