It really wasn’t fair to the rest of mankind that a prince should have eyes like that. More accurately, it wasn’t fair to womankind.

“Perhaps I will, at some point,” she said, retrieving her hand.

“Now,” he said, sweeping her across the lawn without another look at Algie.

“What are you doing?” she hissed, trying to keep the dogs’ leashes from tangling with her skirts.

“Taking you out on the lake, of course.”

Mere seconds later they were on one end of a long boat the approximate shape of a green bean, with a footman punting them along from the other end.

“Algie—that is, my darling fiancé—won’t like this,” she said, wondering if she could take off her gloves and trail her fingers in the water. It was so beautiful, clear and dark blue.

“Yes, take them off,” the prince said, guessing her thought. “We’re far enough out that no one will see.”

“What on earth do you mean by taking me out in this boat?” she demanded, though she did pull off her right glove.

“Do you know what that group of women over there is talking about?” he said, jerking his chin toward the fluffy cloud of silks and satins in which she’d first spied him.

“No. Here—” She handed him Caesar’s leash. “Can you take care of him? Freddie will be fine, and Coco is actually quite well-behaved, but I wouldn’t put it past Caesar to topple in if he sees a fish.”

“I dislike dogs,” the prince said, looking disdainfully at Caesar’s fluffy tail.

“So do I,” she said cheerfully, and then remembered whom she was pretending to be. “Except for my own sweet doggies, of course.”

“Those women are discussing the extraordinary way you’ve changed since they last saw you in London, two months ago,” the prince said, leaning back and regarding her with a wicked gleam in his eye. “By all accounts, you were much more attractive a matter of a few months ago, rounded in all the right places, et cetera.”

“How churlish,” Kate said. “Very mean-spirited of them to be so critical after my illness. Kind of you to warn me, though.”

“So who are you?” the prince said, leaning in.

“Look, I think I see a fish, right there!”

“You are not Miss Victoria Daltry.” He reached out and took her hand, turning it over. His thumb rubbed slowly over her palm and her eyes rose to meet his. “Calluses. The darling of the ton would not have calluses. Not even after an illness.”

“Well,” Kate started, and stopped.

“Let me guess,” the prince said, with the kind of tempting smile that really ought to be outlawed. “Wick and I discussed it at length earlier this afternoon.”

“Wick?”

“My brother Berwick. He says you ratted to the fact that he’s my brother.”

“I may have surmised—” Kate begun.

“I surmise the same,” the prince said triumphantly. “In short, you are not Victoria Daltry. You are an illegitimate twig of the family, who for some unknown reason has replaced Victoria, thereby explaining many mysteries: your hands, your apathy toward both your dogs and my poor sod of a nephew, your lack of resemblance to the plump and powdery Victoria, and your knowledge of the sufficient area of a sow’s sty.”

“Plump and powdery?” Kate repeated, desperately wondering what she should say. To protest her legitimate birth seemed rather foolish, under the circumstances.

“One of the sharpest-tongued of the young ladies expressed grief over the fact that a doctor must have forced you to spend time in the sun, because you used to have the most beautiful skin.”

“She was distracting you, in the hope that you wouldn’t notice her cloven hoof.”

“Could be,” the prince said, grinning madly.

“I can see you’re finding this a great deal of fun,” she said crossly.

“Well, you are family,” he said. “That is, once Algernon has married the undoubtedly delectable Victoria, you’ll be part of my extended family.”

“Won’t that be lovely,” Kate said, scooping up a water lily. She stole a look at the footman standing in the punt’s stern, but he seemed to be preoccupied with avoiding the other boats skewing recklessly across the lake. “Related to a prince. On my list of things to achieve in life, I assure you.”

“Quite like the homeland, where, I assure you, half of the population is related to me on one side of the blanket or the other,” the prince said. “So what’s your name? Wick thought it might be Katherine, but he wasn’t sure.”

So Berwick had heard Rosalie’s slip of the tongue. “Katherine,” she admitted. “Though generally people call me Kate.”

“Gabriel,” he said.

“Though generally people call you Your Highness,” she pointed out, “and so shall I.”

“No one can hear us out here.” He leaned back looking rather happy, and she realized with a start that for the first time, he wasn’t looking at her mockingly. “What happened to plump and powdery Victoria?”

“Caesar bit her,” Kate said.

He glanced down at Caesar, who was standing with his front paws on the side of the boat, watching the water keenly in case he saw a reason to attack it.

“He may look tame, but he has a wild side,” she added.

“Shall I push him over?” Gabriel asked helpfully. “With all that hair, he would sink like a stone. Though not as fast as that little one. Are those jewels glued to her coat?”

“Not real ones. They’re glass.”

Gabriel leaned over and examined Coco more closely. “Actually, they are star sapphires. Although as a prince, I may not know their price , I can tell you that the value of that dog, jewels included, is approximately the same as a small cottage on the outskirts of this estate.”

Kate looked down at Coco with some dismay. “No wonder she’s so proud of herself.”

“Yes, she’s like one of those circus dancers who carry a dowry in her navel,” Gabriel said. “Obviously I truly missed an experience when Victoria was unable to come. She and I would have so much to talk about.”

“Do you decorate your dogs as well?”

“I have no dogs, but I’m willing to consider the lion as a substitute.”

“Your lion is desperate for a larger cage,” Kate said, scowling at him.

“Dear me,” the prince said lazily. “I’m afraid that we’re attracting quite a bit of attention.”

Kate looked up to discover that the lake was now positively littered with boats, and most of them seemed to be filled with aristocrats craning their necks in the direction of the prince’s punt. “Damn and blast,” she muttered. She shook the water off her hand, but there was nowhere to dry it. “Do you have a handkerchief?” she asked.

“No,” the prince said, looking amused.

“I suppose you have servants who carry around that sort of thing in case you sneeze,” she said.

“You aren’t carrying one either,” he retorted.

“I don’t have room; my reticule is full of cheese.”

“I thought you had an interesting smell! Most ladies smell rather French.”