But he was a Devonshire and a member of the British royal family and there were times when he simply couldn’t decline. At least the William Kent Room at the Ritz was an exquisite venue. His date for this evening was Mary Werner, the daughter of a billionaire office supplies executive. She was a suitable girl and would make him a proper wife, if that’s what he was after. He knew that her family probably expected a proposal soon. His half sisters—Gemma and Caroline, who were twenty-three and twenty-one respectively—called her his maiden bride. He pretended to growl at them for it but he knew they were right. Mary, as lovely as she was, was a bit too tame for him. There was a spate of camera shutters clicking at the entrance to the ballroom. He glanced over his shoulder to see Amelia Munroe smiling for the photographers. She wore a bright red sheath, which hugged her generous curves, and held a small dog in one arm. The animal yipped whenever a flash went off. There was a lull in every conversation in the room as all heads turned toward her.
