Chapter 39 #2
The flashing is incessant, and the din grows as I offer a hand to her.
Finally, as she straightens, I’m met with those incredible eyes, the ones that haunt me in my dreams and even in my waking hours.
I feel like I’m on a torture rack, being pulled in all different directions, not knowing which way is going to give first, but I don’t care, as long as I can absorb the joy of her presence just one more time.
“Miss Sumner.” Her skin sets my lips on fire as I press a kiss to her hand. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” I try to keep my voice low and steady, but I’m certain she caught the hint of trembling in my tone.
“I, uh, suppose you haven’t heard the news.” She doesn’t look down like she often used to.
“What news is that?”
My cousin slides out from the group of people who had the decency to back away a little, though many are still close enough to eavesdrop.
“Oh, Prince Friedrich,” Trixie says in her fake press voice as she loops her arm through Aurelia’s. “I see you’ve met our Lady Graf.”
“Lady…” I didn’t hear her correctly, right? This is my brain conjuring up what I want to hear. My cousin didn’t just call her—
“The Countess Lady Aurelia Graf has recently joined the ranks of the peerage on the passing of her dear aunt,” Trixie continues as if she’s introducing me to a new member of court, keeping up the ruse for those gathered who are making no attempt at looking like they’re not trying to listen in.
“Perhaps you remember the late Countess Lady Sarah Graf?”
I clear my throat, hoping to make myself sound dignified, and not like I just had all the wind knocked from me.
“I do remember,” I manage, my mind somehow able to conjure up enough sense to play along with my cousin for the benefit of the interlopers.
“I was very sorry to hear of her passing, Lady Graf.”
Aurelia bows her head a fraction. “Thank you, Your Highness.”
I’m trying to remain calm, but I’m screaming on the inside.
I have to get her away from here. I have to talk to her and find out what exactly is going on here.
Most of all, I have to kiss her. I think I might have a stroke if I don’t.
My arm twitches, wanting to reach out and touch her again, but the steady clicks of the cameras are a constant reminder that every move, every word is up for public scrutiny, and I’ve already made quite the spectacle.
“Aurelia, I—” My throat catches, and I’m dangerously close to crying because she’s fucking here and her name is Lady Graf now and oh my fuck what if she still wants me? The sparkle in her eyes is so achingly familiar.
“I was just showing her around the houses of parliament,” my cousin put in, saving me from trying to speak again. “I think I’ll take her by Kipton so I can offer our new Lady Graf a bit of wine while I fill her in on all the latest gossip around here.”
I clear my throat again and swallow hard, trying to will a modicum of moisture to my mouth. “You are kind to do so, Princess Beatrix.” I incline my head to both of them, and they dip into a small bow. “Excuse me, ladies, I’ve already taken up too much of these good people’s time.”
With that, I jog back to the front of the room.
I think I might explode from pure happiness.
All sorts of ideas are scrambling around in my brain.
Images of a future not resigned to a cold arrangement, but filled with Aurelia, mon trésor.
My treasure. And perhaps I’m insane to already be planning my life with her.
She was right before; we’ve only known each other a short time, but in that time, I’ve learned I absolutely cannot live without her.
I don’t even care that I’m about to call this whole press conference off.
I don’t care that the media is going to have a heyday with this.
“May I?” I ask, approaching the podium the king still stands behind.
He steps away, holding his arm out in a go-ahead gesture, pride in his small smile and a hint of mischief sparkling in his eyes.
Turning my back to the room, I squint at him and his placid smirk. “You knew!” I mouth accusingly.
Father simply smiles wider, motioning me back to the waiting press.
The camera hounds haven’t stopped their clicking, but the talk has died down.
I do my best to put my practiced stoic mask back in place, but it’s no use.
Aurelia is mine. Or will be mine. Maybe mine?
I don’t fucking care. She was here, and she’s now Lady Graf, and I have to marry someone from the nobility that she now belongs to.
Let the press see me like this. Let the people see their prince grinning like a goddamn idiot.
“Sorry for the interruption, everyone. And apologies for wasting everyone’s time, but there will be no announcement today other than this. The courtship games are finished, and the future princess is not being revealed today. Thank you for your understanding.”
The press room is pure chaos as I step behind the curtain. I owe these women at the very least a moment of my time. My phone buzzes, and there’s a text from Trixie that simply says RC. Rankten Cottage. God bless my wild, lesbian cousin.
I school my face to a properly contrite expression with some difficulty because I’m still in absolute disbelief. But when I look up to the backstage area, no one is there.
A hand clasps my shoulder, and I turn to my Father again. “What’s going on?”
“I dismissed them this morning,” he says simply. “I learned late last night of your Miss Aurelia’s change in status.”
My stomach is doing some kind of weird tap dance, and I’m glad I couldn’t eat this morning because I think I might be close to throwing up out of pure happiness. Ew, what is wrong with me?
“But how did you know?” I swallow thickly.
His hand tightens. “Son, I have watched you moon and mope and pine over that woman for the last two months.”
“No, I mean, how did you know that she would choose me back?”
Father merely shrugs. “I had a hunch. And also, your cousin was rather convinced that Lady Graf is—I believe the phrase she used was—ass-over-tits in love with you.”
Something between a laugh and a sob chokes out of me as I wrap my father in the tightest embrace I dare in his thin state. “I was in misery this morning,” I mumble into his shoulder.
“And now you are not,” Father declares. “Funny how life works out, hm?”
Pulling back, I’m bolstered by that glimmer of playful trickery on Father’s face that I thought illness had squashed. “I’m still trying to decide whether that set-up was cruel or not.”
The king waves that away. “You know our Trixie can never pass up a chance at a dramatic reveal.”
I snort. Too true.
Father pats me on the shoulder again. “Are you just going to stand here all day, or are you going to go get your woman?”
My face hurts from how wide I’m smiling, laughter bubbling up from my chest as I race out the back door of the press hall and beeline for the side entrance where Brenton is already waiting. There’s only one thought on my mind as we wind through the busy capital streets.
Aurelia is at my house, and she is mine.