Page 120 of Nobody's Princess
Graham didn’t want anything but Kuni. As far as he was concerned, she was the best thing Balcovia had ever created. No gift on earth could surpass Kuni’s love.
Princess Mechtilda had surprised him by anticipating this perspective. Her gift for him was a trunk full of spectacularly gilded, blank albums, in which to chronicle his married adventures with Kuni—and any equally dashing and rebellious children, the princess added with a wink.
All the Wynchester family’s friends were also present, including the two dozen members of Philippa’s reading circle, who had spent the past few months educating themselves on the history of Balcovia and its dialect. Several of the bluestockings were currently charming the regimentals off all the Royal Guards present—and perhaps even one of the companions.
This time, it was Kuni who wrapped her arms about Graham’s neck and drew him to her for a passionate kiss.
“I’m glad you meddled your way into my life that first day,” she teased.
“I’m glad you daggered your way into my heart,” he replied, and gave her another kiss.
They were so immersed in their loving talk and accompanying kisses, that at first they did not register Princess Mechtilda addressing the entire Wynchester family.
“…personally invite you to Balcovia for a winter holiday,” she was saying. “My father has granted me full permission. You will be my honored guests and stay for as many weeks as you’d like in our humble palace.”
“It’s not humble,” Kuni murmured in Graham’s ear. “Even the water closets are dazzlingly lavish.”
He could barely hear her above the buzzing in his brain at his family being hosted by no less than the royal family.
“Can I take my canvases and paints?” Marjorie asked.
“You can if you like,” the princess responded. “Or we can provide you with supplies and a studio, and send you home with trunks containing your creations.”
Graham thought Marjorie was going to swoon on the spot.
“Can I fence with your soldiers?” Elizabeth asked, brandishing her new sword as though the princess might have forgotten its presence.
All the Royal Guards ran over at once, blades drawn.
Her Royal Highness laughed and waved them back. “You can do as you please. My home shall be your home for the duration of your visit.”
“Can I—” Jacob began.
Mr. Randall appeared in the open doorway, his impeccable appearance marred only by a few cake crumbs in his cravat. “Pardon the interruption. You have a visitor.”
Their friends and loved ones were already present…which could only mean one thing.
A new case.
“If you’ll excuse us, Your Highness,” Graham said to the princess, then strode over to the butler. “Who has arrived?”
“A Mrs. Lachlan. Out of desperation, she was forced to sell her great-grandmother’s pendant in order to keep her home, only to be paid…with these.” Mr. Randall handed him a small stack of guineas.
Graham flipped through them, counting in his head as he went. “Is it not enough coin?”
Marjorie appeared at his shoulder and snatched the guineas from his hand.
“They’renotcoins,” she breathed. “These areforgeries.”
“Bloody good ones.” Jacob took them from her and let out a slow whistle. “As good as Marjorie could have done herself.”
“Take that back,” Marjorie said hotly. “IfI’ddone it, I wouldn’t have been caught.”
“This forger has not been caught either, I’m afraid,” said Mr. Randall. “That is why Mrs. Lachlan is here. She has no usable money, and soon will have no home. Her landlord has granted her one week’s amnesty. She is hoping—”
“Accepted.” Marjorie plucked a false coin from Jacob’s hands and glowered at it. “Art is meant to improve lives, not ruin them. These forgeries are insult on top of injury. I will find who did this, and I will destroy him.”
“Where is our client now?” Graham asked the butler.
“In the sitting room.”
Kuni laced her fingers with Graham’s. “Then let’s get started.”
Eyes narrowed, Marjorie muttered to herself as she glared at the guineas.
All nine Wynchesters slipped away from the celebration to meet their new client…leaving the royal princess behind.
Kuni grabbed a tray of hot pies on the way.
