“Warts?” said a horrified woman nearby. “How vulgar.”

“I don’t care,” Alexandra said, smiling into the mirror at Maylee. “I wasn’t quite sure when Griffin told me, but I have to say, I’m impressed. You have my thanks.” The princess waved her makeup attendant forward, and the woman rushed in, cosmetic sponges in hand, to fix the crown princess’s makeup.

“Just be gentle with it,” Maylee cautioned. “Put some aloe vera on it tonight and cover it so you don’t irritate the skin more. The mark will go away in another day or so, but it shouldn’t blister.”

“That’s incredible,” Luke said, a relieved smile on his face. He grinned at the princess again. “You sure you’re okay, baby? Up to this party?”

“It doesn’t matter if I am or not,” Alexandra said, but her smile took the sting out of her words. “Give me ten minutes and I’ll be ready to go downstairs.” She indicated at a chair nearby. “Sit, Maylee. In case we need you again.”

“No more curling irons,” Luke said firmly. “You’re lovely just as you are.”

Alexandra’s smile curved her mouth. “We’ll just pin the rest.” She snapped her fingers and pointed at her hair, and the crying woman wiped her eyes and sprung into action.

Maylee approached the chair designated for her, but she smoothed her dress nervously. “If it’s all right, Miss Alexandra, I’d rather stand. I’m afraid I’d bust a seam or something awful, and then Mr. Griffin would be really unhappy with me.”

The princess stared at her mirror, but her gaze flicked to Maylee and then back again. “Speaking of Cousin Griffin, I see he’s dug out the family jewels?”

Maylee quickly touched both earrings and the necklace again. “Lordamercy, yes, and they’re making me as nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs.”

Luke snorted a laugh.

“Indeed,” Alexandra said in a pleasant voice. “Still, he must be pleased with your work.”

“Oh, this is just a loan,” Maylee said again, her hand pressing against the far-too-expensive necklace. “I think he felt sorry for me because I didn’t have any jewelry.”

“That doesn’t sound like Griffin,” the princess said.

“What doesn’t sound like Griffin?”

Maylee turned at the sound of his familiar voice, suddenly uncertain. “Hello, Mr. Gri—um, Lord Montagne Verdi.”

He moved to her side and put a hand on her shoulder. The move was oddly possessive for an employer, Maylee thought, but she didn’t pull away. It was kind of nice, really. Like he was including her in the group instead of making her feel like an interloper.

“Has George been sniffing around?” Griffin asked, and she felt his fingers tense on her shoulder.

“He has not,” Princess Alexandra said, leaning in so her attendant could whisk mascara on her lashes. “We’re about to head downstairs, which means the dancing will start. Are you going to run out as soon as it does, like usual?”

Griffin scowled. “I do not.”

“You do,” Alexandra said, and their bickering sounded more like siblings than princess and viscount. “I told Luke you always sneak out of these functions because you hate dancing more than he does.”

“Oh, are we going before we watch the dancing?” Maylee couldn’t help the wistful note in her voice. Now that they were here and she’d met the princess—who was quite nice, really—she was feeling more relaxed. And she wanted to see what an actual royal dance was like.

“I suppose we could stay for one,” Griffin said.

“Two,” Alexandra corrected, and got to her feet in a swirl of delicate blue frothing lace. “The first dance is for myself and Luke.”

* * *

Twenty minutes later, the princess and her fiancé had been announced to the crowd, and the band started to play. The official ball had begun, and Alexandra and Luke moved around the dance floor in an elegant swirl.

“She’s so beautiful,” Maylee breathed. “I’m so happy for her. She looks wonderful.”

“She does,” Griffin agreed at her side. He hadn’t left Maylee since they’d emerged from the princess’s chambers. When someone called Griffin over to chat, he’d more or less dragged Maylee with him. She’d been flattered, but remained silent as Griffin chatted with another politician about the recent Bellissime election of a prime minister. She watched him as he talked, though. Even if he didn’t want to be here, it was clear that he could handle himself with the crowd. He looked utterly at ease, small talk coming naturally to him.

Meanwhile, she stood at his side, tongue-tied and terrified of speaking and embarrassing him.

A round of applause made everyone look to the center of the floor, and Alexandra and Luke were leaving, heading to the dais where the queen watched the festivities from her throne. An additional throne had been set for Alexandra, and she sat down, Luke moving to stand just over her shoulder.

They looked wonderful, Maylee decided. Romantic and like something out of a fairy tale. She could have watched them all night, and judging by the dreamy expressions of some of the other women in the room, she wasn’t the only one.

Once Alexandra had her skirts settled, she gave a nod at the direction of the band, and the strains of another song began to play. Couples moved out onto the dance floor, and Maylee watched them with shining eyes. She wanted to etch the memory into her mind so she’d never forget it, all these expensive, gorgeous dresses and beautiful women on the arms of dashing, formally dressed men.

A hand extended in front of Maylee. “Shall we?”

She stared down at Griffin’s hand, then looked at him in surprise. “Really?”

“Really,” he agreed. “Though I must warn you, I have two left feet.”

“That’s okay,” she said happily, and slapped her hand into his. “I’m not much of a dancer, either.”

“Lovely,” he said in a dry voice. “We shall make a terrible pair together, then.”

His acerbic humor only made her laugh.

Her breath fluttered in her throat with excitement, and Maylee let Griffin lead the way as they headed out onto the floor. The song was stately, and everyone around them was clasping hands and moving closer to dance. Oh, how magical.

Griffin’s hands went to her waist, keeping her a modest length from him. Unsure of where to put her own hands, she slid them to his neck.

