June 1811

Birth, in Caroline's opinion, did not have the best beaches, and she told Trent the same when they arrived in the grand villa Prince Albert owned in the said place.

"Yes, of course, because you believe Herst is the best, but thinking of your dear friend Ellise, it is a more dangerous place than Birth," he wryly replied, turning around to face the vast ocean before them. "I had an inkling this was going to be a big party, but I had no idea it is going to be this big."

Caroline stared at the number of people crowded by the beach, most of whom already in their swimming wear despite the chilly afternoon. "It may be June, but summer has not yet arrived," she commented, shaking her head. "They will all freeze to death before the evening ball."

"Lady Caroline," a voice said behind her and she turned to find the stiff butler wearing an awkward smile. She raised her brows in question, but the man turned to Trent instead. "My lord, I have words from His Highness."

"What is it?" asked Trent.

"His Highness regrets to inform you and Lady Caroline that you will have to—"

"Caroline!" a familiar voice rang out from the direction of the stairs. Albert himself was bounding down the stairs, his white shirt halfway open. It was rare for anyone to see him this way for he was always put together. But whenever he was in the vicinity of his comfort, Albert would never miss the chance to display a more informal wear. "Now, now, I hope you do not mind."

"Mind what, Albert?" she asked.

Albert reached them, blue eyes glimmering with merriment. His blonde hair, which was always carefully arranged, was being blown by the wind coming through from the beach. "I truly am sorry, dear cousin, but I have not expected this many guests," he said, waving his arms around. He was lying, of course, for Caroline could see in his smile that he was satisfied by the number of guests. "And my villa can only accommodate a hundred and fifty rooms—"

"You mean to say that I will have to share with another," she finished for him. "Albert, I was invited here with a promise of a room all to myself."

"You will be sharing it with the loveliest woman. Charisse is quite fond of you. I am certain she will not mind."

"No matter, I shall share with Trent," she said with a wave of her hand. "We are practically married."

Albert turned to Trent, brows raised high.

"We are yet to be married, but I already have to say yes," Trent droned and Albert laughed. The prince took her hand and leaned down to plant a big kiss on it. "Thank you and please enjoy the party. Should a room be available, you will be the first to know."

And without a word, he was gone, bounding down the stairs of the veranda to join his guests. The butler, finding no need to stay, also made a graceful exit.

"Need I remind you?" Trent asked when they were alone.

"No, I know coming here was my choice," she tersely replied.

He let the silence linger as the footman led them to their room. "Do you still have the dreams?" he asked her.

Her jaw tightened. "Yes."

He nodded. "Very well, I have no choice, do I? The poor man who will share my room will have to find another."

⠒♣◆♣⠒

Albert's parties were always extreme in Trent's opinion. The crown prince may be regarded by those outside his circle as a highly educated gentleman—which he was—but when in a gathering such as this weekend party he arranged, Albert would let loose another side of him that may even be unknown to his father, the king.

"Now that I think of it," Caroline said beside him, "I am not surprised why I made so many mistakes in the past. There were merely two types of parties I attended: the ones held by the royals and childish, scandalous wild ones."

He scoffed. "And still you judge Humbrick."

"It is not I who despise Humrbick. As a matter-of-fact, I am quite curious—is it far scandalous than Albert's parties?"

Trent considered his reply. "Well, for one, most people in attendance at Humbrick are a little older with political games also at play behind closed doors. Albert's parties, however, are scandalous because of the younger people who flock it. But I must concur that the childish games are a mite more enjoyable."

She rolled her eyes. "I was one of these children many years ago," she said, motioning her head at the women, ages seventeen to nineteen—or mayhap twenty—dancing together in a peculiarly modified quadrille, probably of their own making after many bottles of sherry.

"You are four and twenty, Carol. You are not old."

"I cannot imagine the many wrong friends I have made in the past."

"You never made that many. You have made terrific ones, me included. And although I disagree, you do not consider Ellise St. Vincent one of those wrong friends, do you?"

"Ellise is perhaps the only good friend I have apart from you. And I did not even meet her at a party such as this one." She smiled as she reminisced the day she met the woman. "She was like a warrior angel that day, do you not agree?"

