Page 22 of Her Royal Houseguest

‘Yes.’

She shot him an amused look. ‘He’s still working on his humility, isn’t he?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, I suppose that would be hard for any royal.’ She arched a brow at him. ‘Clearly you were never a monk.’

‘I was. I wore the robes for nearly a year until my father asked me to give it up to serve in his government.’

She smiled. ‘What did you do?’

He tried to find an adequate translation into English. In the end, he answered with what he did rather than what he was called. ‘I was the prince of all work.’

She gaped at him. ‘That sounds like…um…’

‘Please do not hold back your words. I wish us to understand one another.’

She smiled. ‘Well, that sounds like a humbling position even though you are a prince.’

It was. ‘I am very happy to be in England now where I will establish trade for the glory of both our countries.’

‘Glory?’ she asked. ‘Or profit?’

‘Are these not the same thing?’

She shook her head. ‘Not in England. Here, we look down on those who make money.’ Then she flashed him a rueful look. ‘But that doesn’t stop us all from wanting it.’

‘That is a confusing attitude.’

‘It’s hypocritical. My father glorifies money appearing—poof—without labour or care. But there is always labour and those who work should be appreciated, as I told him when I was ten.’

‘How did your father react?’

She winced. ‘As if I had spit in his food.’ She looked up at him. ‘That’s rude in your culture, yes?’

‘Very, yes.’

She gave him a small smile, her mood shifting from fury to resignation. He knew that shift. Fury turned to sullen acceptance of his fate. He’d been the butt of jokes, the one given every dirty, awful job in the harem when he was a boy and then as a prince of all work to his father. And he’d daily sought a way to change his lot.

Did she? Could she?

‘Do you despise your life?’ he abruptly asked.

Chapter Seven

Did she despise her life? What a thing to ask! Yet far from being insulted, Anna discovered that she enjoyed discussing things with their annoying guest. He was such a contradiction to her. As arrogant as any royal and yet there was genuine interest in his question.

Did she hate her life?

‘Of course not,’ she said but her words came out slowly. ‘I am the wealthy daughter of a duke. My every need is met and my interests indulged. Only a spoiled child would be unhappy in such circumstances.’

‘And yet you look unhappy. Is it truly only because the monks have taken over your rooms?’

‘Yes!’ Then honesty forced her to confess. ‘And no.’ She looked about the parlour. ‘All these things are interests of mine at one time or another. I think I am like your brother. A new taste, a new experience, a new thing to learn is so exciting.’

‘But you abandon it when it becomes difficult.’ Not a question but she refuted anyway.

‘Oh no.’ She pointed at an expanse of lace work. ‘That was so hard to even begin! I worked with a teacher for weeks. Day and night, I struggled with it.’ She shrugged. ‘I abandoned it when it got boring.’