I shrugged. “Why not?”
“For this particular discussion, I think we need someone with more experience with men than we have.” Marianne glanced at me. “Who would you suggest?”
“When you say more experience with men,” I said slowly. “What exactly do you mean?”
Gillian choked on her tea.
Pandora raised a brow. “Come now.”
Jocelyn snorted. “I should think you of all people would know exactly what we mean.”
“Yeah, well, I just wanted to make sure I didn’t misunderstand,” I muttered. “It’s kind of a problem though. With the exception of a couple of widows, none of my heroines have much more experience than you all do.”
“None of your heroines perhaps…” Pandora studied me curiously. “Is this gathering of yours exclusive, then?”
Huh? “Exclusive?”
“Limited to main characters,” Pandora said. “To the heroines of your stories, I mean.”
“Not really.” I thought for a moment. “It just seems to have worked out that way. Probably because I know you all better than other characters.”
“So you could invite oh, say, secondary characters if you wished?” Gillian said cautiously.
Jocelyn raised a brow. “Secondary characters? Minor characters? Surely not.”
Gillian and Marianne traded glances. “Jocelyn,” Marianne said in a firm, older sister voice. “There’s nothing wrong with secondary characters or even minor characters.”
“I suppose not.” Jocelyn rolled her gaze toward my less than impressive ceiling. “Still, Becky was a secondary character and in spite of the fact that we all love her dearly and she was in four books, she didn’t have sufficient substance to remain—”
“Solid?” Pandora suggested.
“Yes, well, Becky might have been somewhat two-dimensional,” Marianne said with a sigh. Obviously no one wanted to admit their own sister was less than fully fleshed out. “Still, most secondary characters are quite delightful.”
“Especially the men.” Gillian nudged Marianne. “Your husband—my brother—was originally a minor character and he turned out quite well.”
“Indeed he did.” Marianne nodded and aimed a pointed look at Jocelyn. “As did yours.”
“That’s an entirely different matter.” Jocelyn raised a dismissive shoulder. “Even as a minor character, my husband had a great deal of potential.”
“As interesting as those characters may be, this is a female gathering.” Pandora looked at me. “Isn’t it?”
“Absolutely,” Marianne said firmly.
“Without question,” Gillian added. “We certainly can’t speak freely about them if they’re present.”
“Good.” I breathed a sigh of relief.
I was having enough problems handling my heroines without trying to cope as well with the delicious heroes I create. And when I say delicious, I say it without apology. These guys—these heroes—are very much my fantasy. They’re not perfect, of course; even my fantasies don’t run to perfection. What would be the fun in that? But they are generally trainable and willing to, eventually, admit when they’re wrong. See? Pure fantasy. But as much as I love my heroes, I adore my secondary male characters. They’re even more fun because they don’t have to be worthy of a heroine. They can be delightfully wicked and thoroughly naughty without being the least bit redeemable or repentant. Ya gotta love that in an imaginary man.
“Why don’t you invite that wicked princess of yours?” Gillian said with a casual wave of her hand, as if having wicked princesses to tea was a perfectly ordinary, every day sort of thing to do. Although I suppose it was no more unusual than having imaginary characters for tea in the first place.
“What a wonderful idea.” Pandora’s eyes glittered with delight. “Now there’s a woman who no doubt has had a great deal of experience with men.”
Jocelyn gasped. “I can’t believe you would suggest such a thing. She is a wicked, wicked person.”
“But I believe she has reformed, dear.” Marianne turned toward me. “You did reform her, didn’t you?”
“More or less,” I said, and sounded evasive even to myself.
The reformation of the Princess Valentina Pruzinsky of the fictitious Kingdom of Greater Avalonia had been accomplished somewhat reluctantly on her part when she had lost everything, including her country, and therefore any claim to the throne. When she had nothing left except cousins who neither liked nor trusted her, she’d really had little choice but to change her ways.
“But wicked or not, she is a princess,” Gillian said thoughtfully. “Do you think she will come on such short notice?”
“She’s rather offended she wasn’t included in the first place,” an imperious voice rang in the air as the Princess Valentina Pruzinsky snapped into view, seated in the chair vacated by Elizabeth. She appeared instantly, and just like the picture on my aging TV might have looked, a tiny bit blue. “On the other hand”—she glanced around the gathering—“I’ve never been one for tea with the ladies. And this is such a well behaved little group.”
“If by well behaved you mean we’ve never tried to kill relatives or overthrow a government to seize a throne for ourselves.” Jocelyn crossed her arms over her chest. “Then yes, I would say we are.”
Valentina sniffed. “And boring as well.” She glanced around my living room and raised a haughty brow. “This is where you live?”
“Yep, this is it,” I said with a forced smile. “I know it’s not up to your standards.”
“My dear Victoria, it’s not up to anyone’s standards. Although, I suppose…” Valentina gestured in a casual manner. “Different times and all that. This is quite like visiting a foreign country, so one should make allowances.”
