“As you wish. We’ll go up to my office. Bennett, aren’t you speaking at the Equestrian Society today?”

“Not for a couple of hours.” He turned and gave Eve a friendly kiss on the nose, sending her a wink only she could see and appreciate. “I’ll see you at dinner. Wear something dazzling, will you?”

“Naturally.” But her smiled faded as she turned back to Alexander. “Your Highness?”

Inclining his head, he gestured her from the room.

They climbed the staircase in silence. He was angry. Eve was perceptive enough to understand that without understanding the reason for it. Though two years had passed since they’d been face-to-face, he was as stiffly disapproving of her as he’d always been. Because she was an American? she wondered. No, Reeve MacGee was an American and he had married Alexander’s sister. Because she was in the theater?

Eve’s lips curled a bit at the thought. It would be just like him. Cordina boasted one of the best theater complexes in the world in the Fine Arts Center, but Alexander could easily be disdainful of people in the theater. Tossing her head back, she entered his office just ahead of him.

“Coffee?”

“No, thank you.”

“Please, sit.”

She did, but kept her back ramrod straight. His office reflected him, with its elegantly conservative style. There were no frills, no flounces. The only scents were coffee and leather. The furniture was old and glossy, the rug thick and faded with age. Tall glass doors led to a balcony, but they were closed now, as if he had no desire for the sound of the sea or the fragrance of the garden.

The signs of wealth didn’t intimidate her. She’d come from wealth and had since earned her own. It was the formality that had her sitting rigidly and waiting for the attack.

“Your sister is well?” Alexander took out a cigarette, then lifted a brow.

Eve nodded and waited as he struck a match. “She’s very well. She plans to spend some time with Gabriella’s family when they return to America. Bennett told me one of the children is ill.”

“Dorian. A head cold.” For the first time his features softened. Of all his sister’s children, it was the youngest who held the strongest grip on his heart. “He isn’t easily kept in bed.”

“I’d like to see the children before I leave. I haven’t seen any of them since Dorian was christened.”

“Two years ago.” He remembered, perhaps too well. “I’m sure we can arrange for you to visit the farm.” When her lips curved, he drew back. He was no longer indulgent uncle or casual friend, but prince. “My father’s away. He sends you his best if he hasn’t returned before you leave.”

“I read he was in Paris.”