Trent murmured something under his breath. She heard and chuckled.

"Ellise whipped your bloody arse in that fencing game."

Trent gritted his teeth. "But Robert Dior had it far worse. The man still hold grudges, I believe. It was the only time he was ever deemed a loser."

Before she could utter a reply, a woman, dragged Caroline away from Trent, shouting over the music, "A game, Caroline! Come!"

He saw the panic in her eyes when she looked over her shoulder at him for help. He followed, walking close behind her through the crowd of young men and women, and through the large doors that led to a large terrace.

"Ah, perfect!" shouted Albert, his face red from the wine, "My dear cousin! And the Earl of Chalbarth! Perfect, just perfect!"

As Caroline was ushered to join the large circle, Trent noticed the small table at the center. Lying on top of it was a deck of cards. In truth, he rather liked the Albert who preferred chess than the one that was hosting tonight.

A pair of hands pulled him into a circle and he was trapped between two foxed, giggling women.

"I have come up with a bloody good game," Albert announced, swaying in his feet. "Now, as I was saying, everyone ought to get six cards. The goal is to rid yourself of all cards by finding their match. Throw it on the table. Every three seconds—"

"I believe this is not an original, Albert," one woman said with a laugh.

"Well, this is a bloody simple game. Anyone could have invented it, including I," retorted Albert, giving the woman a severe look before his smile returned and he continued, "Every three seconds, we pass one card to the person to the right. Aye?"

"Aye."

"You get a chance to find a match for your cards when the person to your left hands hers. Aye?"

"Aye!" the women replied with a laugh while the men excitedly urged for Albert to start the game.

"The last person is the loser, of course, and shall suffer the consequence."

Trent turned to Caroline who met his gaze and shrugged. They had been here for hours and she had made no progress. If there was anything Albert was doing here, it was nothing but chaotic entertainment. And if there was anyone here in this party that was planning something with Albert, they would have so much trouble finding him or her because apart from their group, twenty or so more others were doing something else all over the villa.

The first round of the game was a little anarchic, but everyone eventually learned the simple rules. More rounds of drinks were emptied before the first loser was determined. The poor, foxed young man was asked to run straight into the cold water and suffer two waves. Albert had to pull another person into the game while the first loser disappeared back into his room to change.

The second loser was a lady. "I would not get myself wet!" she insisted. "I will do anything but that."

Albert sighed and looked around. "Very well, then, as the host of this game and as your future king, I say that your penalty is to kiss Lady Jane."

The woman's eyes widened, so did Lady Jane's. "But Your Highness—"

Albert waved his hand to the sea. "The waters it is, Charisse."

Miss Charisse, the youngest daughter of a baron, turned to Lady Jane. Lady Jane scoffed in disbelief before she reached for a glass of brandy, downed it down, and approached Miss Charisse.

"Truly?" Miss Charisse asked.

"Or would you rather get wet and then fall ill by the morrow?" asked Lady Jane.

"I—No!" Miss Charisse shouted, stepping away from Lady Jane who was wearing a knowing smile on her lips. "I would never kiss a woman!"

"Very well, do not keep us waiting, Charisse, dear."

Charisse turned away from Lady Jane and stiffly walked down the veranda. "She should have kissed you," Caroline said to Lady Jane, eliciting a round of laughter from everyone, including Trent. Charisse shouted as she ran to the waters, braving the cold, night wind. Other guests from the veranda of the villa's second landing howled at her, joining the cheers from below, save for Caroline who shivered at the act, imagining the freezing water. Trent merely shook his head at he absurdity of the game.

As a footman met the shivering Charisse with a large towel moments later, Trent turned and was about to announce that he would like to retire, all the while thinking that he and Caroline should look around the villa for anything that might suggest Esther's accusations. But Albert was already handing out cards. With a sigh and a promise that this would be the last round, Trent picked up his cards and the game resumed with the new player from the ballroom to replace Charisse.

He concentrated on the game and soon, his hand was empty. He turned and watched Caroline who was biting on her lower lip, brows furrowed, eyes restlessly checking her cards as she plucked, passed, and received a new one. Strays of her hair were flying about as the wind blew. He stole the harsh beach a look. She would never enter those waters.

