“I’ve always been fond of animals.” She unlinked her hands to stroke. He noticed for the first time that her hands were delicate, long and slender like her body. “What are their names?”

“Boris and Natasha.”

“Suitable names for Russian wolfhounds.”

“They were given to me as puppies. I named them after characters in an American cartoon show. Spies.”

Her hands hesitated only a heartbeat. “Spies, Your Highness?”

“Inept Russian spies who were forever after a moose and squirrel.”

He thought he saw it again, the flash of humor that lent something special to her face. “I see. I’ve never been to America.”

“No?” He moved closer, but saw nothing but a young woman with good bones and a quiet manner. “It’s a fascinating country. Cordina’s become closely linked with it since two members of the Royal Family have married Americans.”

“A fact that disappointed a number of hopeful Europeans, I’m sure.” Hannah relaxed enough for a cautious smile. “I met Princess Gabriella several years ago. She’s a beautiful woman.”

“Yes, she is. You know, I’ve been to England several times. It’s strange we never met.”

Hannah allowed the smile to linger. “But we did, Your Highness.”

“Boris, sit,” Bennett commanded as the dog lifted a paw toward Hannah’s dress. “Are you sure?”

“Quite sure, sir. Then you’d hardly be expected to remember. It was several years ago at a charity ball hosted by the Prince of Wales. The Queen Mother introduced you to me and my cousin Lady Sara. I believe you and Sara became . . . friendly.”

“Sara?” His mind backtracked and zeroed in. His memory, always good, was faultless when it came to women. “Yes, of course.” Though he remembered Hannah only as a vague shadow beside her glamorous and bold cousin. “How is Sara?”

“Very well, sir.” If there was sarcasm, it was well coated with manners. “Happily married for the second time. Shall I send her your regards?”

“If you like.” He dipped his hands into his pockets again as he continued to study her. “You were wearing blue, a pale blue that was nearly white.”

Hannah lifted her brow. She didn’t have to be told that he’d barely noticed her. The fact that he hadn’t, yet still remembered the color of her gown gave her a moment’s pause. A memory like that could be useful—or dangerous.

“You flatter me, Your Highness.”

“I make it a policy not to forget a woman.”

“Yes, I can believe that.”

“My reputation precedes me.” The frown was there, then gone, to be replaced by a careless smile. “Does it concern you to be alone in the garden, in the moonlight with—”

“The Royal Rake?” Hannah finished.

“You do read,” Bennett murmured.

“Incessantly. And no, Your Highness, I’m quite comfortable, thank you.”

He opened his mouth, then laughed and shut it again. “Lady Hannah, I’ve rarely been put so neatly in my place.”