Chapter 5
Five
AURELIA
The other fifteen. The other fifteen. The phrase runs through my head on repeat for the rest of my run.
That and the image of the prince flushed and wearing grey sweatpants.
I might be a virgin, but no woman is immune to the grey sweatpants effect.
And what did he mean by the other fifteen percent?
I know what he meant, but what does it mean?
A shiver runs through me, and not from the cold.
I think maybe he had wanted to kiss me. I could see his focus occasionally drifting from my eyes to my mouth. Maybe that wasn’t the first time he wanted to. It wasn’t the first time I wished he would.
Where is this feeling coming from? I can’t remember the last time I even thought about a guy in any way, much less hoped he’d touch me.
The last time I let a guy get that close…
Nope! Not going down that path. I can’t afford therapy on a student’s budget.
I blame the smut Aunt Sarah and Margaret have been thrusting my way.
I can’t put my finger on what exactly has me so worked up over Prince Friedrich.
I like to think I’m not so cliché and shallow as to fall for him merely because he’s the prince.
But he is a rather attractive prince. Eyes so blue they should be illegal.
Dark hair just long enough to tease at a bit of curl.
His well-groomed beard is an unusual choice for this part of Europe, but I never turn my nose up at good facial hair.
The very air around him seems to take notice, like he commands the attention of man and nature itself.
It is impossible not to be drawn to him. Especially when he smiles.
And then he goes and says things like trying to keep a rein on the other fifteen percent.
And why would he even bring it up, knowing he’ll soon be finding a wife?
He said he wanted to show me a good time.
I could tell last night he was talking about more than just football.
He only took it back after I reacted poorly.
But I can’t deny the way my body reacts at the simplest touch from him.
The warmth that floods low in my stomach, the way every nerve stands at attention with the slightest brush of his fingers, the way my heart rate kicks into overdrive at every press of his lips on my hand.
And I’m definitely being poisoned by the smut books because now I’m wondering what his lips would feel like on other places.
“Is everything alright, Aurelia?” Lady Maier asks at breakfast.
I’m making a poor attempt at eating in the hotel dining room, moving the food around, but not actually eating any of it. Liam is happily munching on quartered grapes in a highchair between us while Darcy nibbles around the crust of her toast with jam.
I keep pushing my eggs on my plate. I probably shouldn’t be talking to my employers about such things, but Lady Maier is so easy to talk to.
In the few months I’ve been working for the Maiers, they had welcomed me and treated me like family.
Lady Maier is only a few years older than me, and sometimes it feels more like talking to a big sister than my boss.
“Do you think a man can truly have only pure intentions in befriending a woman? Or if he doesn’t, is it possible for him to truly keep a hold on the impure parts?”
She laughs. “Men think with that thing between their legs first, brains second, and heart last. In my life, I’ve known very few whose intentions are strictly pure.” She eyes me sideways, studying me with a conspiratorial half-grin. “Is this a question about any man in particular?”
Heat rises to my cheeks. “Nope. Just curious.”
“You’re a terrible liar, Aurelia,” Lady Maier giggles under her breath. “But to your second question, yes, I think there are some out there that have refined the art of self-discipline enough to not act like complete Neanderthals.”
I snort. That makes me feel a little bit better, but it begs the question. How do I know which group the prince falls into? And why am I still so intrigued by that other fifteen percent?
Her grin turns to a full Cheshire Cat smile. “And I know for a fact that a certain prince is very choosy about the women he decides to let into his life. He’s as careful with other hearts as he is his own.”
I shoot up from my chair so fast I nearly knock it over. “Okay, children, let’s get upstairs and finish getting ready for the day, yes?” Liam reaches his arms up for me, and Darcy gladly abandons the toast crust she’s been picking at.
Lady Maier just gives a little finger wave as I flee. I have no idea how she knows about Friedrich, and I’m definitely not ready to talk about him in a non-hypothetical sense.
I try not to notice him during our travels and focus on my job.
My children are remarkable, only breaking their facade of good manners when naptime is drawing near.
We make several short stops along the north coast before heading back inland after lunch in another small fishing village.
