My Unfair Lady (11 page)

   The dowager duchess didn't seem to notice. "That's what I told him, Your Highness. But he still insists on wearing the long."

   Prince Albert frowned. "Madam, I believe the next race is about to begin…"

   "Oh, of course. Please excuse me." And the dowager duchess half curtsied to him, nodding her head at Lord and Lady Karlton to follow, continuing to nod regally at the prince's retinue as she passed in front of their seats.

   Before she left, Summer overheard Lady Karlton when she bent down and whispered into the duke's ear. "The old bat didn't even give me a chance to greet HRH. Really, Your Grace, you must arrange an opportunity for me to exchange a few words with him. After all, what's family for?"

   Summer stared from the elegant lady, covered in brocade silk and dripping with jewels, to the woman's husband, attired in the latest fashion, with a golden fob and diamonds on his fingers, to Byron and his simply cut clothing, slightly worn at the hems and shoulders. Each time she'd met them they'd asked His Grace for favors, yet they showed off their wealth to him with a superi ority that they either failed to acknowledge or didn't see.

   "Did ya' see the black?" asked Maria, finding her voice quickly and loudly. "Did ya' see the way he pelted across the finish line? I knew that pony'd win! Where do ya' place the bets around here, anyway?"

   A shocked silence descended on all those within hearing distance. Lady Karlton snickered again as she walked away.

   "I don't think ladies can wager," began Summer.

   "Only gentlemen can," said the duke.

   Prince Albert leaned over, his eyes sparkling with renewed interest. "And who have we here?"

   Summer smiled, her lips wobbling a bit when she heard Byron groan, but she held the grin anyway. "This is my companion, Maria Sanchez, from Tombstone, Arizona."

   "An interesting name to call a place," said the prince. "What's your background, my dear?"

   It seemed that every ear within eavesdropping distance leaned toward the two American girls, waiting with bated breath for the answer. Summer wished another race would start.

   Maria glanced from the prince to the duke, a wicked smile on her lips. Then she looked at Summer, who gave her a worried frown. Her friend sighed. "My mother and father passed on when I was very young, sir. I raised myself in a mining town and then met Summer, and we've been together since."

   The prince chuckled. "Do you mean to say that you both come from a Western town… like that Annie Oakley woman?"

   "I seen those billboards advertising that Wild West show and can't say as I'm like her," answered Maria. "But Summer here, now she can really shoot!"

   "Is that so?" Both the prince and the duke turned and stared at Summer.

   "I should have known," muttered the duke.

   "I find it vastly entertaining that you didn't," barked the prince. "Who knows what other talents she possesses, eh, Monchester?" He jabbed the shorter man with his elbow. "Well, we must have a demonstration of her talent, musn't we, old man? Bring her round to Sandringham for the party next weekend… and her informative companion as well."

   His voice rang with command. The duke responded with a nod of his head. "As Your Highness wishes."

   Yet another group of aristocracy came over to give their regards to the prince, and Summer felt a weight lift as the attention of the great man focused elsewhere.

   "Why did you sound so reluctant to accept the invitation?" she whispered to the duke. "Didn't you tell me that an invitation to the prince's country house would ensure my social success?"

   "As a guest, my dear. Not as the entertainment."

   Summer snapped open her fan and began to vigorously wave it in her face. She turned to speak with Maria, but her friend was already absorbed in a conversation with a rather nice-looking older gentleman, who nodded and grinned in fascination at whatever her friend was saying. Summer sighed and turned back to the racetrack. Maria seemed to be having a grand time, and it made Summer feel even more disappointed. She'd thought that when she'd meet the prince it would be, well, romantic almost. That he'd clasp her hand and speak with such elegance that she'd swoon. Instead, he seemed like any other man, and they'd had an astonishing conversation, and now Byron told her she'd be a freak attraction in the prince's home.

   Nothing had gone the way she'd thought it would. And she kept hearing the duke's words, that he wouldn't marry her if she were the last…

   "By the way," she whispered, "I wouldn't marry you if you were the last man on earth! Why, compared to Monte, you're uncouth, crude, and just downright ornery. So there!" Summer slammed back in her chair. Well, that didn't quite come out the way she would've liked. Tarnation, she'd sounded just like a child.

   Prince Albert stifled a laugh when Byron abruptly stood and bowed to him, asking for his leave to depart. Summer had noticed that the prince had only been half listening to Sir Michael's obviously rehearsed speech on the plight of the landless gentry. That he'd had his attention fixed on her and the duke. For some reason he seemed unusually interested in their conversation and now looked as if he'd like to tease the duke for his anger. But he gave them leave to depart with a smile and a wave, making Byron promise to bring Summer to Sandringham.

   "Maria," said Summer. "The duke wants to leave now."

   "What? I'm just starting to have fun!" Maria pouted quite prettily at the man she sat next to, and patted his arm. "Summer, meet Hugh, uh, Lord Balkett of something-or-other."

   The elder man mumbled something in her ear. "Oh yes. Lord of Hanover, a baron. He says he'll escort me home if ya'll let me stay. Can I?"

   Summer glanced at Byron, but he just shrugged. "I'm not sure it's proper…"

   "Tarnation, yore starting to sound like His Grace. Yore the one who made me come…" Again, the elder man mumbled something to Maria that Summer couldn't hear. "There now, His Lordship says Byr… uh, the duke there can vow… vouch for his reputation."

   The duke bowed to the man in acknowledgment, and Summer nodded. That meant she'd have to drive home alone with His Grace, but she couldn't be selfish and drag Maria away just because of that. Dadburn it.

