To Romance a Charming Rogue

Lazzara lifted his chin with royal hauteur, as if wondering how anyone dared to ask him such a thing.

Damon held back a tight smile. It was ironic that he was questioning Eleanor's latest suitor just as Marcus had questioned him two years ago when he'd sought her hand in marriage.

“You presume a great deal, sir,” the prince finally said.

“Her elder brother, Lord Danvers, is a friend of mine,” Damon replied, shading the truth a little. “In his absence, I feel obliged to keep an eye out for her.”

Which was only partly accurate. His callous treatment of Marcus's sister had cost Damon their longtime friendship. Indeed, Marcus had threatened to carve out his liver if he didn't leave London immediately so the sensation could die down. It was fortunate that the warning had coincided with Damon's need to pursue his own goals in the warm, dry climate of the Mediterranean.

A hint of anger flashed in Lazzara's eyes, while his reply was dismissive of Damon's concern. “My court ship of Donna Eleanora is my own affair, my lord. I need not explain my intentions to you or anyone else.”

Damon felt his jaw clench at that unsatisfactory answer, but he settled for a warning of his own. “It would be a mistake,” he said in a silken tone, “to think you could escape retribution from Lady Elea nor's family and friends were you to hurt her in any way, even unintentionally.”

Lazzara hesitated, evidently reconsidering sparring with Damon. His scowl disappearing, he instead offered a smile meant to charm. “I promise you, my lord, she is quite safe with me.”

Damon put no trust in such a pledge, though. Nor would he be deterred by it.

He intended to observe Lazzara's courtship of Eleanor closely and would act to end any serious romance between them. It would be a challenge, devising ways to interfere without earning her scorn. But he meant to keep Eleanor from making an irrevocable mistake, even if it meant going against her express desires.

The Pantheon Bazaar, situated between Oxford and Marlborough Streets, offered a wide assortment of wares by mercers, milliners, hatters, tobacconists, and perfumeries, among many others.

This was Damon's first visit to the Bazaar, since it had opened barely a year before he'd left London. The large, airy building, he noted when their small party entered, was furnished with numerous stalls on the ground floors and with galleries above.

Much of the time Damon hung back a little, observing Eleanor and her chosen suitor as they wandered through the crowds and perused the stalls, examining clothing and accessories, jewelry, furs, gloves, fans, and expensive novelties such as ornamental clocks. Eleanor's abigail, Jenny, followed close behind her, gaping at the sights, while the prince's two footmen hastened ahead, clearing a path for his royal highness.

After more than an hour, Eleanor settled on a gilt ormolu clock as a birthday gift for her aunt, asking for it to be wrapped and delivered to their home at Portman Place. Prince Lazzara purchased several items also and turned them over to his footmen to carry out to his barouche, which awaited them on the street.

As she effortlessly charmed the prince with her sparkling laugh and quick repartee, Damon tried to stifle the jealous pangs he felt. Yet he couldn't wholly dismiss the prodding voice in his head that reminded him he could have been the one escorting Eleanor to the fashionable shopping districts, bantering with her and enjoying an easy camaraderie rather than the prickly tension that existed between them now.

When they reached the end of the building, they viewed the waxwork exhibition and then strolled through the conservatory, which boasted a display of rare plants and evergreen shrubs as well as a menagerie of chattering animals, including parrots and monkeys.

For the most part, Damon was aware, Eleanor seemed to be ignoring him, except once when they passed a fountain and basin filled with goldfish.

A wry smile curved his mouth at the image that entered his mind-of her pushing her royal suitor into the water if he made so bold as to try to kiss her. And when Damon caught Elle's eye, he knew she was envisioning the same image.

For a fleeting moment as their gazes locked with shared humor, they were in complete accord. But then Eleanor quickly quelled her amusement and turned a shoulder to him as she took her Italian escort's proffered arm.

Shortly they returned to a particular watchmaker's stall where previously the prince had spied an ornate gold watch fob that appealed to him. While his highness discussed a possible purchase with the merchant, Damon waited to one side with Eleanor.

Somewhat to his surprise, she chose the opportunity to take him to task for his intrusion on her romance, although she did it in an undertone that couldn't be heard over the cheerful din of the bazaar.

“You have some nerve, Lord Wrexham, inviting yourself along on our outing.”

Damon raised an eyebrow at Eleanor, pretending surprise. “You did not want me to accompany you?”

“Of course not. Not when you are obviously set on making mischief.”

“Whatever gave you that impression?” he queried innocently.

Eleanor grimaced in exasperation. “I can tell from the devilish gleam in your eyes.”

He tried to keep his expression bland, even though he was indeed provoking her on purpose, attempting to open her eyes to the prince's shortcomings. “You wound me, love. Do you honestly think I would try to come between you and your Romeo?”

“Will you please cease calling him that?” Eleanor exclaimed in a whisper.

“Very well, if you insist-although in Italy he earned that reputation in his own right. I confess, I cannot quite understand what you see in him.”

She made a visible effort at composure. “To begin with, Prince Lazzara is very much the opposite of you in several respects.”

“I would say so,” Damon said dryly. “He likes fancy clothing and gewgaws and whatnot, and spends money as if it were water.”

Eleanor shot Damon a quelling glance but refrained from comment, perhaps because she saw some truth in his charge.

“It surprises me,” he continued, “that you've allowed yourself to be so blindly attracted to a pretty face. But I suppose I cannot fault you. You always were the idealist.”

“You mean that I am naive.”

“Perhaps you are. Isn't it naive to think you can win a gentleman's affection because some tome tells you so?”

Her chin rose. “I won't dignify that remark with a reply.”

Damon chuckled at her expression of disdain.

“Look at it this way, Elle. I am actually aiding your cause.”

Her blue eyes widened in mock amazement, while her tone turned sweetly skeptical. “Pray tell, just how are you aiding my cause?”

“If Lazzara thinks I am his competition, he will make a greater effort to cut me out. Indeed, he already is trying.”

That theory gave Eleanor pause. “So you are bedeviling me for my sake?”

“You could put it that way. I told you, I don't want him hurting you. Therefore, I am appointing myself your personal protector.”

As if praying for patience, she raised her gaze to the high ceiling overhead, then fixed Damon with an exasperated glance. “Well, I wish you would stop.”

“I don't intend to reveal your secrets to your prince, if that worries you.”

“What secrets?” Eleanor demanded warily. “I have no secrets.”

“What of your plan to capture Lazzara for your husband by using that advice manual?”

“Don't you dare tell him about that!” she ground out.

“And what of the fact that you were kissing me two minutes before he walked into your parlor?”

Her cheeks flushed becomingly. “That was a grave mistake, one that will not be repeated. And I trust you will not tattle to him.”

“In all honor, my lips are sealed.”

Eleanor regarded Damon with suspicion. “I would be much more reassured if you would return to the Continent and spend another two years there.”

“But I am enjoying myself here.”