No, the problem was that Rory had a secret so deeply hidden that even his brother didn’t know it. Rory was totally and absolutely in love with the woman his brother was going to marry.
He moved away from the tree and stood up straight. Maybe it was selfish of him, but he was going to do whatever he could to make this exchange happen. A few days with Danna were better than none at all. And the first thing Rory was going to do was see if he could clear a path for Graydon by getting rid of the roommate. Rory had been told that she worked for Roger Plymouth, a man he’d met several times. Maybe they could work out something.
As soon as Toby saw the inside of the little tent, she knew what the man was after. The question was why she had ever doubted his intention.
She stood there looking at the table with a cloth that went to the floor, lit candles, chairs that were draped in misty blue fabric, and she thought, Scene for Seduction. As she stepped back, she glared up at this man she had begun to think was such a nice person. “No, thanks,” she said, her voice as cool as the scene was warm. She started back toward the big tent where she’d be surrounded by people—not seducers.
When she was about twenty feet away, she heard him say, “Now what did I do wrong?” She took another couple of steps and meant to go on, but she stopped and turned to look at him. He was still standing by the tent and there was an expression of absolute bewilderment on his face.
She walked back to him. “What have you heard about me?”
Graydon blinked at her a few times. He’d assumed that she’d walked away because someone had told her that Graydon was a prince and she wanted nothing to do with him. When women outside his country found out that he was royalty, they went either of two ways. They ran away, or their eyes lit up and they started asking how many crowns he owned. It looked like this young woman was a runner.
But if so, why was she asking what he knew about her? “I don’t know much about you at all,” he said, his voice conveying his consternation. “Your name is Toby. You are a friend of the bride and the other bridesmaid. I’m afraid I don’t know much more than that. Should I have asked someone about you?”
Toby was beginning to be the one who was confused. “If you know nothing about me, then why all this?” She motioned to the tent. The flap was still open, with candlelight wafting over them.
“Oh,” Graydon said, seeming to at last understand. “You’re thinking like an American.”
“How else could I think?”
“Miss Wyndam, again I apologize. I have no ulterior motive with this dinner than to sit at a table and eat in peace, perhaps with some intelligent conversation. I would have asked my brother to join me, but you are prettier than he is, and you haven’t eaten, so …” He shrugged. “I must tell you that I have now apologized to you more than I have collectively in the entirety of my life.”
Toby couldn’t help but smile at the last part of his little speech. “Do we Americans often confuse you?”
“Endlessly,” he said. “You wouldn’t possibly reconsider and join me for dinner, would you? My brother is not happy with me at the moment and he wouldn’t be good company.”
“All right,” Toby said, and stepped inside the tent. She was beginning to feel that from their first meeting she’d been too harsh with this man.
He held her chair out for her, then took his. “May I?” he asked as he picked up a large spoon and fork and motioned to serve her. “What should I know about you that would cause you to refuse to dine with a man?”
“Nothing,” she said quickly, but he kept looking at her and waiting. While he looked somewhat like Jared, whose skin was always tan from spending time on his boat, she had an idea that this man’s skin was naturally darker. “Some of the boys on the island—and I do mean boys—have started trying to … to see who can, well, I guess you could say, win me.”
“I see.” He put scallops on her plate. “What is that American phrase? To ‘lure you astray’?”
She smiled at the old-fashioned term. “Yes, that’s what they’ve tried to do.” She help
ed herself to salad.
“But none of the young men appeals to you?”
Toby didn’t like where this conversation was going, as she certainly didn’t want to discuss her personal life. “You said your brother isn’t happy with you right now. Why not?”
“We had an argument about you.”
“Me? How could that be?” Her voice rose in alarm. “I don’t know either of you well enough to cause you two to argue.”
“I misspoke. Sorry again. My brother thinks I must tell you about myself. That not to do so is cruel.”
Frowning, Toby looked at him through the candlelight. “I think you should tell me what this is about.” She had visions of his having a prison record, that he was just out of rehab or under investigation by Interpol.
“My American grandfather married the woman who inherited the throne of Lanconia, so that makes me and my younger brother princes.”
“Oh.” It took Toby a moment to recover her equanimity. “Did your grandfather do a good job?”
“Yes, he did,” Graydon said. “He took my old country into the twentieth century. Thanks to him, we are now self-supporting. We’re still old-fashioned enough that we draw tourists but that helps the economy. When my father reached forty, my grandparents turned the throne over to him and my mother. My parents have done a wonderful job, but with fewer Americanizations.”
“So you’re to be a king. Is there anything else I should know about you?”