He gazed at her for a long moment, and she felt her breath catch all over again with the intensity of his stare, even through the square frames of his glasses that normally hid his expressions. His eyes flicked from her face, then down to the necklace at her throat. “I see you haven’t lost them.”

His words confused her. Was that meant playfully? Or did he truly think she’d do her best to lose his jewels? “No. I’ve been very careful.”

“Of course.”

They danced, more of a swaying than any sort of waltzing, which was what she’d imagined. It actually reminded her a bit of a high school prom, and a giggle escaped her throat.

“What is it?”

“Just thinking this reminds me of a school dance.”

A hint of a smile curved his austere mouth. “Oh? In what way?”

She nodded at a couple that moved nearby. “The dresses. The awkwardness. The cool kids and the wannabes.”

“Cool kids and wannabes?” His eyebrow rose. “Which one are you?”

“Oh, definitely a wannabe.”

“Why would you think that?”

She swallowed hard, averting her gaze from him. It was easy to do; she just pretended to watch everyone dancing nearby. “I just worry that I’m going to say or do something wrong and mess everything up. So I try not to speak.”

He shook his head and his hands clasped her waist a little tighter. “No one could be embarrassed by you tonight, Maylee.”

For some reason, that didn’t make her feel better. “Because I don’t look like myself, right?”

“Why would you think that?” He stared, his feet barely shuffling as they danced, and he was right; he wasn’t a good dancer. He’d stepped on her skirt twice and her foot once, but it somehow didn’t matter.

“You said so yourself.”

Griffin sighed.

“Well, you did,” she said defensively. “And then you drove me to the salon so they could make me look “presentable.” Your words.”

“You misinterpret them.”

“I’m really not sure how it’s possible to misinterpret them, Mr. Griffin. You just said that no one could be embarrassed by me tonight. Seeing as how I normally don’t look like this, I have to think I’m embarrassing on a day-to-day basis. And you made that pretty clear by buying me clothes.” Oh, now she was spewing all kinds of hurt at him. She needed to stop, but she couldn’t help herself. “So please tell me how I am misinterpreting that. I may be country, but I’m not stupid.”

“I never said you were stupid.”

“Let’s just forget I said anything, all right?” She was ruining this lovely evening. She then turned to look at all the incredible dresses whirling past. “I’m sorry I brought it up. I’m sure it’s not my place.”

“Miss Meriweather,” he began. Then said, “Maylee.” Then stopped again. And sighed.

And now she felt bad. He’d spent a lot of money to get her all gussied up tonight and this place truly was something she’d never forget.

“I . . . I am not good with people,” he admitted.

“Now that’s a lie,” she told him. “You’ve been swanning around with the rest of these nobles all night.”

“I’m good at mingling,” Griffin told her. “I’m not good with . . . people. One on one.” His hands moved at her waist, and he shifted, tilting his neck from side to side as if wanting to tug at his collar. “I know a lot of people, but I don’t have many friends, Maylee. And I never say the right thing.”

“You sure do say a lot for someone who doesn’t say the right thing,” she muttered.

His hands shifted on her waist and, to her surprise, he moved one of her hands from his neck and clasped it in his own. It was almost like a waltz, except she doubted either of them knew how to dance a waltz. “Just because I talk doesn’t mean that I don’t keep fucking things up.”

She squeezed his hand with hers, feeling oddly connected to him at the moment. Maybe it was the intense look of concentration on his face, or the words that echoed her own misery at being out of place. He was at home with high society and didn’t know what to say one on one. She was the opposite—she loved chatting with everyone, but amongst this glittering crowd, she felt like an alley cat that had somehow snuck through the back door. “So if you keep messing things up, what do you think you should be saying?”

Griffin swallowed and for a moment looked so uncomfortable she wanted to laugh. Then he spoke, and the laugh died in her throat.

“I should be telling you that I think you are . . . impressive,” Griffin said in a low voice. “I should tell you that your smile makes the room warmer. That the room seems a little darker when you leave.”

Her eyes widened. All of a sudden, his hand in hers felt incredibly intimate . . . incredibly sexual. It was almost as if he had it on her breast instead of against her own hand.

And for a wild, brief moment, she wondered what Griffin would be like in bed. Would he be that incredibly polished, arrogant—almost bored—nobleman he normally was? Or would she get a glimpse of someone else underneath?

“Say something.”

“I . . . I don’t know what to say,” she murmured. She was so astonished that she was at a loss.

“You’re blushing,” he declared, and that soft tone of his voice had changed a little, becoming a shade of its normal arrogant self. “That blush does ridiculous things to me, I’ll have you know.”

“You don’t have to sound so disgusted about it,” she said defensively. Was that supposed to be a compliment? Was she supposed to be flattered that he sounded revolted at the thought of being attracted to her?

“I’m disgusted because you’re my employee,” Griffin said. “You are off limits because of that. I am not a predator to attack you simply because I hold a bit of power over you.” He looked angry at the thought. “That is not a situation I should ever put you in. I shouldn’t have said a thing tonight, and yet here I am, spouting off like a teapot.”

For some reason, the thought of stuffy, staid Griffin as a teapot made her giggle hysterically.

The music slowed and the song ended. “And I’ve already said too much,” Griffin told her, and his hands left hers. People stopped dancing and turned to clap, and she and Griffin parted, leaving Maylee with a wealth of confused feelings.

* * *

They left the party about a half hour later, and Maylee was relieved to escape, despite the awkward car ride back to the hotel. Griffin was silent, occasionally fidgeting with his cufflinks.