Pleasuring the Prince by Patricia Grasso

smile. “You would need to lift your skirt if you wanted a kiss there.”
    Fancy blushed a vibrant scarlet. “Do you always seduce women by naming them liars?”
    “Seduction is the furthest thing from my mind.”
    “Who is prevaricating now, Your Highness?” Fancy sighed, reluctant to ruin the evening by bickering. “My father has been generous with his money but not his love.”
    Stepan shrugged. “If you say so.”
    “I do.”
    “Tomorrow evening we will be attending a ball hosted by the Earl and Countess of Winchester, my sister-in-law’s relatives,” Stepan told her.
    “You may attend,” Fancy said by way of a refusal, “but do not count on my presence.”
    “You will accompany me.”
    “I won’t go where I am not wanted.”
    “I want you with me.”
    “I meant, society will frown on my accompanying you.”
    Stepan grinned. “Darling, I am society and promise not to frown at you all evening.”
    Fancy could not decide if she should smile or grind her teeth. And then an age-old excuse popped into her mind. “I have nothing appropriate to wear.”
    “Is that all?” The prince patted her hand. “I will take care of that.”
    “You will not buy me a gown.”
    “Yes, I will.”
    “Do you always get your own way?”
    “Poor, first-born Fancy.” Stepan gave her his most winning smile. “The youngest always gets what he wants.”
    The tenacity of three bulldogs: Fancy amended her earlier opinion. On the other hand, the prince would leave her alone once he witnessed society’s snub.
    “Very well, Stepan. I will attend the ball with you.”
    “I never doubted it.”
    A short time later, the royal coach halted in front of the Flambeau residence in Soho Square. The prince climbed out and then lifted her down.
    Fancy hesitated, wondering how to end the evening. “Thank you for a surprisingly enjoyable evening.”
    “I will walk you to your door.” Stepan grasped her hand and led her up the three steps. “Hand me your key, please.”
    “That is unnecessary.”
    Stepan cocked a dark brow at her and held his hand out. “Give me the key.”
    Fancy passed him the key. Once the door had opened, Stepan stepped aside to allow her entrance and then followed her into the foyer.
    As he’d done the previous evening, Puddles raced into the foyer and leaped at the prince, pinning him against wall. Stepan laughed as the mastiff licked his face.
    “Sit,” Fancy ordered.
    The black-masked, brindled mastiff obeyed, its tail swishing in a warm welcome.
    “Good boy, Puddles.” Stepan patted the dog’s massive head and turned to Fancy. He planted a kiss on her hand and dropped the key onto her palm. “Good night, mademoiselle. May your dreams be pleasant.”
    Without another word, Stepan slipped out the door and disappeared into his coach.
     
    He had not kissed her good night.
    Fancy sat on the stool in her dressing room the next evening and studied her image in the cracked mirror. Why hadn’t he tried to kiss her? What was wrong with her?
    She had expected the prince to kiss her—respectfully, of course—when he’d delivered her home the previous evening. Though kissing her hand was romantic in the extreme, she had assumed she would be experiencing her first kiss.
    For a notorious rake, the prince was taking his sweet time getting down to business. Unless—?
    Fancy cupped the palm of her hand in front of her nose and mouth. She inhaled, exhaled, and sniffed her breath. She couldn’t smell anything foul, but tried the experiment again just to be sure.
    “What are you doing?”
    Fancy whirled around. Genevieve Stover stood there.
    She gave the other girl a rueful smile. “Checking the scent of my breath.”
    “I want to thank you for introducing Alex and me,” the blonde said. “He is escorting me home tonight, too.”
    Fancy was pleased for her newest and oldest friends. And then she thought of her baby sister. Raven nurtured an enormous crush on Alex and would be unhappy.
    “I am happy you have