Pandora choked back a laugh. “She has reformed.”
“Not willingly and with any luck at all”—Valentina’s sharp gaze met mine—“not permanently?”
“Permanently,” I said firmly.
“Then perhaps I should have my own book.” A wicked light gleamed in Valentina’s eyes. “I would make an extraordinary heroine.”
“Extraordinary isn’t the word I would use,” I said under my breath.
“You could never be a heroine,” Jocelyn said in a lofty manner, and I cringed.
“Because of my past? All that nonsense about murderous tendencies and fomenting revolution?” Valentina accepted a cup of tea from Marianne.
“Not to mention the men,” Marianne said with a pleasant smile. “You’ve been rather busy, you know.”
Valentina shrugged. “I like men.”
“You’ve had how many husbands?” Gillian asked casually.
Valentina studied her. “No more than you. Only two.”
“Both of whom died suspiciously within a year of their marriage,” Jocelyn said darkly.
“Only if you believe gossip born of jealousy. There is nothing at all suspicious in the deaths of men well past their prime. Especially when they have the arrogance to marry a woman less than half their age.” Valentina smiled in a deceptively pleasant manner. “They did, however, die happy.”
“How many lovers have you had then?” Gillian leaned forward eagerly.
Valentina raised a brow. “For fun or profit?
“Either,” Pandora said, then grinned. “Or both.”
“And do feel free to be specific as to”—Marianne bit back a smile—“everything?”
I couldn’t believe my ears. Here were my heroines, my well behaved, happily married, one-man per-customer heroines practically drooling at the thought of the amorous exploits of one of my wickedest—if now reformed—secondary characters. Although I suppose, when I thought about it, I had written them this way. Not one of them was the least bit hesitant when it came to sex. In fact, three of them had been what I referred to as eager virgins.
“Marianne!” Shock sounded in Jocelyn’s voice. “I can’t believe you of all people are encouraging this…this creature who, reformation or not, has al
ways used men for her own plea sure or her own nefarious or mercenary purposes without regards to affection or love or even simple courtesy.”
“Apparently you are not as well behaved as I thought.” Valentina’s eyes narrowed and focused on Jocelyn. “Might I point out that for much of your life, you had planned to marry well, for profit as it were. I believe you had your sights set on a prince. That sounds exceptionally mercenary to me.”
“One might look at it that way I suppose,” Jocelyn muttered.
“And you.” Valentina turned toward Gillian. “You needed to marry to gain an inheritance and selected a man based on little more than his need for money. I would call that both mercenary and nefarious.”
Gillian winced. “When you put it that way…perhaps.”
“You.” Valentina met Pandora’s gaze. “You made a highly improper wager with a man with marriage as the prize—”
“Yes, yes.” Pandora waved off Valentina’s comments. “I know precisely what I’ve done, although I would not term it either mercenary or nefarious.”
“Perhaps not, but an overabundance of pride certainly entered into it. And pride, I believe, is a sin.” Valentina’s gaze met Marianne’s. “We all play games with men for one reason or another wouldn’t you agree?”
“I daresay I would. I would further say…” Marianne smiled slowly. “Each and every one of us quite enjoys it.”
“Then we have far more in common than might at first be suspected.” Valentina nodded in my direction. “How very clever of you.”
“It’s nothing,” I said modestly. I’d be more than happy to take credit, but the fact was, what ever similarities of nature there were between these determined characters had more to do with their own story evolution than any concerted effort on my part. Still, just like my characters, I do so hate to admit not being entirely in control. Especially of my own creations.
“Now then.” Valentina sipped her tea, her gaze sliding around the circle of women as she smiled in a pleasant manner. “What else did you want to know about men?”
To be continued…
About the Author
VICTORIA ALEXANDER was an award-winning television reporter until she discovered fiction was much more fun than real life. She turned to writing full time and has never looked back.
Victoria grew up traveling the country as an Air Force brat and is now settled in Omaha, Nebraska, with her husband, two teenaged children, and a bearded collie named Sam. She firmly believes housework is a four-letter word, there are no calories in anything eaten standing up, procrastination is an art form, and it’s never too soon to panic.
And she loves getting mail that doesn’t require a return payment. Write to her at P.O. Box 31544, Omaha, NE 68131.
www.eclectics.com/victoria
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By Victoria Alexander
WHAT A LADY WANTS
A LITTLE BIT WICKED
LET IT BE LOVE
WHEN WE MEET AGAIN
A VISIT FROM SIR NICHOLAS
THE PURSUIT OF MARRIAGE
THE LADY IN QUESTION
LOVE WITH THE PROPER HUSBAND
HER HIGHNESS, MY WIFE
THE PRINCE’S BRIDE
THE MARRIAGE LESSON
THE HUSBAND LIST
THE WEDDING BARGAIN
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
WHAT A LADY WANTS. Copyright © 2007 by Cheryl Griffin. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
ePub edition © January 2007 ISBN: 9780061796067
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