The Princess & the Pea (6 page)

Cece trudged toward the edge of the pond, wet skirts trailing in the water behind her. The smile faded from her face. "Why is that so ridiculous?"

"Why?" He stared at her as if she had just said something remarkably stupid. "Surely even you would admit women clearly have no head for things mechanical."

She clenched her teeth and forced a note of calm to her voice. "I think I would have done quite an acceptable job if you'd only instructed me properly."

He pulled his brows together in a manner stern and annoyingly superior. "I attempted to give you complete instruction. Apparently you were not paying as much regard to my directions as you should have."

"Complete instruction? Hah!" Her voice rose in accompaniment to her growing irritation. "If you had paid as much attention to making sure I understood the workings of your infernal machine as you did to wrapping your arms around me—"

"Wrapping my arms around you?" Jared stared in obvious astonishment.

"Don't you dare bother to deny it." She waded past him with as much dignity as she could muster in the now knee-deep water. "I know a flirtation, possibly even a seduction, when I see it."

Jared's mouth dropped open. "Seduction. How can you possibly believe I would try to seduce you while traveling in a horseless carriage?"

"That's what makes it so devious." She splashed the final steps out of the pond. "It's completely unexpected."

"Women." He practically spit the word. "Women make no sense at all. And I'm beginning to suspect mat's especially true for impulsive, improper American women."

"What on earth is that supposed to mean?" She smacked her hands on her hips and glared furiously. "You're trying to tell me I'm ... I'm ... I'm stupid because I'm American?"

Confusion shone in his eyes. "I did not say stupid. Did you hear me say stupid?"

"You didn't have to say it." She waved away his objections with an angry gesture. "It was implied."

"I didn't imply stupid. I didn't even mean stupid." He paused for a moment. "Foolish perhaps, but not stupid."

"Foolish?" Irrational, unreasonable fury swelled within her. How dare he insult her intelligence? Her gender? Her country? "Very well, Mr. Grayson, but let me tell you one thing. I'd much rather be a foolish American than a stuffy Englishman."

"Stuffy?" Bewilderment settled on his features as if she spoke a language he did not understand, and satisfaction surged through her. "Who said anything about stuffy?"

"I did." She cast him a haughty glance. "Stuffy and snobbish and straitlaced."

His eyes flashed. "I scarcely think you can accuse me of being straitlaced when you've just finished charging me with attempted seduction. It seems not being able to make up your mind is the very definition of foolish."

Cece gasped with fury. "Be that as it may: but I'm not foolish enough to stay here one moment longer and be insulted by an arrogant Englishman." She turned and marched up the hill.

"Arrogant?" he called after her. "At least the English have something to be arrogant about."

Quentin reached him and followed Jared's irritated gaze glaring at Cece's stalk up the hill. "I thought you liked Americans."

"Quentin," he said grimly, "as much as they may protest it, the behavior of women has nothing to do with nationality. This creature is a female first and an American second. American men are sane, rational, inventive and energetic." He raised a brow at his now grinning friend. "But women, all women, are either the most insipid, boring beings on the face of the planet or," he gazed in Cece's direction, "they are lunatics."

Quentin laughed and turned his attention to the leaning vehicle, tossing a comment over his shoulder. "I thought the short one was quite lovely, charming and relatively sane."

Cece met Emily halfway up the hill. The infuriating woman walked with the grace of a princess. Here was a female with no lack of confidence. A woman who could, no doubt, hold her own in many, if not most, situations. A woman who could easily rule an empire. Jared narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. "Who is she?"

"I believe her name is Emily." Quentin's voice came from behind the vehicle.

"Not herm" Jared said impatiently. "The other one, Cece."

"She's the daughter of an old friend of my aunt's." Quentin bent to check the carriage wheels, his words muffled, his manner vague. "Father's some kind of butcher, I believe."

Jared's mood darkened. Quentin's words brought back his own financial status and his urgent need to marry an heiress. Working with the automobile always distracted his attention from his problems and responsibilities. His heart always lightened here.

Dismally, he noted a vague disappointment at Quentin's words. It would have been interesting had Cece been an heiress. No, not interesting—irresistible. Still, the very idea of marrying Cece for her money twisted something inside him. A bare hour in her presence and he knew she deserved to be more than the mere instrument of what came perilously close to a business transaction.

He pulled his gaze from her retreating figure and turned to help Quentin right the vehicle.

"Pity," he said, and realized with a shock just how very much of a pity it was.

Emily greeted Cece halfway up the hill. Cece threw her an angry glance.

"Well." Emily said slowly. "I gather we'll be going on to London now."

"Don't wager on it." Cece squared her shoulders and glared straight ahead. "I'm going to Paris."

"Explain to me again exactly why we've come to Paris." Emily trailed in the wake left behind by Cece's determined push through the throng.