The prince stayed at the train station for that stop, which was odd because he had been present for all activities in each town.
I put the children down for a nap in the sleeper car at the back of the train.
The long ride to the next city is the perfect time for a rest and recharge for all of us.
Several of the other nannies are sitting together in the carriage we share, drinking tea and gossiping.
I never feel comfortable around them. Most are much older than me, and all seem to see me as a raffish foreigner.
Also, I’m not a fan of hot tea. I’m all in on the American version, iced and sweetened beyond reason, but the stuff they drink around here tastes like leaf water.
I mosey from car to car in search of a cup of coffee to go with the e-book I’m reading on my phone.
The dining car is farther up the train near the front, and I pass several carriages carrying various officials and staffers with heads bent over laptops or stacks of papers.
Just as I hear a gale of women’s laughter in the next car, surely the dining car, my phone buzzes in my pocket.
My stomach jumps at the name flashed across my screen.
Fritz:
Care to join me for coffee?
Are you a mind reader?
No. Just figured you might need a little pick me up after an early morning and a full day of chasing kiddos
I really do!
My heart flutters as it hits me that the prince is actively seeking my time. Soccer matches, searching me out at dinner yesterday, now an invitation for coffee. I’m a little giddy as I work my way through the train.
The prince’s carriage is the second from the front.
One of the men who had pointed a taser at me early this morning is standing at the door with arms clasped behind his back.
He is rather handsome when he isn’t shouting at me to stay down, and fairly young, maybe early thirties.
Now he simply nods before opening the door to the car.
I stop just inside, stunned. It’s like no train car I have ever seen.
Carved wood and polished brass accent each wall.
There are a couple of large, comfortable-looking velvet lounge chairs near a long window where the scenery flashes by.
A minibar sits in one corner with bottles of different liquors secured behind brass railings, and glasses are tucked neatly in individual lined cubby holes.
A mahogany desk holding a laptop and stacked with papers sits against the wall opposite the window with an antique lamp in the corner whose pull string jingles with the rumble of the train.
I feel like I’ve been transported back in time and am traveling with the upper class in some nineteen-thirties period drama.
The prince enters through the other side of the cabin, and I’m struck again by how attractive he is. Those cheekbones are dangerous. And that smile, god, it makes me weak.
“That was fast,” he says.
I curtsy. “Your Highness.”
He is before me in an instant, taking my hand in his and pulling me up straight. I remember his hand in mine from this morning, and my heart speeds up once more.
“You don’t have to do all that when we’re alone,” he says, his grin widening. “And I’d really prefer if you called me Fritz.”
There’s that flutter again. Why does my body betray me so? “I don’t think I should.”
“Of course you should. I’m asking you to.” His eyes sparkle, and I think I might get lost in them.
“We’ll see.” I have to get out of this very personal space or I’m going to do something crazy, like kiss him. I go stand by the huge window, taking time to compose myself before I let myself be unwittingly drawn in by this man and all his charm.
“Coffee is on its way,” the prince says, coming to stand next to me. “I didn’t expect you so quickly.”
“I was already halfway here.” He’s standing close again, and the scent of his cologne is going to my head. Woody and smokey, but subtle and alluring and doing nothing to mitigate the excitement currently coursing through me.
“Coming to visit, were you?”
A smile ticks at the corners of my mouth. “No, I was going to slum it with the other plebs in the dining car.”
He barks out a laugh. “Beautiful and funny. You are something, Nanny Sumner.”
I turn to him, confidence rising a little as his easy manner works its magic on my nerves. “Just something?”
He raises his hand a bit, but drops it quickly, clenched in a fist. “Yeah. I’m just not sure what yet.”
A metallic rattle snaps our attention. A butler enters with a silver pushcart carrying various snacks and a metal carafe.
“Shall we?” Prince Friedrich gestures to the chairs behind us.
The butler begins to set out our spread after we sit, taking delicate china cups from beneath a white cloth and pouring coffee for the two of us. He drops two lumps of sugar in one cup, giving it a gentle stir before handing it to the prince. He then turns to me.