A Royal Kiss and Tell

Hollis’s periodical had been originally established by her late husband, Sir Percival. His publication had been a once-monthly conservative gazette that highlighted political and financial news in London. After his tragic death in a carriage accident, Hollis refused to let the gazette go. She was determined that the paper survive to honor Percival. However, she didn’t know a lot about politics and finances, so she turned the gazette on its head and dedicated it solely to topics that interested women. Now the gazette was bimonthly with more than three times the subscriptions of Percival’s and growing.

Caroline took it upon herself to point out how stunning was her gown. “Look at how beautiful I am!” she declared, holding her arms wide. “I think my gown is as beautiful as Eliza’s. Don’t you?”

Hollis barely looked up. “I can’t see the gown, really—I am blinded by your modesty.”

Caroline snorted. “Someone must make note of this gown, and if no one will, I will.”

“The gown is stunning. But Beck is right, Caro—you are terribly vain.”

“Well, it’s hardly my fault, is it? I’ve been so long admired that I can’t help but believe my appeal.”

Hollis looked up, surprised by Caroline’s lack of humility.

Caroline laughed. “I was teasing you, Hollis, although you must admit there is some truth to it. Now will you look at my gown? Frankly, it’s better than even yours, and I thought yours was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.”

“Your gown is always better than mine,” Hollis said, and leaned back, examining Caroline from head to toe. “You’re right. It is beautiful. You

are beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Caroline said, and dipped a small curtsy. She whirled back to the mirror, and in doing so, caused one side of the train to come unbuttoned and fall. “Oh bother.”

“Come,” Hollis said, gesturing her forward like a child. She refastened Caroline’s train to one of the buttons meant to keep it from dragging twenty feet behind her. “Remember, no sudden movements. They come undone when you twist and lurch about.”

“I do not lurch, and

you remember to put your pencil away tonight,” Caroline said. “It’s the royal wedding ball, Hollis.”

“As my sister is the bride, I am keenly aware of the occasion, darling. And I am dressed for it, as you can see. But I will not risk forgetting a single detail! The only way to ensure that I don’t is to write things down as I observe them.”

Hollis’s dark blue eyes flashed with determination. Caroline knew that she wanted more than anything for her gazette to be taken seriously by everyone in London.

Ah, but Hollis looked so much like Eliza, even though her hair was so darkly brown it looked nearly black, whereas Eliza’s hair was the color of spun gold. The sisters were very comely women. If Caroline didn’t love them so, she would be envious. “You know, darling,” Caroline said slyly, “if you were to look up from your notes, at an event like this it is quite possible that you might meet your one and only.”

Hollis gasped as if Caroline had slapped her. “How dare you even suggest it, Caro! Percival was my one and only, and there won’t be another! It’s not possible there will ever

be another love like what we shared.”

Caroline turned slightly so that Hollis could not see her roll her eyes. The way she went on about her late husband was enough to make womankind across the globe give up any hope of finding perfect love, because Hollis and Percy had taken it and locked it away, never again to be experienced in this world with the same intense passion.

And yet there were some—including Caroline, frankly—who believed that the beautiful Widow Honeycutt had found her next love in her houseman, Donovan. Everyone who had ever called at Hollis’s house noted the striking good looks and virile physique of her butler. Or manservant. Or cook—whatever role it was Donovan filled. Hollis was rather vague about it, and Donovan was slavishly devoted to her. Caroline assumed he and Hollis were having a forbidden love affair. She certainly would be tempted if she were in Hollis’s shoes. A woman of her standing would not publicly consort with a manservant, but behind closed doors, well... Hollis was a widow after all.

“Keep your mind to your one and only,” Hollis muttered.

Caroline didn’t say anything. She supposed it was possible—after all, important gentlemen of all stripes would be in attendance. So would that wretched Prince Leopold, who always looked so detached, as if he thought himself above everyone else in the room. All right, she would concede that by virtue of his very good looks and his princely title he was above most, but he wasn’t a king, for heaven’s sake. But never mind him. She refused to think about him another moment. She had thought about him entirely too much in the last few weeks when she should have been thinking about much more important things.