The prince appeared mollified by the smooth explanation and eager to expound on his illness. “It’s these horrid bouts of dyspepsia, they’ll be the death of me! The doctor thought a bit of sea air might be refreshing. But it was so frightfully cold that I was in constant alarm of contracting a lung fever, so here I am. Besides, there was an intriguing rumor that you’ve a houseguest from the wilds of America. Might I presume her to be this lovely young lady?”

“Indeed,” Hadrian said. “Your Royal Highness, if I may present Miss Fanshawe, lately of Philadelphia, and granddaughter to Sir Basil Fanshawe.”

Natalie found herself the subject of that royal stare, his eyes gray like Hadrian’s but far more fishlike. In the few short minutes since he’d come into her orbit, she had measured the Prince Regent to be a vain man coddled and flattered by his subjects, a blue blood who had been raised to believe himself superior to all others. But strangely, she found herself pitying him, for without the fine garb and the high position, he would be just a middle-aged man preoccupied with his own mortality.

The duchess watched them with an anxious expression. His Highness sets great store on obeisance, she’d said. Though Hadrian looked unperturbed, ready to shield her from any trouble, Natalie felt loath to ruin the ball, especially for his mother who had put her heart and soul into planning it. One exception could not be too much to ask after all they had done for her and Leo.

She sank into the first curtsy of her life and hoped it was adequately graceful. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Your Highness. May I add that I’ve been much impressed by the welcoming nature of the British people, yourself in particular.”

The prince’s expression warmed to a look of flirtatious charm that surely hearkened back to his glory days. “I daresay my father should have fought harder to quash the rebellion in the colonies and keep such beauty as yours within our empire. Clayton, you must bring Miss Fanshawe to Carleton House very soon.”

“We’ll look forward to it, sir,” Hadrian said, with a formalness that made Natalie think he didn’t really mean it.

Prinny and his companions took their leave and strolled through the ballroom so that he might accept more adulations from the hordes. There was a noticeable sense of relief in the air, emanating largely from the duchess.

She hastened to Natalie. “My dear, how brilliantly you charmed him!”

“Naturally,” Sir Basil said. “She is a Fanshawe, after all.”

Hadrian chuckled. “But now we’re doomed to sit through a twenty-course dinner in tropical heat, for Prinny is known for his dislike of the cold.”

“He won’t really invite me, will he?” Natalie asked dubiously. “Surely he was just being polite.”

“I wouldn’t be so certain. The prince has an eye for pretty ladies, so I had best stake my claim on you before it’s too late.”