Up for Heir - Stella Starling Page 0,12

life had been the direct result of impulsive behavior.

Hugo cleared his throat.

Leo ground his teeth together, then reached down to scoop Treble off his foot and turned to face his valet, pinning her against his chest and vigorously scratching her behind the ears to keep from having his pectorals shredded. “What, Hugo?”

“We received a message from a Mr. Blom, Your Highness. He sends his regrets about the scheduled garden tour this afternoon, but informed us that neither he nor his sister will be able to attend.”

“Excuse me?” Leo asked, only realizing that he’d gone still when Treble bit his thumb. He glared down at her, then resumed scratching for the sake of efficiency (and personal safety) and turned the glare on his valet. “I’m sure you’re mistaken.”

Hugo’s eyes widened a fraction of an inch, his nostrils going so far as to flare at the insult. Then he pulled himself together, straightened his spine even more, and said in a clipped voice, “Of course not, Your Highness. I am never mistaken.”

But an oddly hollow pang of disappointment had hit Leo at the news, making it impossible to enjoy having actually succeeded in ruffling Hugo’s feathers for once. For a moment, he was at a loss. People didn’t just cancel on him. Not to mention that Eddie’s sister had been intensely enthusiastic about seeing the gardens, and Eddie himself… well, he hadn’t actually said all that much, but his face had been so delightfully expressive that it had been as easy to read as an open book.

Eddie had wanted to come, too. Leo was sure of it.

He cleared his throat. “Did he say why he, I mean they, couldn’t make it?” he asked, ignoring the pinpricks of irritation as Treble extended her claws, kneading his shoulder with the needles of death.

“No,” Hugo said in a clipped tone that told Leo, if Leo had cared, that Hugo was still offended. More evidence of that fact? The valet waited a full two beats before adding his ever-present, “Your Highness.”

Leo frowned, the light buzz of anticipation he’d had going all day souring even further. He’d been looking forward to the afternoon more than he’d admitted to himself, which was ridiculous, since there were an endless array of pursuits he could fill his time with, all of which were more exciting than garden tours.

Honestly, he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d voluntarily visited the palace gardens. The public ones were always swarming with tourists, and the private ones were… well, they were pretty enough, he supposed, but not exactly a hotbed of the kind of entertainment and diversion that he’d spent the last decade seeking out. His impulsive offer to give Eddie’s sister a private tour after she’d started gushing about them had been—

Actually, that offer had been exactly what Eddie had called him out for.

Leo’s lips quirked up without his consent at the memory. He’d been trying to get into the girl’s pants. More from habit than actual interest, if he was being completely honest, since he’d still been slightly hungover and already irritable about being required to attend the library event at all.

Although in his defense, he had vowed to find his own future queen just before meeting Miss Blom, and a vivacious young thing like that had, at the time, seemed like a natural place to start looking.

But then Eddie had stepped in, and Leo had been… surprised.

Leo quite liked being surprised. Being surprised by a fiercely blushing but stubbornly determined little librarian was a first, but something about Eddie had been inexplicably compelling, and… and dammit, Leo wasn’t happy at all about being stood up.

Not at all.

He frowned even harder, and the deceptively gentle vibration of Treble’s purring cut off as she bit him again.

“Shriveled shards,” Leo hissed, pulling her away from his chest at the cost of a good half centimeter of flesh. He held her out to Hugo as the tiny menace mewed pitifully, playing up the whole small, cute, and furry angle. “Please dispose of this, Hugo. Preferably in Ben’s suite. The local shelter is also acceptable. Or you can check with the kitchen. I’m sure blueberries—” Rosavia’s national food, “—would go well with a little fresh feline.”

Hugo ignored both Leo’s royal directive and the fluffy little ball of spite and malice dangling in front of him, primly folding his hands behind his back instead. “If there’s nothing else, Your Highness…”

There was though. Leo wasn’t one to wallow. He was a man of action.

“Wait,” Leo said, stuffing Treble