She liked the voice instantly. It was warm, dry and somewhat lazy. This time the twinge Brie felt was one of regret for not being able to recognize her emotions. “Chris …” She hesitated, then went with instinct. “Don’t you know royalty keeps busy hours?”

The laugh rewarded her, but Brie didn’t relax. “You know that whenever your crown gets too heavy you can take a break in Houston. God knows I can always use an extra pair of hands at the gallery. How are you, Brie, really?”

“I …” Oddly she found herself wanting to pour out everything, anything. There was something so comforting in the faceless voice. Duty, she remembered. Obligation. “I’m fine.”

“It’s Chris, remember? Oh, God, Brie, when I read about the kidnapping, I nearly—” She broke off, and Brie barely heard the quiet oath. “I spoke with your father, you know. I wanted to come. He didn’t think it would be the best thing for you.”

“Probably not. I’ve needed time, but I’m glad you wanted to.”

“I’m not going to ask you questions about it, love. I’m sure the best thing to do is forget it entirely.”

Brie gave a quick, uncontrollable laugh. “That seems to be what I’m doing.”

Chris waited a moment, not quite satisfied with Brie’s reaction. Ultimately she let it pass. “I will ask you what the hell’s going on over there in Camelot.”

“Going on?”

“This secret, whirlwind romance that’s now at the engagement point. Brie, I know you’ve always been discreet, but I can’t believe you didn’t say a word to me, not a word about Reeve MacGee.”

“Well, I suppose I really didn’t know what to say.” That had the ring of truth, Brie thought bitterly. “Everything’s happened so fast. The engagement wasn’t set or even discussed until Reeve came out here last month.”

“How does your father feel?”

Brie gave a wry smile, grateful she didn’t have to guard her expression. “You could say he nearly arranged it himself.”

“I can’t say I disapprove. An American ex-cop—you always said you’d never marry anyone too suitable.”

Brie smiled a little. “Apparently I meant it.”

“Actually, I was beginning to think you’d never take the plunge. You’ve always been too clever about men for your own good. Remember that model in Professor Debare’s class?”

“The male model?” Brie hazarded, and was rewarded by another long laugh.

“Of course. You took one look at that magnificent study in masculine perfection and dubbed him a shallow, vain opportunist. The rest of us were drooling over his pectoral muscles—then he took Sylvia for fifty thousand francs.”

“Poor Sylvia,” Brie murmured, lost.

“Ah, well, she could afford it. Anyway, Brie, I know you’re busy. I’ve called to invite myself, and Eve, for a few days.”

“You know you’re always welcome,” Brie said automatically while her mind raced. “You’re coming for the ball. Can you stay over then?”

“That’s the plan. I hope you don’t mind me dragging Eve along, but the girl’s driving Daddy mad. Brie, the child wants to be an actress.”