Cloudy with a Chance of Marriage

Miss Jones blinked. “It is, I assure you. And I don’t believe in bad luck.”

“She believes in creating her own destiny,” Prinny called over his shoulder to his friends and advisors. “Isn’t she endearing?”

There was a chorus of affirmatives.

He looked back at her with tender regard. “I would expect no less of a Celtic princess.”

“You’ll recall me, Your Highness, from a ball in Brighton,” interjected Lady Tabitha. She curtsied in a most elegant manner.

The prince swept his gaze over her. “Yes, Lady Tabitha. I recollect our meeting.”

She gave him a sensual smile, the same one she’d bestowed on Stephen at Hodgepodge.

But the prince didn’t seem to notice. His eyes were back on Miss Jones. “Oh, let’s cease the pretense now, as precious as it was. State your real name, my dear, and tell us why you hide beneath this disguise as a woman of lackluster origins.”

Miss Jones’s cheeks were pale. She looked genuinely nervous. “I’m still not sure what you mean, Your Highness.”

“She’s not disguised, Your Highness,” said Lady Tabitha with a little laugh. “She truly is a lackluster little nobody.”

The prince gazed sternly at Lady Tabitha. “You were not asked to speak. You’ve also no idea what you’re talking about.”

He made a quarter turn so that she was no longer in his line of vision. It was the ultimate insult—the cut direct, and given by the Prince Regent himself!

There were several gasps.

Stephen watched with morbid fascination and not a little satisfaction as Lady Tabitha turned bright crimson, turned slowly, and strode away.

Prinny lowered his eyebrows. “I don’t care how beautiful the woman is, how dare she insult the daughter of a long, proud line of Celtic kings?”

His cronies all agreed in equally loud voices.

At the break in attention focused strictly on her, Miss Jones managed to dart a questioning look at Stephen.

Play along, he willed his expression to say. This is that diversion you begged me to create.

She widened her eyes only slightly. Stephen watched as she lifted her chin and her gaze grew more direct. Good for her. She was gathering courage. Ignoring the confusing circumstances.

She would have made a fine sailor.

Who was he fooling?

She would have made a fine admiral!

When the prince finished chortling with his colleagues, Miss Jones cleared her throat. “Dreare Street, Your Highness, is actually a very pleasant street on which to live. In fact”—she bestowed a genuine smile upon him —“we’re having a street fair soon.”

Prinny drew in his many chins. “Really? No one has those anymore.”

Miss Jones tossed her head. “We do. I’d be honored if you’d make an appearance at ours, Your Highness, as our guest of honor. Would you, please?”

Stephen couldn’t stop his lip from curving up. Miss Jones’s voice was so throaty with hope and enthusiasm, who could resist her?

Prinny blinked.

Stephen felt his shoulders tense.

“Why, I’d be glad to, Miss Jones,” the Prince Regent replied with spirit—and only a little bit of slurring in his speech. “But only if you stand by my side in that delicious lady’s-maid costume.” He waggled his brows at her.

“If you say so, Your Highness,” she responded weakly.

“When shall it be?” Prinny gave a little hop of excitement. “A week from now, I’ll be gone for at least a fortnight to Brighton. So it’s either in the next seven days or not for a small while.”

“It’s this coming Wednesday,” she blurted out. “Isn’t that right, Captain Arrow?”

Their gazes locked. They’d planned to have the fair two Wednesdays from now. But it couldn’t be helped. They’d have to have it sooner.

“Next Wednesday it is, then,” said the prince.

“And please tell all your friends,” Jilly asked him.

“And enemies, too,” added Stephen. “We don’t discriminate.”

Prinny laughed a great big belly laugh. “You always were a card, Arrow. Very well. I’ll tell all of London’s Upper Ten Thousand to come. For one day, my foes and I will be friends—on Dreare Street, of all places.”

“Why not?” Stephen agreed.

Prinny kissed Miss Jones’s hand with a great deal of fervor then retreated to his group of hangers-on once more.

Stephen was impatient to catch Miss Jones’s gaze. When he finally did, he saw she was bursting with excitement. He felt it, too.

The deed was done. Prinny was coming to the street fair. In all likelihood, so would many of London’s wealthiest shoppers. Perhaps they’d buy books. And oversized handkerchiefs. Meat pasties and paintings and mobcaps and beautiful gowns. And maybe … just maybe … one of them would buy his house.

God, he had to get those beams fixed by Wednesday!

He’d do it if he had to stay awake from now until then.

But he had something much more imperative to think about at the moment—Miss Jones, and getting her out into the garden before they left the ball tonight. It was time to hold a celebration of sorts. And not only about the prince’s announcement. It was time to celebrate the fact that she’d managed to turn an intended slight from Lady Tabitha on its ear.

It was also time to celebrate her voluptuous body, her smile, her boldness, her intelligent gaze, her kindness.

It was time to celebrate her …

If she’d only let him.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Captain Arrow had a glint in his eye, a bold, take-no-prisoners look, as he wended his way through the small crowd gathered around Jilly.

“You’re coming with me,” he said in her ear.

Without hesitation—for she felt terribly uncomfortable with all the sudden interest in her—she put her hand through the crook of his arm.

“I’m sorry, I must go,” she told the people staring at her and murmuring things about her royal Celtic origins.

It was such a relief! She still wasn’t exactly sure how the diversion had happened, but Captain Arrow had made clear with that look earlier that he’d had everything to do with it.

He looked down at her now, his expression smug. “We’ve something to attend to in the garden, and this time I won’t take no for an answer.”

He was acting like a naval officer again, expecting instant obedience.

“I’m not one of your sailors,” she retorted.

“Thank God,” he said softly.

The inscrutable look he gave her then made her heart race. “Don’t think—”

“That’s right,” he said, walking without hesitation through the flung-open doors to the garden. “Don’t think.”

She was confused. And tired.