More players shouted in triumph and Trent started to feel uneasy. Caroline was still in the game. Another player was freed and Caroline was left to battle with two people.

In merely a few seconds, she lost.

Caroline was never a good loser and the moment she lost, Trent knew what he had to do.

He eased through the two people separating him from her and reached for her hand that was still holding her remaining card.

And then he pulled, sending her toward him, facing him.

Albert's consequence was left unspoken as Trent cupped Caroline's face. In a split second before the act, he saw her forest green eyes widen. He heard the collective gasps around them as he planted his lips against hers.

⠒♣◆♣⠒

Caroline had kissed Trent numerous times before, but that was before they found other better things to do. They enjoyed it as children, experimenting, and having fun, playing make-believe that they were husband and wife, which they both knew they would someday be once they grew older.

They were childish plays and had long been forgotten as time went on.

She learned her first real kiss with someone else and he surely did learn his with a young woman in his first ever ball, in the dark corners of a garden.

They both knew that they had their fair share of kisses, but she never imagined kissing him. The thought may have crossed her mind time and time again—she would be a hypocrite if she denied it—but she always shook the thought off, considering such instances as a mishap of a wandering, jaded imagination.

Yet now, as his lips were on hers in what seemed to be a kiss—for it was a kiss, was it not? His lips were touching hers, after all—she wished that she had given herself the liberty to imagine so she could have come prepared.

For it was obvious to her—and shamefully to him— that she was not prepared for this one.

She never imagined that the soft touch of his lips could be so...real.

And goodness, it was real and raw, and it was so undeniably compelling that her mind could barely grasp this new truth.

This was no longer her imagination venturing into strange spaces.

Her heart seemed to have not just stopped, but it slammed hard against her chest and never returned to beat again.

The gasps of the people around them had turned to swoon-sounding cheers, and they too disappeared.

But before Caroline could decipher how she felt, or why he did what he did, his mouth lifted from hers.

Her eyes fluttered open and she saw something flash in his brown globes before he blinked and looked away to face Albert. "I could not let my future wife kiss Lady Jane," he said.

Caroline swallowed and blinked once, twice.

Was that even a kiss? She wondered. His mouth barely moved and she surely was rendered immobile.

She could see everyone laughing at Trent's words, but she could only hear a faint sound.

But she heard Trent, did she not? His light, deep chuckles reverberated to her ears.

And why were her hands shaking? Why was she breathless as though he stole the life out of her?

Had she known? Did she, even in the tiniest bit, know that a kiss with her best friend would not be ghastly after all? That in fact, it could be something possible and undeniably pleasant? Or was it more than that?

Incredulous, she thought. A kiss? It was no kiss, a voice in her head tried to reason. You have kissed him as a child. His lips felt just like the other men you have kissed before.

She should agree, but then she could not.

She turned, ran her shaking hands over the skirts of her dress, moistening her lips—anything to snap herself out of the little bubble she was still in.

She was not used to being surprised like that and Trent, of all people, knew that. But if he threw her into the water instead, she knew she would have recovered faster. What he did was different. He threw her into an open pit while she was asleep with no means of return thus far.

She could feel him pressed beside her. She could sense the warmth of his skin through his coat jacket as he tried to jest to everyone how the waves would retract from her presence if she were to choose the waters as consequence.

Her eyes wandered around. She heard Trent but could barely hear what Albert was saying. She pulled her lips into what she hoped was a smile.

Was she turning deaf? But she could hear Trent's breathing beside her.

What in the devil, she thought in a daze as she turned her head to look up at him.

His brown eyes surreptitiously lowered, meeting her gaze.

Her heart seemed to have realized it had to work and it began to beat, albeit faster this time, thudding hard against her chest as she desperately searched Trent's eyes.

He smiled at her, a faint one that curled only the outer corners of his mouth.

What did it mean?

His hand found hers and squeezed.

She blinked.

What? What was he trying to tell her?

Caroline tore her eyes from his and turned to face the others.

Slowly, she began to breathe again.

How in the devil could it be?

She was confused because, for the first time, Caroline could not read Trent Durham.