When We Meet Again by Victoria Alexander Page B

and I might add, quite legally, leased by my party." She stared in annoyance but held her ground. "Regardless, my lord, your lease was agreed to under the mistaken belief as to the ownership of this house. As my aunt was already dead at that point, it seems to me Mr. Graham did not have the authority to reach such an agreement."
    "Nonetheless," the count said smoothly, "there are universal principles in law, even in England I believe, based on the concept of past practices." He raised a shoulder in a dismissive shrug. "You could certainly challenge our claim in the courts of your country; however, I would wager that by the time the question was settled it will be past the date of the expiration of the lease and would be a moot point."
    "The only point I see is most pertinent." She narrowed her eyes. The man was altogether too clever and most annoying. "This is to be my home, and I fully intend to take up residence here at once. Not six months from now."
    "Miss Effington, I am certain we can come to some accommodation that will best suit us all," the second gentleman interjected in a smooth and most diplomatic manner.
    Pamela drew a calming breath, prayed for strength, and prepared to do battle with yet another stranger who was probably as clever as his friend. But this was her new home, her new life, and she did not intend to let it slip through her fingers—even for no more than six months—because of some absurd agreement she'd had no say in.
    "My dear sir." Pamela turned to address the count's companion and froze. Surely, it couldn't be...Her breath caught and her chest tightened. It simply wasn't possible—
    Behind her, Aunt Millicent gasped. "Your Highness!"
    Your Highness? Alexei?
    Prince Alexei Pruzinsky, heir to the throne of the Kingdom of Greater Avalonia, smiled apologetically at her aunt. "Forgive me, my lady, but I fear you have me at a disadvantage. Have we met?" Have we met? Sheer panic surged through Pamela. He had Aunt Millicent at a disadvantage? Hah!
    "I couldn't possibly expect you to remember, Your Highness, you meet a great many people and have a great many responsibilities. I am Lady Smythe-Windom." Aunt Millicent sailed past Pamela, once again her old self, curtseyed, and extended her hand to the prince. "Besides, it was years ago, in Venice if memory serves."
    Venice. Pamela groaned to herself. Of all the princes Aunt Millicent had ever met and all the places she had ever met them in, why had she met this particular prince in Venice? Oh certainly, Pamela had met him in Venice, but neither her aunt nor her cousin knew the gentleman Pamela had dallied with in that city was the very same gentleman who was now occupying her house in this city.
    "Ah yes, Venice, that explains my lapse of memory." The prince took Aunt Millicent's hand and raised it to his lips.
    Did he remember Pamela? Probably not. In truth, she didn't wish him to remember. Hadn't she taken great pains at the time to conceal her identity and ensure he would not recognize her if ever they met again? Indeed, he had never even seen her face other than by the faint light of the stars. And why would he remember her? She was simply a minor indiscretion in a lifetime of indiscretions for him.
    "Oh?" Aunt Millicent raised a curious brow.
    Of course, Pamela remembered Venice and a night of sheer magic in the bed of a prince as if it were yesterday.
    A night illuminated by the very essence of starlight and accompanied by the faintest hint of violins in the far distance and water gently caressing the docks.
    "Only Venice could erase the memory of meeting a woman as lovely as you." His lips brushed across the back of Aunt Millicent's hand, his gaze never left her aunt's. His was the polished manner of a man well used to flirtation. To seduction.
    And Pamela remembered him as well. Everything about him. The dark intensity of his eyes, the tender skill of his touch, the very timbre of his voice when he had murmured endearments in the throes of