   Byron led her through the throng of people in stony silence, those who knew him clearing out of his way at the look on his face.
Bloody hell
, he thought,
why did she have to be so unusual?
Every time he turned around he found out something newly disturbing about her. Oh, he'd hoped Prince Albert would find her amusing, and that eventually she'd get invited to Sandringham, but this sudden profound interest by the prince had him concerned that he'd treat Summer as an oddity, instead of as the lady she needed to be.

   He glanced at the girl beside him, the way she flowed across the packed dirt, barely scuffing up the dust. How would he ever get her accepted into proper society if all these hidden talents of hers kept being revealed? Oh, he knew some women could shoot a rifle as well as any man, but they had the common sense not to flaunt it. And he'd just been congratulating himself on teaching her not to use a knife; now he had to worry about firearms!

   He escorted her into the carriage, tossing a suspicious look at the coachman to make sure he was the same one he'd hired. Once inside, Byron sat staring out the window as they returned to the inn, trying to analyze his feelings. He knew he wasn't this upset over the fact that she could use a gun. It had to be something else. But he refused to admit that he might be angry about her declaration that she'd never marry him. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been this annoyed over mere words, and he knew that her marriage comment was just tit for tat, and entirely true. After all, she was an engaged woman. So why did it bother him?

   He turned and found that she'd been staring out her own window in stony silence as well. "You
are
engaged, aren't you?"

"What?"

   "You and this Monte fellow have an
official
engage ment, correct?"

   Her face flushed, and she batted a hat feather out of her face. "I don't see how that's any concern of yours."

   "I think it might, considering that you hired me to sponsor you so that you could marry him."

   Summer swatted at the feather again and decided she'd had just about enough of Mr. Worth's accessory, and began pulling out the hatpins that secured it to her head. "That's personal, remember? We don't discuss personal things." She was still so annoyed at him that she didn't even use the opportunity to barter one of her own questions out of him.

   Byron watched her struggle with the hat for a moment, trying to find all the pins. That golden brown hair of hers started to tumble in a mess around her face, reminding him of the first time he'd laid eyes on her. "I'll trade you the answer by helping to remove your hat."

   Summer sighed. The man just couldn't help turning a conversation into a bargaining tool. "I'm perfectly capable of getting the stupid thing off myself." Unable to find all the pins, she ripped out a few chunks of hair, but did manage to remove it. "You need to hurry up and fulfill your side of the bargain. I'm sick and tired of fancy hats and dresses and, worst of all, corsets. I want to go home."

   And she tossed the hat at him.

   His astonished face almost made her forget her temper and giggle at him, but she'd just discovered that she missed her mountain and the desert, that when she spoke of home, that's where she meant. Not New York, where Monte waited for her. Tarnation, this man put her all out of sorts.

   He tossed the hat back at her, catching her square across the bosom.

   "Isn't home with your intended? If he's a society man, I see a future filled with dresses and fancy hats. What do you want to wear anyway… trousers?"

   Summer opened her mouth to tell him about the joys of walking in buckskin, when he held up his hand.

   "No, please don't. I've had enough of your revela tions for one day. Just answer my question, are you, or are you not, officially engaged?"

   She liked the way he looked when he got annoyed, his mouth thinning into a hard line, the blue of his eyes turning to ice, his jaw clenched to rock-hardness. He looked delightfully dangerous, and she tilted her head in thought. Had Monte ever looked this way? And decided that no, he didn't have the temper of this man.

   She tossed the hat back at him, hitting him squarely in the crotch. He could just find out that she could be as stubborn as he when it came to revealing personal information. Why, he could sit there all day and scowl at her. "You don't scare me."

   "You, unfortunately, made that very apparent the first day we met." The carriage hit cobblestone, and he knew they only had a short time before they reached the inn, and for some reason, he had to have the answer to his question. Now, what could he possibly… "You can ask me a question, then. I'll answer it."

   Summer lifted a brow in imitation of his own habit, but the hair whipping around her face spoiled the effect. He acted as if he bestowed a gift on the lowly by telling her about himself. "I'm no longer interested in anything about you."

   Byron ripped the feathers from her hat, one by one. His stomach had given a little lurch there when she'd said that, and he knew he'd be really angry if he thought she meant it. But the girl had the curiosity of a cat; she was just being stubborn. He scowled. There had to be something he could threaten her with… "I'll kiss you."

   "What?"

   "Either you answer me, or I get to kiss you. That's the bargain. You choose."

   Summer opened her mouth to tell him what he could do with his kiss, but his face got harder, and her eyes strayed to his lips, and she remembered how easily her body had given in to him. She had her knife, but she wouldn't fight him off, she knew it. The moment he touched her she'd turn all rubbery, and… "Tarnation, we never officially announced an engagement. He asked me to marry him, his relatives wouldn't have anything to do with me, so I set off for London to make myself acceptable. That's all."

   Byron grinned. He'd started to hope that he'd have to kiss her, but for some reason her answer made him feel just as good. He helped her from the carriage when they reached the inn and escorted her inside.

   Summer slammed the door to her room in his face.

   Well, he didn't have time to worry about her snit now; he had to figure out some way to avoid her being a sideshow to the prince's houseguests. But how, when His Highness seemed so bent on flaunting the American's wild ways? He rubbed his nose, checking if any flecks of paint from her door had become embedded in his skin. The Duke of Monchester ignored the questioning eyes of the coachman as he scrambled into the carriage.

"ARE YA' SURE HUGH WILL BE THERE?" ASKED MARIA for the umpteenth time. They hit yet another rut in the road on this long journey to Norfolk, and she steadied India on her shoulder when the monkey squeaked in dismay. Chi-chi took advantage of the distraction and scrambled down from the seat, latching onto Byron's pant leg the moment she hit the floor.