*Quin*
Brielle appears both admiring and awed, yet maintains composure and self-respect. This is how a Miss should regard an Alpha Prince. And she hasn’t giggled once. Miss Althea, however, giggled the moment I held out my arm.
“I hope that my mother’s invitation did not draw either of you from London at an unwelcome time,” I say, leading Brielle and Althea across the terrace, one Miss on either side. Cleese has set up a table at the far end, under the shade of the blooming clematis.
“Not at all,” Brielle answers. “I must confess that I was finding the mating season slightly tedious.”
“You have been out a number of years, haven’t you?” Miss Althea asks. Then she adds with a charmingly flustered air, “I do hope that I haven’t embarrassed you with that observation, Miss Brielle. You look