"We're in Paris, Emily," Cece said patiently, "because Mother has always wanted to see Paris and Father always promised to take her." She scanned the crowded park in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower. "It's as simple as that."

Emily shook her head. "Nothing is ever as simple as you make it sound. Even if I believed you—and I'm quite sure I don't—that still doesn't explain why you've dragged me into the midst of this ill-mannered mob."

Armed with her effortless American smile, imposing, beribboned hat and lethal parasol. Cece worked her way through the swarm. "Why, to see the start of the race, of course."

"What race?" Emily said cautiously.

"Paris to Bordeaux and back." Cece glanced behind her as if to confirm that Emily followed and proceeded with her relentless forward progress. "Seven hundred and thirty-two miles. The article in the
Herald
said it follows an ancient Roman route. It's all terribly exciting. It's history in the making and we shall be a part of it."

Suspicion narrowed Emily's eyes. "Do Mother and Father know we're here?"

"Don't be absurd." Cece's manner was nonchalant. "They'd never allow us to come alone." Her gaze skimmed the multitude. "They think we've gone back to the Louvre."

Emily gasped. "You lied to them."

"Not quite." Cece said absently, still searching the crowd. "If you recall, we did drive past the Louvre on our way here. We simply didn't stop."

"It's the same thing." Emily said, her words colored with indignation.

"Emily"—Cece stopped forging her way through the assembly and turned toward her sister, her tone tolerant—"I am nearly twenty-one. and you are fast approaching eighteen. We are grown women. Adults. If I had told Mother and Father, they would have treated us like children and forbidden us to come. And since I would have come anyway, it seems best if they are unaware of our little venture here. They can't possibly be upset about something they know nothing about." She raised a brow. "You won't tell them, will you?"

Emily released an exasperated sigh. "Of course I won't tell. But I am getting tired of keeping all these confidences of yours. You have more plots and plan simmering in your head than Mr. Jules Verne."

Cece smiled. "What a lovely thing to say. Thank you."

"It was not meant as a compliment," Emily muttered.

"I know. Now," Cece said briskly, "let us continue to make our way through this mass of people." Cece started off and Emily struggled to catch up with her.

"What on earth are you looking for anyway?" Emily panted with the effort to match Cece's much longer and far more determined stride.

"I just wish to get a good look at the automobiles." Cece said vaguely. They broke through the crowd into a cleared space. Automobiles were lined up in anticipation of the start of the race. Spectators and drivers and the curious milled around. "Oh, look, Emily, aren't they magnificent?"

Emily shoved through the assembly to join her sister and examined the vehicles with disdain. "They're machines, Cece, I hardly think magnificent is the appropriate word."

"Well. I think they're quite wonderful." She stepped closer and eyed the line of metallic steeds. "They certainly appear polished, don't you think? They make Mr. Grayson's vehicle look positively primitive."

"It is primitive," Emily said wryly.

"Not primitive," Cece corrected, "merely unique. Rare. What's new is always somewhat uncomfortable. It's progress, Emily. I think it's splendid." She stared at a particularly attractive vehicle, crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her head thoughtfully. "I'd wager these are more advanced than his. Look at them."

She walked along the line of automobiles, gesturing with a gloved hand. "They are obviously much more expensive than his as well. I doubt if Mr. Grayson has any money of his own at all. You know, Quentin's aunt is funding the development of their vehicle. And she's apparently never even met Mr. Grayson. She knows Quentin has a partner but isn't the least bit curious about him."

She shook her head in a pitying manner. "Imagine, no curiosity."

Emily cast her sister a wary glance. "How do you know all this?"

Cece smiled. "Servants."

Emily groaned. "You've been gossiping with servants?"

"I don't consider it gossip." Cece said airily. "It wasn't merely idle chatter. My discussions were for the express purpose of soliciting information. Interviews, if you will."

"Like Nellie Bly?"

"Exactly." Cece smiled, as if pleased with her sibling for understanding.

"Ladies, what an unexpected pleasure."

The sisters turned at the interruption.

"If it isn't the arrogant Englishman." Cece's gracious manner and extended hand belied her sharp words.

"And the lovely, foolish American." Jared took her fingers in his and raised them to his lips in a charmingly romantic gesture. "I gather you suffered no ill effects from our last meeting?"

"None whatsoever." Cece favored him with a smile and a twinkle in her eye. "Have you tried to seduce anyone else in your automobile?"

Enuly sucked in her breath. Jared's eyes widened in obvious astonishment. How on earth could Cece be so ... so ... so brazen?

"No." He pulled a watch from his waistcoat and flipped open the cover. "But the day is still young."

His comment hung in the air. Emily's gaze shifted in abject disbelief from Jared to Cece and back. Did these two have no sense of propriety? Was this duel of words some outrageous flirtation, or did they mean each other actual bodily harm?

Without warning, Cece's laughter snapped the tense moment. Jared joined her and the couple shook with mirth. Emily released a breath she hadn't realized she held.