To Wed a Wicked Prince by Jane Feather Page B

hurried away. Mr. Bridge bowed more deeply. “Such a pleasure to do business with you, Prince Prokov.” He escorted his customer to the street and stood bowing until he’d disappeared into the throng.

Chapter Four
    L IVIA DESCENDED THE STAIRS THE following morning, her eyes on the sheet of vellum she was reading, and then her progress halted. She stared openmouthed at the hall below her and wondered if she’d somehow been transported to the botanic gardens. Flowers of every hue spilled from baskets, were massed in great copper jugs, covering the parquet floor.
    “Good Lord, where did all these come from?”
    “I’m trying to find out.” Aurelia popped up from behind an enormous basket of deep crimson dahlias. “I can’t find a card anywhere here. Come and help.”
    Livia took the last few steps with a skip and a jump and plunged into the tropical garden. The mingled scents were almost overpowering. “There must be some mistake. Who brought them?”
    “Some carrier, according to Morecombe.” Aurelia shook her head in bemusement. “Of course it didn’t occur to him to ask the man anything about the delivery, he just let them pile everything here and went off about his business in usual Morecombe fashion. I found all this when I came down five minutes ago.”
    Livia gazed around her. She ran distracted hands through her curls. “What are we to do with them?”
    “I don’t know. Let’s find out who they’re from first. It might well be a mistake. You start on the right and I’ll take the left.” Aurelia began a methodical search of the containers.
    “This is ridiculous,” Livia said after a few futile minutes. “Morecombe.” She raised her voice and yelled in the general direction of the kitchen regions.
    “You’ll be lucky,” Aurelia observed with a grin. But to her surprise the elderly retainer shuffled into the hall a few minutes later.
    “You want summat, m’lady?”
    “Yes,” Livia said, straightening from a basket of roses. “Did the carrier say anything at all when he unloaded these?”
    The butler shook his head. “Nowt that I ’eard, mum. Said as ’ow they were fer Lady Livia Lacey, an’ dumped the lot ’ere an’ went about ’is business, like any other God-fearing fellow.” He turned at the sound of the door knocker and grumbled, “Anyone would think we was a coachin’ inn.”
    Livia exchanged a look with Aurelia as Morecombe plodded to the door and fiddled with the latch before finally opening the door a crack.
    “Good morning,” a familiar voice said. “Is your mistress within?”
    “Seems t’be,” Morecombe responded.
    “Then would you announce me?” The prince’s voice was patient and pleasant.
    Livia went to the door. “It’s all right, Morecombe.” She took the door from him and opened it wide.
    Prince Prokov, hat in hand, bowed, the sun catching golden glints in his fair head. His eyes seemed particularly blue this morning, Livia thought somewhat distractedly, and his teeth gleamed very white as he smiled.
    “My dear lady, what a great pleasure it is to see you.” She did look enchanting, he thought. She wore an informal morning gown of apple-green cambric and her curly hair was rather unruly, as if she’d been trawling her fingers through it, giving her the appearance of dishabille. Her complexion had a delicate pink flush to it as if she’d been exerting herself more than usual.
    Livia wasn’t sure whether he was teasing her or not. It was a ridiculously flowery greeting, but there was something in his smiling gaze that flustered her a little. She said as firmly as she could, “Good morning, Prince Prokov. You’re paying calls rather early…unfortunately this is not the most convenient moment for us.”
    “Oh, I don’t mind, please continue with what you were doing,” he said blithely. “I won’t be in the way, I promise.” He took a step up to the door and looked over her shoulder. “Oh, good, the flowers have arrived. Do they please