The Blood Royal(58)

He was chattering – still uncomfortable with his briefing task. He battled on. ‘No. You’re to look on me as no more than your escort – your chaperon for the evening – which, if all goes according to plan, you will spend in the close company of the aforementioned bachelor. Now – let me check – can you dance? Foxtrot? Quickstep? That sort of thing? Not a detail one finds mentioned in the files.’

‘Five years of Saturday mornings at the Stretton Academy of Tap Dance and Terpsichore. It didn’t seem relevant information for my application form. I dance adequately but I’m no Adele Astaire.’

‘Should be good enough. Now – your partner for the evening is an exceptionally good dancer. I’ve seen him performing. He’ll steer you around the floor all right. And his name’s David. He’ll expect you to call him David when you’re alone together.’

Lily’s voice was chill with suspicion. ‘I think I begin to see why you checked my height and weight. Should I be thankful that I chose to wear low-heeled shoes, sir?’ She stuck out her right foot for his inspection.

‘Ah! You’ve guessed.’ He made a show of examining her foot. ‘Not too high, not too low. Good choice. Calfskin, would they be?’ This was bluff and bluster, but Joe couldn’t help indulging in it to cover his unease. She waited for him to get to the point. ‘Well, don’t try running off in them before midnight, will you?’ His tone was playfully apologetic. He even wagged a finger. ‘Your partner is full of youth and vigour and keeps late hours. You’re to stay locked in a tango with him for as long into the night as he wishes.’

At last he’d shown his hand.

‘They’re not calfskin, these shoes. They’re antelope. A creature known for its fleet-footedness in escaping from predatory animals,’ Lily said sweetly. And added, ‘Be they princes or their pimps. Proxenetism is not, it would seem, the exclusive preserve of the lower classes.’

Joe reeled back in his chair as though he’d received a slap in the face. He drew himself together and breathed in deeply. He got to his feet and began to prowl up and down behind her. ‘I can see I’ve gone about this the wrong way,’ he muttered. ‘I would never have approached a matter of such national importance under an umbrella of obscurity and subterfuge with a male colleague. It was thought – by those who know little of the modern female – that, if approached directly, you might run off squawking with indignation at what we had to propose and scupper the whole thing. Under strict orders to reveal nothing until the very last moment. Had to find out what you were made of before I could entrust you with the knowledge. It’s not something a woman can just walk away from. Not used to employing females, you see. That’s it. Makes a difference.’

She swivelled round to look at him directly. ‘No, sir. You’re deceiving yourself. You’re not accustomed to dealing with females of my class. Had your cousin Margery been able to tango convincingly and been chosen for this assignment you’d have been easy and forthcoming in your briefing. She’d have been consulted, her opinion sought. I also would be intrigued to hear what you have in mind for me, having gone to quite a lot of bother to prepare myself for it. But I reserve the right to refuse.’ She sighed in exasperation. ‘Oh, sir! You make me sound off like Goody Two Shoes. I wish you’d just pretend I’m one of your sergeants and set out the proposal in a no-nonsense military manner. It’s a style I’m used to.’

This was an invitation Joe couldn’t resist and it sounded very like a capitulation. The game might still be on. He broke into a grin. ‘Can’t say I’m accustomed to shouting the order to go over the top to a princess all kitted out in gold bells and ribbons,’ he admitted. ‘But here goes. You want the full picture – here it is.’

He returned to his seat and began to brief her for the night’s work.



‘So there you are. It’s a duty, I think you’ll agree, that no patriotic Englishwoman can refuse. There is no greater service you can do for your country. And there is no one better placed than yourself to render this service. Indeed, there is no one else. If you refuse to play your part, no understudy will step forward. You were carefully chosen. But what we’re proposing is dangerous. Damned dangerous. The best I can say is – I’ll be there. I won’t take my eyes off you – I’ll be watching you every minute.’

‘How glad I shall be of that, sir.’

Sarcasm? He’d deserved it.

Sensing her response was feeble, she followed up by putting a sting in the tail. ‘And, if nothing else, there’ll be a reliable witness of the incident when my bullet-riddled body falls at the feet of the future king of England halfway through the last waltz.’