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meandering tales, she thought, cocking her head as she eavesdropped. She never would have believed so famous a rake could have a kind heart. She felt almost guilty for robbing him.
    When Maria came bustling past her to bring the men wine, Dani dove behind the corner of the wall so she would not be seen when the housekeeper opened the salon door. Fortunately, the woman had also managed to bundle Grandfather into his dressing gown so he looked slightly less ridiculous.
    “My lady, you are being rude. It is the crown prince ,” Maria hissed, frowning at her.
    “I don’t care if he’s Saint Peter, I’m not going near him!” she whispered, frantically beckoning the old servant in alone. Maria cast a long-suffering glance heavenward, pushed the door open with her meaty hip, and went in.
    Dani sank against the wall, her pulse racing, her wounded arm throbbing. She told herself the reason she stayed away was for fear that he might begin to suspect the truth, but even as she clung to this excuse, she knew it was a lie. The fact was, he was gorgeous and fascinating and she was poor and unsophisticated and desperately shy. She knew he only sat with her grandfather out of compassion, but her pride could not bear it if he turned his pity next on her.
    Eventually, however, she could not stand her curiosity any longer. Sidling into the room yet hanging back like a cautious but hungry alley cat, she ventured into the salon, her feelings in a tumult of guilt, worry, excitement, and animosity.
    “And here is my granddaughter, Your Highness,” the duke said with a wreath of smiles. “Daniela.”
    Prince Rafael rose and smoothly bowed to her. “My lady.”
    Feeling instantly put on the spot, she managed to curtsy. “Your Highness. Please, do sit.”
    As he nodded politely, swept back the tails of his coat, and sat, crossing his legs in a pose of cool, masculine elegance, she had to shake herself out of a stare. Silently, she went over to the slipper chair and lowered herself into it, her heart beating rapidly.
    Grandfather looked from her to Prince Rafael with a twinkle in his rheumy eyes. “What do you think of her, Rafe?”
    “Grandfather!” Dani gasped.
    The prince blinked. His startled look vanished. “Well, I don’t know anything about her, I’m afraid.”
    “Then I shall tell you a few things about my Daniela, since she is too shy to tell you herself.”
    “Grandfather!” Surely she was going to fall out of the chair and expire on the spot of mortification.
    The prince’s eyes danced in the candlelight as he regarded her in mischievous amusement.
    If only he were a little less beautiful, perhaps she might be a little less agonized.
    “Do go on,” he said.
    “Daniela has been looking after me since she was nine years old, after the nuns tossed her out of the fourth school we had sent her to.”
    “It was only the third, Grandfather. I’m sure His Highness is not interested in this!”
    “No, please. I’m all ears,” he said, plainly amused at her discomfort.
    “Daniela received an education more befitting a lad, you see. That is why she isn’t tedious to be around, like so many of her sex. When other little ladies were learning how to do needlepoint, she was learning how to mix gunpowder. I taught her myself,” he added proudly.
    “After Grandfather retired from the artillery, he took up making the fireworks displays for some of the local festivals,” she hastily explained to the prince before he began to suspect anything involving gunpowder.
    “Why, my Daniela could ride her pony standing astride its back when she was barely ten!” Grandfather went on.
    “Astonishing,” the prince exclaimed lightly.
    Dani dropped her head, her cheeks flaming.
    “I’m not embarrassing you, am I, my dear?” Grandfather asked, lifting his bushy white eyebrows. “Dear me, perhaps I’ve said enough.”
    “I should think so,” she said, shooting Grandfather a scolding look.
    He gave her a wide smile of childlike