Marilyn Pappano - Romancing The Crown - Lorenzo and Anna - The Man Who Would Be King / The Princess And The Mercenary

Grabbing a couple of menus, she rushed them over to a booth next to the window, apologizing all the while and promising Lorenzo that he was going to have the best breakfast he’d ever eaten. “Your waitress will be right with you. Just ask for the special, and I promise you won’t regret it.”

Gracious, Lorenzo thanked her, his smile never wavering, but Eliza was starting to recognize that particular look on his face. He already had regrets, and she didn’t doubt that if he had it all to do over again, he would have gone through a McDonald’s drive-thru. As it was, just about everyone in the place was shooting him covert glances and whispering among themselves, and it was obvious that they, too, had seen the morning paper.

Coming to the same conclusion, Lorenzo swore softly, his expression grim. “I was afraid of this. It’s that damn picture! How the hell am I going to conduct a search when the whole world is watching and offering their opinion?”

He didn’t, thankfully, blame her, but Eliza wouldn’t have blamed him if he had. If it hadn’t been for her and her overzealous boss, he could have been well into the search and might have even found the prince before anyone knew what he was about.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly as soon as they’d given their order to the blushing young woman who rushed forward to wait on them and deliver two steaming cups of coffee to their table. “The damage is done. It won’t do any good to retract the story—people have already seen your picture. They’re going to recognize you unless you grow a beard or something. Of course, that takes time. It won’t do you any good now.”

In the process of stirring cream into his coffee, he glanced up sharply. “What did you say?”

Surprised, she blinked. “About what? The beard? It’s not going to do you any good today.”

“No,” he said thoughtfully, “but a disguise isn’t a bad idea. I’ll change my clothes, put on some sunglasses, even wear a hat. How do you think I’d look with a cowboy hat? I could get some jeans and boots and pass myself off as a cowboy.”

If he hadn’t been so serious, Eliza would have laughed at the very suggestion that Duke Lorenzo Sebastiani pass himself off as a cowboy. He looked and dressed like he’d just stepped out of the pages of GQ . She didn’t care what he wore, it wasn’t going to change the sophistication that was as much a part of him as the green of his eyes.

“I don’t know,” she said doubtfully. “Cowboys are a pretty rugged lot. It’s more than just the clothes.”

“Are you saying I’m not rugged?”

Put on the spot, she said, “No!” But then she immediately changed her mind. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. You’re a duke, for heaven’s sake! Dukes and cowboys are as different as day and night.”

Lorenzo appreciated her honesty, but his title had been granted to him by the king in appreciation of his military service for Montebello. Just because he’d been raised by Marcus and Gwendolyn after his parents died and the palace had become his home didn’t mean he was some kind of pampered royal who was afraid to get his hands dirty. He hadn’t received any special treatment when he was in the military; he’d carried his own weight.

“We’ll see,” he said as the waitress arrived with a breakfast fit for a king. “You just might be surprised.”

She had her doubts and she didn’t make any effort to hide them, but Lorenzo wasn’t worried. Digging into the ham and eggs and hashbrowns he’d ordered, he could already see himself dressed as a cowboy. A slow grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. His mission was a serious one, but he had to admit, this was going to be fun.

“The mall is the other direction,” Eliza told him thirty minutes later when he pulled out of the diner parking lot and turned left. “I thought you wanted to get some western clothes.”

“I do,” he said. But instead of turning around, he drove slowly down the street, reading the signs of every business they passed. “Here we go,” he said suddenly, grinning as he turned into the parking lot of a used-clothing store.

Eliza took one look at it and said, “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, ye of little faith,” he teased, and got out to open her car door for her.

The shop was everything he’d hoped it would be. Crowded and musty, it was packed full of everything from used Levi’s jeans to old prom dresses from the fifties. And somewhere in all those old castoffs was his disguise.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this,” Eliza said when he moved to a rack of used jeans and started going through them. “I thought you’d buy something new.”

“And look like a drugstore cowboy? I don’t think so. I want to look like the average John Wayne on the street, and I can’t do that in new clothes.” Glancing up from the jeans he was checking out, he arched a brow when he saw her smile. “What’s so funny?”

“There was nothing average about John Wayne. That’s why he was John Wayne.”

He couldn’t disagree with that. “Okay, poor choice. Let’s try for a hired hand who doesn’t have two nickels to rub together. That means I need worn jeans and faded shirts that are frayed at the cuffs.”

“And something to drive around in besides a brand-new Tahoe SUV,” she pointed out dryly. “It doesn’t fit the image.”

“Good point,” he replied. “We’ll take care of that later. Right now, let’s work on the clothes.”

With her help, it didn’t take long to find exactly what he was looking for. The shop even had an old, scuffed pair of cowboy boots that were just his size. When Eliza looked aghast at the idea of him wearing someone else’s used boots, he laughed. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to ruin my feet. I just want to see how they look.”

He disappeared into the small dressing area, only to emerge a few minutes later in his disguise. Settling the used and abused black Stetson hat he’d picked out on his head, he opened the dressing room door to find Eliza waiting for him outside. “Well?” he asked, spreading his arms wide. “What do you think?”

Stunned, she blinked, wide-eyed. “I don’t believe it.”

She’d always heard that the clothes made the man, but she’d never quite understood what the phrase meant until now. She’d covered the Sebastianis for years in her column, and during that time, she must have seen dozens of photos of Lorenzo in his military uniform tuxedos, and suits that came right out of Saville Row. And in each of those pictures, he’d always looked every inch the duke.

There was no sign of that man now. She didn’t know how he’d done it, but even his posture had changed. With the scarred cowboy hat set low on his head, concealing his sandy-brown hair, the pointed old boots on his feet and the faded clothes molding his lean body, he looked like he’d just walked in off the range.

“Incredible,” she said, amazed. “I never would have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own two eyes.”

Pleased, he grinned and tipped his hat back slightly, and just that easily, he changed the image again. He still looked like a hardworking cowboy, but now he had the look of a rogue, a flirt. With nothing more than a crooked grin, he set Eliza’s heart pounding.

Shocked, she pressed a hand to her heart before she realized it, drawing a curious look from Lorenzo. “Are you all right?” he asked with a sudden frown. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she said quickly, and blushed to the roots of her hair. “You just surprised me. I never thought you’d be able to pull it off.”

“I told you I could,” he said with another grin that made her heart trip. “Now, what about you?”

She blinked. “I beg your pardon?”