What Happens in London (Bevelstoke #2)(55)

“What is this ‘baronet’?” the prince asked.

“Endlessly in between,” Harry replied with a sigh. “A bit like purgatory, really.”

Alexei turned to Olivia. “I do not understand him.”

“He means, or at least I think he means”—she shot a peeved look at Harry because she had no idea what he thought he was doing, purposefully antagonizing the prince—“that baronets are not a part of the aristocracy, and yet they are not untitled. That is why he is called Sir.”

Prince Alexei still looked confused, so Olivia explained, “In order of rank, beneath royalty, of course, there are dukes and duchesses, marquesses and marchionesses, earls and countesses, viscounts and viscountesses, and finally, barons and baronesses.” She paused. “Then baronets and their wives, but they are considered part of the gentry.”

“So very low,” Harry murmured, having fun with this now. “Miles and miles below someone like you.”

The prince glanced at him for barely a second, but it was long enough for Olivia to see the distaste in his eyes. “In Russia, the aristocracy provides a structure for society. Without our great families, we would fall apart.”

“Many feel the same way here,” Olivia said courteously.

“There would be—how do you say it…”

“Revolution?” Harry supplied.

“Chaos?” Olivia guessed.

“Chaos,” Alexei selected. “Yes, that is it. Revolution I do not fear.”

“We would all be wise to learn from the experiences of the French,” Harry said.

Prince Alexei turned on him with fire in his eyes. “The French were stupid. They allowed the bourgeoisie too many freedoms. We do not make this mistake in Russia.”

“We do not fear revolution in England, either,” Harry said softly, “although I expect it is for different reasons.”

Olivia’s breath caught. He’d spoken with such quiet conviction, in such contrast to his earlier flippancies. His serious tone could not help but capture the moment. Even Prince Alexei paused and turned to him with an expression that was…well, not respect, exactly, for he clearly did not appreciate the comment. But perhaps there was some sort of recognition, an acknowledgment of Harry as a worthy opponent.

“Our conversation grows so serious,” she declared. “It is far too early in the day for such talk.” And when that failed to garner an immediate response, she added, “I can’t bear political discussions when the sun is shining.”

Actually, what she couldn’t bear was making herself out to be a complete ninny. She adored political discussions, at any time of day.

And the sun wasn’t shining, either.

“We are most rude,” Prince Alexei said, rising from his seat. He came before her and sank to one knee, leaving her speechless. What was he doing?

“Can you forgive us?” he murmured, taking her hand.

“I—I—”

He brought her knuckles to his lips. “Please.”

“Of course,” she finally got out. “It is—”

“Nothing,” Harry put in. “I believe that is the word you’re looking for?”

She would have glared at him if she could have seen him around Alexei, who was presently filling her entire breadth of vision. “You are of course forgiven, Your Highness,” she said. “I was being silly.”

“It is the right of all beautiful women to be silly when they wish.”

The prince moved at that point, and Olivia did catch a glimpse of Harry’s face. He looked as if he might gag.

“You must have a great many appointments here in London,” Harry said, once Alexei had resumed his seat.

“I am given several awards,” he said, looking confused and annoyed by the change of subject.

Olivia jumped in to translate. “I think what Sir Harry means is that you must have many commitments, many people to meet.”

“Yes,” Alexei said.

“Your days must be very busy,” Harry added, his voice just a touch impressed and fawning.

Olivia frowned. She had a feeling she knew what he was up to, and it would not end well. “You must lead a very exciting life,” she said quickly, trying to shift the conversation.

But Harry was not to be diverted. “Today, for example,” he mused. “You must have a terrific schedule. How honored Lady Olivia is that you should take time out to see her.”

“I would always make time for Lady Olivia.”

“You are ever generous with your company,” Harry said. “From what do we take you this afternoon?”

“You take me from nothing.”

Harry gave a knowing little smile, just to show that the insult, while noticed, had not stung. “Where else could you be this afternoon, Your Highness? With the ambassador? With the king?”

“I could be anywhere I wish.”

“Such is the privilege of royalty,” Harry mused.

Olivia bit her lip nervously. Vladimir had begun to inch his way over, and if there was to be violence, Harry was not going to emerge the victor.

“I am so honored by your presence,” she said—the absolute only sentence she could think of quickly.

“Why, thank you,” Harry quipped.