she had promised herself when she planned this venture.
The Duke's carriage was extremely grand, with a coat of arms on the sides, and two men on the box wearing the Camborne livery.
As they travelled along Piccadilly Ola looked eagerly out of the windows at the crowds thronging the street. So many lights. So much bustle and excitement. After her dull life this was like stepping into a dream.
"It's so thrilling," she murmured.
"But surely the capital city of Oltenitza is much the same?" enquired the Duke.
She saw the pit at her feet and quickly avoided it.
"No capital is the same as London," she declared. "Everyone knows that it is the biggest, brightest city in the world. It has art, science, music, theatre. My own little capital is a village by comparison."
She hoped he would not ask what her 'little capital' was called, because for the moment her inspiration had dried up. Luckily he did not pursue the subject.
"I will admit that London is at its best just now," he agreed, "putting on its finest feathers to impress visitors. But I like it at other times too, when it's just itself. Tonight I'm not taking you to one of the big, glittering restaurants, but a small one, in a side street, where only really knowledgeable people go.
"We can be very private, unless of course you would feel nervous about that. Would it be more proper if there were many people around, watching us."
Ola gave a merry little laugh. "But sir, it's well known that all English gentlemen are honourable. What could I have to fear?"
"I suppose even an English gentleman might get carried away by his feelings?" he said lightly.
"But what feelings? We have only just met," she teased him. "I know I have nothing to fear."
In saying this she knew she was slightly avoiding the truth. They might have only just met, but she was already in danger of being carried away by her own feelings, and very much hoped that he was too.
At last the carriage stopped in a narrow street, with poor lighting. Heads turned as the footman jumped down to open the door, bowing as she stepped down.
At first she thought the restaurant was no different to the rustic places in villages around her home, but then the Duke led her through the building and to a garden at the rear, hung with fairy lamps.
"Oh, how beautiful," Ola exclaimed.
Their table was under the trees, in view of the other diners, but sufficiently apart that she could almost feel that they were alone. As they walked together she knew that people were looking at them and thinking what a splendid couple they made.
'And we do,' she thought. 'Oh, if only this could go on forever!'
When he asked her what she liked to eat, she replied that she would leave everything to him. He spoke to the head waiter in strong, masterful accents, and ordered a bottle of the best champagne.
"To toast our meeting," he said.
Ola had never tasted champagne before, and she thought she had gone to paradise. But real paradise was the smile in his eyes as they met hers over the rim of the glass.
"Your Royal Highness," he said.
"You mustn't call me that. Someone might hear."
"What shall I call you?" he asked.
"Ola."
"Not Relola?"
"I prefer Ola from my friends. But now you must tell me your name."
"John," he said. "John Sedgewick, Duke of Camborne."
"Is that all?" she laughed. "Don't English Dukes always have lots of titles?"
"How well informed you are. Viscount Allan lee, Baron Frensham, Baron Lockton, and some others that I can't remember. And you? I'm sure you have a host of minor titles too."
"Of course, but I can never remember even one or two of mine. I think I forget them on purpose. They make me forget about who I really am inside."
"And who is that?"
She shook her head.
"I don't know. I'm still trying to discover. It may take a long time."
A sudden alert look came into his eyes.
"Do you feel like that too?" he asked.
"Oh yes. You also, it seems."
He nodded, still looking at her as though trying to discover