Dukes to the Left of Me, Princes to the Right Read Online Free PDF Page A

Beatrice.
    Before she could open her mouth to tell them what had transpired between her and the princess, Beatrice said, “We saw.”
    “She’s wicked,” Eleanor added.
    “But Sergei’s not,” Poppy insisted. “Every family has its bad apples, don’t they?”
    But Beatrice and Eleanor had stopped listening. They were looking over her shoulder.
    “There he is.” Eleanor gasped.
    “Good heavens,” said Beatrice. “I see what you mean. He’s—”
    “Perfect,” breathed Eleanor. “No wonder you’ve been fobbing off all your suitors.”
    Poppy turned and looked at the man standing at the top of the stairs. Her heart swelled with happiness.
    Sergei!
    He was older, of course. But he’d only grown handsomer. The memories of her romantic week with him in St. Petersburg came flooding back.
    “Gracious, he’s staring right at you,” said petite Eleanor, her masses of strawberry-blonde hair highlighted by the glow of hundreds of candles in the double chandeliers overhead.
    Beatrice, gorgeous as always with her luminous brown eyes and her rich, dark hair pulled back in a sleek knot, squeezed Poppy’s hand. “He’d be lucky to have you,” she said firmly. “Remember that.”
    “If you’re meant to be, we’ll find out together,” added Eleanor.
    “Thanks.” Poppy felt a lump in her throat. “I’m so glad I have you two.”
    Without another word, the three of them overlapped their hands. “Hell will freeze over,” they recited in whispers, “before we—”
    “Give up our passions,” said Beatrice.
    “And give in to our parents,” murmured Poppy.
    “To marry men we don’t love,” added Eleanor.
    Whereupon they released their hands and said together, “The Spinsters Club? Never heard of it,” as Eleanor gave a delicate yawn, Beatrice sipped from a glass of ratafia, and Poppy fiddled with a curl on her shoulder.
    She usually felt exhilarated after saying the pledge. Stronger and braver, too. Because no matter what Papa said about women knowing their places and marriage being a business arrangement, she wasn’t going to marry a man who didn’t have her heart in his full possession. She’d far rather be a Spinster—a Spinster with very good friends in the same predicament—than succumb to such a fate.
    The prince made eye contact with her and grinned, and Poppy felt her whole insides light up. She couldn’t help it—she grinned back.
    He remembered her .
    He headed her way with a small entourage. Poppy schooled herself to be calm, and she prayed she’d say the right thing.
    Once in front of her, the prince raised her hand and kissed it, just as he had the first time he’d met her six years ago.
    “Poppy. It is you.” He stared deep into her eyes, and her knees trembled. “What a fantastic surprise to see my little English friend all grown up.”
    “H-hello, Sergei.” She drew in a breath. “I mean, Your Highness.”
    He threw back his head and laughed. “Don’t dare call me that. I am always Sergei to you, and I would like you to introduce me to your friends as Sergei.”
    What a gracious royal he is, Poppy thought, as he paid his respects to Beatrice and Eleanor. They were charming, witty, and sincere in their enthusiasm about the prince’s visit to London. She couldn’t have been more proud to call them her best friends.
    The prince was impressed by them, as well. “I see, Lady Poppy, you’ve been in delightful company since I saw you last. My own friends would be honored to dance with them.” Indeed, two very distinguished Russian aristocrats had already bent low over the other Spinsters’ hands.
    Which meant Poppy could abandon herself to the enjoyment of the evening. She did just that when Sergei took her hand and wrapped it under his arm.
    “There are few things in the world more intimidating than a roomful of curious people,” he said. “Best to face them down first and let the other gentlemen in the room know what’s what. And then we shall dance.”
    What’s