Chapter Nine #2
‘But…you didn’t want to know me. You made that very clear when you refused to dance with anyone whose father was less than a viscount.
I am not aristocracy or particularly rich.
I have not had a proper education or débuted as a young lady.
I wouldn’t know the first thing about becoming a princess.
My ambitions are small and ordinary. I have always wanted to marry a kind and cheerful London gentleman.
I prefer the playhouse and balls, not quiet country living.
I am clumsy and emotional and always speak without thinking—as you unfortunately know too well. I would make a terrible princess!’
You would grow to hate me or ignore me, and I could not bear a life of either.
Magnus had listened to her speech without a flicker of emotion. ‘Those are not good enough reasons to reject me. Besides, Thrudheim has plenty of entertainments to offer,’ said Magnus firmly, and he turned back to staring out the window. ‘We will marry. My honour demands it.’
The finality of his statement brooked no further argument, and she realised bleakly that if a prince wished to marry her, there was very little she could do about it.
Selina couldn’t help it: she began to cry.
But they were tears of frustration and humiliation.
Why was she always at the mercy of others’ opinions of her?
A disappointing daughter, an incompetent chaperone and now an unwanted bride.
She was such a stupid, pathetic fool, crying openly after a prince had proposed marriage to her.
Any other woman would be shouting for joy out the carriage window.
But as always, she was unable to stop her emotions from getting the better of her.
What others would view as an extravagant future filled with luxury Selina saw as a gilded cage, a place where she would be left alone to rot.
Her father had loved her mother, had taken her away from a life of poverty and married her, but she’d still been left alone when duty had pulled him away.
If a man loved his honour first, there would be no room left in his heart for her, and what remained would only be despair and loneliness.
She would have even less than her mother, because Magnus, unlike her father, did not and could not love her.
Prince Hans handed her his handkerchief with a kindly smile. ‘Thrudheim isn’t so bad, Miss Mortimer. We have lovely Midsummer and Yule festivals, and the winters aren’t as long or as dark as Iceland’s. We get at least five hours of daylight at Christmas.’
She tried to swallow a wail and buried her face in the handkerchief instead. She knew they thought her ridiculous. But rattling over and over in her mind was the knowledge that she wasn’t wanted and would only be a burden, yet again.
So she allowed herself to weep, just for a moment, to let out her grief and mourn her childish dreams for a happy future.
* * *
Magnus couldn’t help staring at her. The light hit the glass just right on his side of the carriage to allow him a clear reflection of Selina’s face, allowing him to watch her without it being obvious. The only one who might realise it was Hans, and even he wasn’t so stupid as to point it out.
She was obviously distraught at the idea of marrying him, which was more than a little disconcerting.
She wanted a kind and cheerful London gentleman, a life of frivolous entertainment in a city that smelt of its overflowing sewers in the height of summer and rained for the rest of the year.
Miss Selina Mortimer wanted the luxury and fun of a high society life, without an ounce of responsibility.
She was indeed the worst choice he could have made for a bride.
Why, then, could he not stop himself from staring at her?
At the mess of dark curls that framed her face around the peak of her bonnet?
She wore more subdued clothing today, a white muslin gown with little adornment and a drab brown spencer that fitted her bust closely.
Was he an animal? Why could he not control himself in her company? Everything she said and did irritated him, and yet his mind became addled with wicked thoughts if he stared at her for too long.
Why did he insist on protecting her reputation when she had more than once pointed out that he didn’t have to?
The Brief History of Thrudheim lay discarded on the seat beside her. She’d not even bothered to open it, so little interest did she have in learning about his country and his people. He had come to England to find the perfect bride and had picked a woman who sobbed at the idea of leaving London.
But he’d made his choice, and now he had to live with it.
I will have to mould her into the perfect princess. Strict training could accomplish miracles. He knew that because it had worked on him. Of course, he wouldn’t be as brutal as his father, but he would be firm and fair, as he was with his navy-men.
The decision comforted him. Even a woman like Lady Anne would have needed some coaching in her duties and responsibilities. Selina would just need a little more attention to sculpt her into the perfect princess.
The House of Solberg would be difficult to convince, but he’d already accepted that would be the case.
They were a powerful ducal family that would not appreciate their own women being overlooked, especially for an English baronet’s daughter.
But he would have to stress the importance of her admiral father and train Selina well so that they could not argue the match.
However, to do that, he would need to provide Selina with a tempting-enough incentive to encourage her to work hard.
There was no point talking to her about it now, as she was still quietly weeping. But once she’d calmed down and accepted the situation, he would offer her a bribe that would help channel her energies into something more useful.
Thankfully, she didn’t cry for long. If anything she seemed to get annoyed with herself, huffing bad temperedly as she wiped at her eyes.
Helga had cried like that on the day she’d left to meet her unwanted betrothed, a Norwegian man of the Timber Aristocracy, as it was known, for the man wielded power with both Norway and Sweden through timber trade and had at one time been a prince himself.
The 1814 Norwegian constitution had forbidden the creation of all new nobility and entailments.
But powerful and clever men always managed to retain their wealth somehow, and Matthias Falsen was the wealthiest of them all.
With angry, bitter tears of frustration and swollen red eyes, Helga had told Magnus that he was lucky he was a man because he would never suffer in the same way that she would.
Had he condemned another woman to suffer the same fate as his beloved sister? His stomach roiled with disgust.
Breaking his own rule to wait before offering her an incentive, he said softly, ‘Selina.’ This drew her eyes to his, this time not filtered by the shimmer of the window.
Looking directly at her made his confidence falter, but he clenched his jaw with determination.
‘If you do well as my princess, try your hardest to succeed in the training and challenges ahead, and accept your duty as the Princess Consort of Thrudheim…’ Selina looked as if she might start crying again, so he hurried through the next part.
‘If you perform well as my consort, you may spend at least a month of the Season in London. You can live in my Mayfair townhouse—I barely use it. Think on it… You would enjoy all of the entertainments London has to offer as a royal consort, rather than as the companion to a spoilt young lady.’
He thought it a generous offer.
‘One month,’ she grumbled, ‘out of twelve. Only one month am I allowed to do as I wish?’
Why did her eyes water with more tears?
She gave a little nod of grim acceptance and turned to stare out of her own window. He knew there were no similar reflections in hers to admire his face in return. She probably didn’t want to look at him anyway. After speaking with her, all of the light and joy had emptied from her face.
There was more than one way to ruin a woman, he now realised. He only hoped her unhappiness was temporary.