Chapter Thirteen
Five Things I Quite Like About Sir Harry Valentine By Olivia Bevelstoke
Smile
Wit
Eyes
Will speak to me through a window
Vladimir!” the prince suddenly barked out, rendering Olivia’s accounting one item short.
Vladimir immediately crossed the room to Prince Alexei, who issued what certainly sounded like an order in Russian. Vladimir grunted his assent and then added his own incomprehensible stream of words.
Olivia looked over at Harry. He was frowning. She supposed she probably was, too.
Vladimir made another gruff sound and returned to his corner, and Harry, who had been watching the entire exchange, looked at the prince and said, “He’s very convenient.”
Prince Alexei gave him a bored stare. “I do not understand your meaning.”
“He comes, he goes, he does whatever you say…”
“That is his purpose.”
“Well, of course.” Harry let his head tilt very slightly to the side. A shoulderless shrug is what it was, and just is careless in appearance. “I did not say otherwise.”
“It is necessary for those of royal status to travel with attendants.”
“I fully agree,” Harry replied, but his agreeable tone only seemed to needle the prince further.
“Here is your tea,” Olivia cut in, holding a cup out for Harry. He took it, thanking her quietly before taking a sip.
“I take mine the same way as Sir Harry,” she said, to no one in particular. “I used to take sugar, but I’ve found I’ve lost the taste for it.”
Harry looked at her with a curious expression. Olivia was not surprised; she could not recall the last time she’d made such dull conversation. But surely he realized that she had no choice.
She took a deep breath, trying to navigate the undercurrents of the conversation. The two men detested each other, that much was clear, but she’d been in rooms with people who hated each other before. It wasn’t usually quite this palpable.
And while she’d like to think that it was all for jealousy over her, she could not help but feel there was something else afoot.
“I have not been outside yet today,” she said, since the weather was always a dependable conversational distraction. “Is it warm?”
“I think it will rain,” the prince said.
“Oh well, that is England for you, isn’t it? If it isn’t raining, it’s pouring. And if it isn’t pouring…”
But the prince had already removed his attention to his rival. “Where is your home, Sir Harry?”
“Lately, next door,” Harry said cheerfully.
“I thought that English aristocrats have grand homes in the country.”
“They do,” Harry replied affably. “Of course, I am not an aristocrat.”
“How is the tea?” Olivia asked, a touch desperately.
Both men grunted an answer. Neither was more than one syllable. And neither syllable was particularly intelligible.
“But you are called Sir,” Prince Alexei said.
“True,” Harry replied, not looking at all concerned by his lack of status. “But it does not make me an aristocrat.”
Prince Alexei’s lips curved ever so slightly.
“Baronets are not considered part of the aristocracy,” Olivia explained, giving Harry an apologetic look. It really was rude of the prince to hammer on about Harry’s lower rank, but one did have to make allowances for cultural differences.
“What is this ‘baronet’？” the prince asked.
“Endlessly in between,” Harry replied with a sigh. “A bit like purgatory, really.”
Alexei turned to Olivia. “I do not understand him.”
“He means, or at least I think he means”—she shot a peeved look at Harry because she had no idea what he thought he was doing, purposefully antagonizing the prince—“that baronets are not a part of the aristocracy, and yet they are not untitled. That is why he is called Sir.”
Prince Alexei still looked confused, so Olivia explained, “In order of rank, beneath royalty, of course, there are dukes and duchesses, marquesses and marchionesses, earls and countesses, viscounts and viscountesses, and finally, barons and baronesses.” She paused. “Then baronets and their wives, but they are considered part of the gentry.”
“So very low,” Harry murmured, having fun with this now. “Miles and miles below someone like you.”
The prince glanced at him for barely a second, but it was long enough for Olivia to see the distaste in his eyes. “In Russia, the aristocracy provides a structure for society. Without our great families, we would fall apart.”
“Many feel the same way here,” Olivia said courteously.
“There would be—how do you say it…”
“Revolution?” Harry supplied.
“Chaos?” Olivia guessed.
“Chaos,” Alexei selected. “Yes, that is it. Revolution I do not fear.”
“We would all be wise to learn from the experiences of the French,” Harry said.
Prince Alexei turned on him with fire in his eyes. “The French were stupid. They allowed the bourgeoisie too many freedoms. We do not make this mistake in Russia.”
“We do not fear revolution in England, either,” Harry said softly, “although I expect it is for different reasons.”
Olivia’s breath caught. He’d spoken with such quiet conviction, in such contrast to his earlier flippancies. His serious tone could not help but capture the moment. Even Prince Alexei paused and turned to him with an expression that was…well, not respect, exactly, for he clearly did not appreciate the comment. But perhaps there was some sort of recognition, an acknowledgment of Harry as a worthy opponent.
“Our conversation grows so serious,” she declared. “It is far too early in the day for such talk.” And when that failed to garner an immediate response, she added, “I can’t bear political discussions when the sun is shining.”
Actually, what she couldn’t bear was making herself out to be a complete ninny. She adored political discussions, at any time of day.
And the sun wasn’t shining, either.
“We are most rude,” Prince Alexei said, rising from his seat. He came before her and sank to one knee, leaving her speechless. What was he doing?
“Can you forgive us?” he murmured, taking her hand.
“I—I—”
He brought her knuckles to his lips. “Please.”
“Of course,” she finally got out. “It is—”
“Nothing,” Harry put in. “I believe that is the word you’re looking for?”
She would have glared at him if she could have seen him around Alexei, who was presently filling her entire breadth of vision. “You are of course forgiven, Your Highness,” she said. “I was being silly.”
“It is the right of all beautiful women to be silly when they wish.”
The prince moved at that point, and Olivia did catch a glimpse of Harry’s face. He looked as if he might gag.
“You must have a great many appointments here in London,” Harry said, once Alexei had resumed his seat.
“I am given several awards,” he said, looking confused and annoyed by the change of subject.