No sneaking off and having a little kiss in a dark corner. Not that he would have minded, but Erika had made clear her position on the matter of affection, right at the outset.
As he sat at the breakfast table pushing a cold piece of haddock around on his plate and wishing it were pickled herring, Christian struggled with how he was going to mend things between him and Erika.
The clock on the mantelpiece chimed eight o’clock. He had been sitting alone in the room for the past forty minutes, waiting for Erika to make an appearance.
Oh, you have made a pretty mess of things.
He had fought hard to overcome his impetuous nature, done all he could to stamp it down. But when it came to Erika, his impulses were always threatening to revolt and take command.
He pushed back his chair, ready to go and find her. At the same time, the door swung open and the rotund and ever cheerful Mette, the house cook, entered the room. She carried a plate of boiled eggs, potato, and sour cream in her hands, smiling proudly as she placed it on the table in front of him.
“God morgon, Your Highness,” she said.
He bowed his head. In the short time since Christian had been in residence at the house, the Jansson’s cook had made every effort to serve his favorite food. What she lacked in talent in comparison to the highly skilled chefs of Stockholm Palace, she more than made up for in enthusiasm.
“This looks delicious. You do spoil me, Mette,” he said.
A clearly flustered Mette blushed a deep red and bobbed a quick curtsey before leaving the room.
There was no way Christian could leave the food untouched. Mette was a sweet woman. The last thing he wished to do this morning was to offend another member of the Jansson household.
He helped himself to two large portions of the home-style cooking and settled over his plate. “This smells wonderful,” he said.
“I am glad you like Mette’s cooking. She takes great pride in being able to serve a member of the royal family,” replied Erika.
Christian let out a slow, low sigh. He was relieved to see her. The worry that she was going to avoid him today eased a little.
Rising from his chair, Christian closed the door, leaving the two of them alone. “I want to apologize about last night. It was completely unacceptable of me to kiss you in such a fashion. I promise it will not happen again.”
A flash of what he thought might be disappointment crossed her face. It was there and gone in an instant.
“It was the end of a long night and both of us had probably had far more champagne than we are used to drinking. Let us put it down to a momentary lapse of judgement and move on. We have bigger things to concern ourselves with,” replied Erika.
She held out a pile of letters in her hand and waved them under his nose. “Thirty invitations arrived early this morning. Balls, parties, and private dinners are going to take up every waking moment for the both of us for the foreseeable future. It would appear that everyone and anyone wants to have the sweethearts from Sweden on their guest list. Which means . . .”
There was a long and uncomfortable pause during which Christian’s mind went to a number of dark places. How much damage had that kiss done?
“Which means?” he replied.
“We are going to have to work together in social situations while doing our best to ensure that we don’t slip up ever again and let something like last night happen. It was a onetime mistake, and it must remain so.” She dropped the letters onto the table and began to sort through them. Christian reluctantly resumed his seat and his breakfast.
The message was clear. Small tokens of affection were for public consumption only—everything else was off-limits.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Erika was grateful that King Charles had furnished Christian with a substantial line of credit. With all the social events they were now attending, she was spending a large sum of his money on new gowns and slippers. The cost of making sure they were the talk of the town was eye-watering.
Early-morning fittings at her modiste coupled with late nights at balls and parties left her exhausted. After she had fallen asleep in one of their planning meetings, Baroness von Rehausen had pressed upon her the need to start taking an afternoon nap.
“Believe me, after having been pregnant as