Promised to the Swedish Prince - Sasha Cottman Page 0,23

We could sit down tomorrow and put a list of their names and details together. It would help you to move more freely through society in the coming months.”

“Thank you. I would really appreciate your help. If I can at least get people’s names and titles correct, it might help to smooth things when my English is a little rough,” he replied.

Erika drew in close. “How much have you comprehended this evening?”

He held out his hand tilting it back and forth. “Most, but then some not at all. I need to get my English up to speed and quickly. I have to be able to communicate easily at private dinners.”

She understood his problem only too well. Her father’s English was still not at the standard that he would have liked it to be and he had been in the country for over two years. But Magnus didn’t try to speak anything other than Swedish when at home, whereas Erika made every effort to speak the native tongue whenever possible. “Yes. The sooner you can converse properly with people, the better. My father and sometimes the baron rely upon me to translate, which is all well and good when it comes to formal events such as these where I can also attend. Private parties are a bit more of a problem.”

His brows furrowed at her words. “Why are private gatherings an issue?”

“Because we don’t get invited to them.”

Chapter Twelve

This was not what Christian wanted to hear. Select intimate functions were where many international deals and agreements were first conceived. Little wonder the envoy and his deputy hadn’t been able to make much headway.

If he was also excluded from the inner workings of English society, it would be almost impossible for him to get close to those in power. And if that was the case, the trade agreement would never happen.

His concern was obviously written all over his face if Erika’s responding frown was any sort of indication. Until now, he had thought his mastering of the language was the biggest hurdle in front of him. But Christian suddenly had a moment of cold clarity, and it gave him insight into the real problem.

The gates of English high society were locked against them. “Do you know why you are not graced with invitations?” he asked.

“Apart from the fact that the baron likes to work via official channels and is not one for social events? I think the problem for my father, and I is me. I am unwed—a status that the ton places major social restrictions upon. If you ask Magnus to a dinner party then I will also have to come, which presents a whole range of issues,” she replied.

Christian nodded. With Erika being considered an innocent, guests at a private party would feel obliged to behave in her company and mind what they said. Cordial behavior did not engender close relationships. And those were the sort of connections which greased the wheels of diplomacy.

What am I to do? There has to be a way to gain entry to the inner circle.

“Do you know any of the wives of the men who would be likely to participate in the trade agreement talks if we can get them?” He had to start somewhere—begin knocking on doors and trying at handles, until one of them was opened to him.

“I know Lady Lynch. Her husband, Sir Vincent Lynch, is a cabinet minister. Baron von Rehausen has said he will likely be the politician advising the British in any negotiations.” Erika pointed a finger in the direction of a group of society matrons.

Among them was a tall, slim woman dressed in a crimson gown, with a matching feather headdress. Even from this distance, he could tell she had a hard sheen about her. A coldness that having grown up in a royal palace, Christian had seen on women of rank many times before.

“Would you like me to make introductions?” she asked.

He considered her offer for a moment. It would, of course, be the right thing to do, but he was beginning to suspect that following the rules was not going to help them.

Christian leaned in close to Erika, placing his hand in the small of her back. His breath caught at the sensation of touching her, even though the fabric separated his fingers from her skin. It took a moment for him to compose himself before he felt able to speak.

“I want you to curtesy to me, and then go and find the supper room.