It was a couple of moments before she figured out how her voice worked. He was waiting for her to respond. He’d called her Phillippa.
He’d set this up. This formal situation, this amazing dress…
For a girl in a pink twin-set.
‘You rat,’ she managed at last. ‘You bottom-feeding pond scum.’
He blinked. ‘Pardon?’
‘I’m wearing my church clothes,’ she wailed. ‘My Sunday best for Tanbarook. What do you think you’re doing?’
‘Phillippa, here’s Mr Levout.’
They weren’t alone. For the first time she realised there was another man present-Carver Levout. Like Max, Levout was also in ceremonial regalia. He looked a lot less impressive than Max, but a million times more impressive than Pippa.
One of the buttons had fallen off her cardigan during transit. Pippa had decided since she couldn’t find it she’d leave her cardigan open and hope no one would notice. Levout noticed. He stared pointedly at the gap where the button should be, and it was all Pippa could do not to run.
‘She’s a real provincial,’ the man said in his own language to Max, crossing the room to take her hand in his. ‘What a drab mouse. Shouldn’t we be feeding her in the servants’ quarters? She’d be much more comfortable.’ He smiled and raised her hand to his lips. ‘Charming,’ he said in English and then reverted to his own language to add, ‘How the hell are we going to cope with her in the public eye? She’ll have to be seen as the nanny.’
There was a deathly hush. Levout looked suddenly uncomfortable. Maybe he guessed…Forget guessing. It was time he knew. ‘Then we’re four provincials together,’ she said, sweetly in his language. ‘Marc and Sophie and Claire and me. Plus our dog. Provincials all.’
Levout stared. Then he flushed. It was no wonder he’d assumed she wouldn’t speak this language. How many people did? ‘Mademoiselle, I’m devastated,’ he started.
‘You’re also excessively rude. Both of you.’
Max said nothing. He stood in front of the mantel, quietly watchful.
She ignored him. Or she pretended to ignore him. She’d never seen a man in a dress sword…
Concentrate on something else, she told herself fiercely. Like the table. The mahogany table was twelve feet long and it was so highly polished she could see her face in the wood. There was a place laid at the head. There were two places set on either side, halfway down. The cutlery was ornate silverware, each piece a work of art in its own right. There were, she counted, six crystal glasses by each plate. An epergne was set in the middle of the table, silver and gold, all crouching tigers and jungle foliage.
‘Goodness,’ Pippa said faintly. ‘This is amazing. I’m amazed.’ But then she shrugged. She still carefully didn’t look at Max but addressed herself instead to his companion. ‘I’m not welcome here,’ she said. ‘You’ve made that clear. You guys can play fancy dress by yourselves. I’m going to the kitchen to see if I can find myself a vegemite sandwich.’
‘Pippa…’ Max said.
‘Yeah, I’m Pippa,’ she said. ‘If you wanted Phillippa you should have given me warning, but what you see is what you get. See you later.’ She turned and swept out of the room with as much dignity as a girl in a twin-set with a missing button could muster.
Max caught her before she’d taken half a dozen steps across the hall. He seized her by her shoulders and turned her to face him.
She was furious. It didn’t take a clairvoyant to see that. Her eyes were bright and wide, and there was a spot of burning crimson on each cheek.
She turned but she didn’t react. She had her arms tightly folded across her breasts.
‘Let me go,’ she muttered and she took a step backwards, tugging away.
He released her. ‘Pip, I’m sorry.’
‘What the hell were you thinking?’
‘I don’t-’
‘There’s no need to try and show me up,’ she snapped. ‘I’ve never denied I’m a provincial.’ She took a deep breath and tilted her chin. ‘I’m even proud of it.’
‘You’re not a provincial.’
‘Oh, sure. Max, I’m a child of a single mother. I’ve scraped a living as best I could. For the last four years I’ve worked as a navvy on a farm.’ She held out her hands, showing work-worn fingers with nails that were cracked and stained. ‘I’m illegitimate poor trash and I bet he knows it. I bet you’ve told him.’
‘I haven’t. And there’s no need to be melodramatic.’
‘Says the prince with a dress sword,’ she said scornfully. ‘I’ve never seen such a melodramatic outfit in my life.’
‘It is, rather,’ he said ruefully and stared down at his costume. ‘Do you know these pants have fifteen buttons?’
‘Fifteen…’ Momentarily distracted, she stared at the line of buttons leading from groin to hip. ‘Wow.’
‘It took me three minutes to do them up,’ he said. ‘Honest to God.’
She shook her head, dragging her gaze away with difficulty. He was all too good at distracting her. The man was too distracting altogether. ‘So you’ve achieved what?’ she demanded, a trifle breathlessly. ‘By doing up fifteen buttons?’
‘Believe it or not, I’ve made an old man happy.’
‘Levout?’
‘There’s no way I’ll make him happy. He’s nervous as hell. What he’s just heard has made him even more nervous and what I set in motion in the next few days will give him a palsy stroke. But my valet-’
‘Your valet!’
‘Ridiculous or not, I have a valet. He’s eighty-four. He and the rest of the servants organised this outfit specially and they’d have been desperately hurt if I hadn’t worn it tonight. As would the team of people who worked their butts off to get it ready for me. It’s amazing.’
‘Amazing,’ she agreed and tried to turn away again.
He caught her and twisted her back to face him. ‘Pippa, you must see how desperate these people are for reassurance. All these people. The royal household and the outside community. This place is a microcosm of the country. We’re important.’
‘You’re important,’ she snapped. ‘Not me. I’m a provincial.’
‘Will you leave it?’
‘Not the least bit of warning?’ she demanded, still fixated on her missing button. ‘No, Pippa, you might want to think about what you’re wearing tonight ’ cos I’m coming in fancy dress?’
‘I thought if I told you what I was wearing you wouldn’t come at all. And I didn’t know what I was wearing last time I saw you. I’d have had to send a message to the nursery.’
‘Or come yourself. It wouldn’t be so impossible.’
‘I won’t come to the nursery.’
‘Why not?’
‘I don’t intend to spend any more time with you than I must.’
Um…maybe that wasn’t the wisest thing to say, he thought. He reran the words in his head. Nope, that hadn’t sounded good. It had been a really dumb thing to say.
Just because it was true…
The color had drained from Pippa’s face. ‘What do you mean?’ she said at last and he spread his hands.
Okay, maybe it had to be faced. ‘Hell, Pippa, you know what I mean. This thing between us…’
‘What thing?’
‘I shouldn’t have kissed you on the plane.’
‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘At least we agree on that.’
‘I don’t want to give you any ideas.’
Her jaw dropped. ‘Of…of all the conceit,’ she stammered. ‘And so unnecessary. Provincials don’t have any ideas. You of all people should know that. After all, you’ve been mixing with me for days. Of all the arrogant, mean-minded, conceited, over-dressed popinjays-’
