Just figures I've fallen for the one guy I can't have.
A) He's an Earl's son - heir to a royal empire.
B) He's engaged - to a duchess.
C) Who am I kidding?
But there's something between us . . .
And, um, the duchess knows it.
Elizabeth. His family's kitchen maid!
An American on the outskirts of London. A girl with dough under her nails and tomato-sauce stains on her uniform. A girl whose warmth and compassion and kindness radiated from her sweet face.
A girl who Max couldn't stop thinking about.
It was ironic. At Max's side sat the girl who history, family, and - if you believed his father - destiny had provided for him. Max flicked his eyes at his finacee. With her swanlike neck and porcelain complexion, Lavinia was inarguably beautiful. She was also, Max knew very well, cultured, inteeligent, witty, and - by any measure - a good catch.
But she left him cold.
You've got to face the fact that you've got a monster crush on the scullery maid, mate, Max thought, restraining himself from groaning aloud. As much as he wanted to pretend it wasn't happening, the fact was that his affections - and admiration - for Elizabeth were only growing by the day.
And so was the countdown to his wedding.