Promised to the Swedish Prince - Sasha Cottman Page 0,49

heavily dependent on the likes of this evening’s hostess, he might have said something less than polite in response. “Countess Erika Jansson is proving a little hard to find,” he replied.

Lady Lynch chortled. “Well of course she is. Her carriage left over an hour ago.”

It took a great deal of Christian’s diplomatic training not to show his disappointment. The haughty superior look on Lady Lynch’s face almost begged him to respond. He could tell she was testing him, wanting to see if he would drop his guard.

This is not the first time I have dealt with your kind. You are mistaken if you think the Swedish court is full of lightness and loyal friends—far from it.

The political battle that had waged a few years earlier over who the eventual heir for the childless King Charles would be had taught Christian a great deal about the matters of courtly intrigue and game play. He was not as innocent in the machinations of politics as Lady Lynch might think.

“Ah, yes. Erika has an early appointment in the morning. We did agree that she might possibly have to leave before me. Thank you for the reminder,” he replied.

Christian quickly headed toward one of the supper tables, picked up a plate and began to pile food on it. He wasn’t particularly hungry, but the pantomime had to play out. If the British thought for one minute that there was any sort of discord between the Swedes, they would pounce and capitalize on it.

As he took a bite of a cold pork pie, he made a silent promise. Come the morning, he and Erika would be having words. And while his fake fiancée may not like what she was going to hear, he was damn well going to make her listen.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

“Why did you abandon me last night?”

Erika wheeled round at those words and glared at Christian. How dare he? How bloody dare he?

“I abandoned . . . Oh! You were the one who went off crawling into dark corners, leaving me to smile and make pretty all evening,” she replied.

The middle of Manchester Square gardens was hardly the place for an argument, but if Christian wanted a fight, she was more than willing to give him one. She let Freya from her leash and the dog bounded off in the direction of a nearby shrub.

Christian hurried his steps toward her, stopping only a matter of a yard away. Erika straightened her back. She was not going to be intimidated. Six foot three and strongly built, Christian had a presence about him. As far as she was concerned this morning, he could take his handsome, heart-stopping self elsewhere.

“Go away. I am trying to have a peaceful morning stroll in the gardens with Freya. If you wish to discuss last night, you can wait until I am home.”

“No. We talk now. I wanted to speak to you at home, but you had already fled. And what do you mean by accusing me of crawling into dark corners?” he replied.

She huffed and moved closer. “Don’t try to tell me your lies. You and Lady Lynch were gone for several hours last night. And her son did his best to stop me from going looking for you.”

He shook his head. “You have it all wrong, Erika. I wasn’t with her.”

“Really? Are you going to stand there and lie to my face?”

When he scowled at her, Erika threw up her hands in disgust. She wasn’t stupid. It was obvious he was trying to come up with a plausible story to tell. To placate her. To keep her silent. “Don’t bother explaining anything of last night to me. I am honestly not that interested. All I would ask is that in future if you intend to abandon me at a social function, that you at least have the manners to tell me beforehand.”

“The British sprung the trade agreement negotiations on me last night. That’s where I was,” he replied.

She caught sight of a well-dressed couple as they entered the gardens by a nearby gate. They waved to her and Erika smiled at them as they approached. “Oh please, you don’t really expect me to believe that you negotiated a major trade agreement on your own, do you? You would need my father and Baron von Rehausen to hold your hand through the whole thing. Don’t feel that you have to lie to me, Christian. As I said, it doesn’t matter. Do what you will. I’m just sorry that I thought