“Oh?”

“You know Daddy, all business. He just can’t see one of his darling girls wearing greasepaint and costumes. Now if she wanted to be an agent … Anyway, I thought it might do them both good to be a few thousand miles apart for a week or so. So if you can find an extra couple of beds in that palace of yours …”

“We’ve always got the folding cots.”

“I knew I could count on you. We’ll fly in the day before the ball, then. I can give you a hand—and meet your betrothed. By the way, Brie, how does it feel to be in love?”

“It—” She looked down at the ring on her hand, remembered what could sweep through her at a touch, at a look. “It’s not very comfortable, actually.”

Chris laughed again. “Did you think it was going to be? Take care of yourself, darling. I’ll see you soon.”

“Goodbye, Chris.”

After she’d hung up, Brie sat still for a moment. She’d pulled it off. Christina Hamilton hadn’t suspected anything. Brie had been bright, cheerful—deceitful. On a surge of temper, Brie tossed her notes so that they scattered, floated, then fell. She continued to frown at them after she’d heard the discreet knock at her door.

No, she wouldn’t pick them up, Brie decided. She’d leave them just where they were, just where they belonged. “Yes, come in.”

“Excuse me, Your Highness.” Janet entered the sitting room with her usual lack of fuss. “I thought you’d like to know that the ballroom is in order. The drapes are being rehung.” Though she glanced down to the papers lying on the floor, she made no comment. “Did your call come through?”

“Yes. Yes, I spoke with Miss Hamilton. And you’re welcome to relay to my father that she suspects nothing.”

Janet kept her hands folded neatly in front of her. “I beg your pardon, Your Highness?”

“Are you actually going to try to tell me you don’t report to him?” Brie demanded. She rose, guilt and despair pushing at her. “I’m well aware of how closely you watch me, Janet.”

“Your welfare is our only concern, Your Highness.” Janet’s voice remained colorless; her hands remained folded. “If I’ve offended you—”

“The subterfuge offends me,” Brie tossed back. “All of it.”

“I know Your Highness must feel—”

“You don’t know how I feel,” Brie interrupted as she whirled around the room. “How can you? Do you remember your father, your brother, your closest friend?”

“Your Highness …” After a moment, Janet took a step closer. That kind of temper, that kind of emotion had to be handled gently. “Perhaps none of us really understands, but that doesn’t mean we don’t care. If there were anything I could do to help….”

“No.” Calmer, Brie turned back. “No, nothing. I’m sorry, Janet. I’ve no business shouting at you.”

The smile was slight and did little to change her expression. “But you had to shout at someone. I’d hoped—that is, I’d thought that perhaps after you’d talked to an old friend you might begin to remember something.”