Her Highness, My Wife by Victoria Alexander

residence she had arranged to occupy was large enough to house her traveling companions and staff, yet not overly grand, and was located in a neighborhood both fashionable and discreet. Most of the homes around the square were minimally staffed, their owners retreating to their country estates during the summer months. As such, there were few people about to speculate on exactly who was staying in the home of Lord Westerfield, long a friend of the Avalonian people and loyal to her family. Servants would talk, of course, but then when did they not?
    She adopted a pleasant smile, welcoming yet not overly eager. It would not do to let Matthew know now important his agreement to her proposal was or, in truth, how important he was to her. She was fairly certain he was the type of man who did not especially value what came too easily. Tatiana pushed open the doors and stepped into the salon.
    Matthew leaned casually against the mantel on the opposite side of the room. His worn attire was not up to the standards of the well-appointed parlor, but his demeanor was as proper as if he were dressed in the first stare of fashion. Odd, how she had not before noticed the marks of good breeding in his bearing. He was as comfortable here as he had been in his stables. Or in the gondola of a balloon or, she imagined, the bow of a ship.
    “Lord Matthew.”
    “Your Highness.” He straightened, and his voice held the correct note of deference, yet there was a distinct gleam in his eye. Sarcasm, perhaps.
    “How delightful to see you again.”
    “The delight is mine, Your Highness.” He swept a perfect bow, and again she realized Matthew may not have participated in society as such in any number of years, but it was obvious he was born to it.
    “I did not expect you at such an early hour. It is scarcely midmorning.”
    “Ah, but, Your Highness…” Now there was no mistaking the sarcasm in his tone, as well as his eye. Not simply the subtle way in which he emphasized her position, but the frequency with which he used the proper form of address. Your Highness had a distinctly pointed edge… “every moment we are separated seems a lifetime.”
    “How lovely of you to say so.” She wasn’t entirely sure what polite game of words he was playing, but she could certainly play one of her own. She closed the doors firmly behind her. “And during those moments, that lifetime, did you miss me?”
    The corner of his mouth twitched, as if he were trying not to laugh. “I scarce noted you were gone.”
    She smiled slowly. “That’s precisely what you said yesterday, my lord. Surely you can some up with something more original.”
    “Indeed, I could.” His brows drew together in mock consideration. “But what would it be, I wonder?”
    “Well, you could say you missed me as…”—she thought for a moment—“as the blossom in the heat of the day misses the morning dew.”
    “I doubt it. I should never say anything so absurd.” He shook his head. “Perhaps as the fox misses the hounds. Now, that I might say.”
    “It doesn’t convey quite the right sentiment, though.” She narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. “I should think as the moon misses the evening star to be much better.”
    “Far too sentimental. However, if it’s sentiment we’re after, as the deer misses the hunter conveys the proper feeling.”
    “Not at all.” Her voice was sharp, but her smile stayed firmly in place. “ As the night misses the sun is much more appropriate.”
    “But not as good as as the horse misses the flies about his tail .” Satisfaction rang in his voice.
    “Now, that is original, for everyone save the horse. You do have a way with words, my lord.” Still, it would not do to let him believe he had won. She cast him a triumphant smile. “And regardless of how you choose to say it, it is sufficient to know you did indeed miss me.”
    His eyes widened slightly in surprise, and perhaps appreciation, then he grinned. “Certainly, but only asthe