Chapter Eleven
Gabriel had never minded a royal event before, but he’d never had to attend one as part of the royal family. In the past, he’d shown up as a guest, which required almost nothing from him.
Now he was involved in a flurry of events, meetings, debriefings, fittings, plans. Because he was to be an earl. Gabriel tried not to be bitter about such things. If he’d wanted to steer clear of royalty, perhaps he should have kept his pants on.
First, Alexandre had announced the king’s passing and Evelyne’s return. He let the people draw their own conclusions about that and enacted a small, private funeral that was photographed for the Alis papers. No videos were permitted. No public ceremonies were planned.
None of the former king’s citizens protested, though there was some grumbling from the general and his army. Gabriel did not know what Alexandre did to handle it, but it was handled.
And then coronation arrangements went into full force.
The planning was giving Gabriel a headache, and he could only take so many work calls to get himself out of fittings and meetings to go over protocol.
Because it wasn’t just Alexandre’s coronation.
The marriage and Evelyne’s pregnancy would be announced and then Gabriel would also be given his title.
It was to be a day of looking forward to a positive future, so Alexandre and Evelyne said. Gabriel felt mostly dread. With his parents due to arrive tonight, the festivities beginning tomorrow, he did not know what else to feel.
This was not the life he’d planned—which only reinforced the strange notion he hadn’t really had a plan. Work. Be successful. Skate through life without following into the depths of rage and obsession that might otherwise grip him.
Was that a life? He didn’t like to think too hard on that question that lingered.
After ducking out of a protocol meeting to deal with some work, he tried to escape to Evelyne’s room, hoping she would be off with her own meetings and fittings.
But when he strode in, he found she was having a fitting right here. Someone had set up mirrors and one of those awful platforms, and two women were bustling about Evelyne dressed in her royal finery. They pinned this, tutted over that, made notes on little pads of paper.
But Gabriel simply stood and watched her. She looked so regal and at ease. A princess through and through. That tight fist of need centered in his solar plexus. He didn’t know how to fight it. Days and nights with her only seemed to make the band tighter and tighter.
Her gaze met his in the mirror. Her mouth curved like she could read his thoughts, and they pleased her. Did she not understand the ticking time bomb inside him?
“We’ll make these last-minute adjustments, ma’am,” one of the women said as the others began to tidy.
“Thank you, Joan.” The other woman helped her out of the dress.
It looked like it must weigh as much as armor.
Gabriel frowned a bit, wondering if he should intervene.
She should be off her feet more, not worried about these frilly royal events.
One of the attendants helped Evelyne into a robe, and she finally stepped off the platform.
Once finished, the women gave him little bows as they left the room.
Gabriel nodded at them, but his gaze stayed on Evelyne. She belted the robe above the swell of their child.
“Are you hiding from your protocol meeting?” she asked, her smile amused rather than disapproving.
“I do not hide, Evelyne.”
“Of course not,” she agreed, making him want to smile.
He resisted. “Are you sure you should be putting yourself through all of this?”
“I feel fine,” she returned. “I always enjoyed this part of royal life. I know it sounds silly, but when Father was alive, I liked to think of it as a symbol. If I looked royal, then behaved as kindly and charitably to everyone I met, it meant that even though he wasn’t those things, there was some hope.
For anyone who looked at me and saw those things.
” She sighed heavily, looking away from her reflection in the mirror.
“Perhaps Alexandre was right, and we were just complicit, and I like wearing fancy dresses.”
She didn’t look miserable exactly, but he could see just how Alexandre’s words at lunch the other day had disturbed her. Gabriel knew Alexandre carried ridiculous weights on his shoulders that weren’t his, but he hadn’t expected such from Evelyne.
“It’s far more complicated than that, as I think you know,” he told her with some force. “Complicit victims are still victims.”
She looked up at him, a smile on her face. “I’m glad you think so.”
When she looked at him like that, a hint of vulnerability in her happiness, he wanted to say a million things that would cause her to look at him just so. Like he was always her savior.
“I don’t like to think of myself as a victim though. Look around, Gabriel. It was hardly a hardship.”
“Your father beat you.”
She inhaled, held it there for a moment. “Well. Yes.”
“Did you think you deserved it?” he demanded, because the thought she might not know it was just wrong, simply wrong, and no amount of amenities made up for it, filled him with a rage he had no outlet for.
The king was already dead.
“Well, no. I mean…”
“Can you imagine laying a hand to…our child?” He tried to avoid discussing the baby too much, interacting with the idea of a child too much. Whatever securities he could implement to keep himself detached, surface level.
She met his gaze, searching for something. He turned away before she answered.
“No,” she said quietly.
“Then that is all you need to know.” He stared out the window, wished it was the Maine house with the terrace doors and cold whipping wind outside. He’d go stand there and watch the storm and be stilled.
He felt her come to stand next to him. He didn’t dare look at her.
“I suppose your parents never…”
“No. Not once. It never occurred to me that they might. My father’s disappointment held much more weight than any threat he might have given me.”
She tucked her arm into his, leaned her temple against his biceps. “I am excited to meet them. I’m so happy our child might have one decent set of grandparents.”
They would be that. Gabriel hadn’t spoken to them much. They were overjoyed—not so much at the royal side of things, but that he’d met a nice woman and settled down—their words.
They did not know about Gia, about what was inside him. They did not know obsession could turn to violence. That every step of loving Evelyne and their child was a chance he’d become his own version of King Enzo and his parade of destruction.
So they only saw the positive. Gabriel was glad for it, but it made him dread their arrival more than look forward to it as he might have otherwise.
Gabriel left her, but his words, his assurances didn’t. It was a comfort that he didn’t try to undermine the abuse. Alexandre didn’t do it on purpose, but sometimes she thought since he considered it his due, he considered it hers as well.
Which wasn’t fair. Alex had protected her and spared her as much as he could. She knew one of the weights on his shoulders was that he had not done more, but sometimes it felt like he thought of her like…another country he had failed.
Rather than a sister he had done his level best to protect.
She sighed a little wistfully. Perhaps she could convince Gabriel to have the same talk with Alexandre that he’d just had with her. Perhaps Gabriel could get through to him and allow him to realize that no amount of abuse was their due.
She patted her stomach. “And that, my sweet baby, is just the kind of man your father is. For all his faults.”
She should start getting ready for dinner. She was eager to meet Gabriel’s parents, as he spoke so highly of them, but she was tired and achy and procrastinating.
When the room phone rang, she thought about ignoring it, but guilt and responsibility were too much to ignore it. “Hello.”
“Your Highness, Mrs. Marti has requested an audience before dinner. I have her in your sitting room, but I can tell her you are not ready for visitors if you prefer.”
Evelyne sat up in her bed. Gabriel’s mother wanted an audience before dinner. Without Gabriel? Nerves danced around her chest. But she could hardly say no. “I’ll…be there momentarily.”
She moved out of bed quickly. Luckily she’d already picked out the dress she’d wear for dinner. Since tomorrow would be full of formality, it was far simpler. And comfortable. She hurried through getting dressed and took enough time to brush out her hair and make up her face a bit.
Once ready, nerves battling around inside her, Evelyne forced herself to enter her sitting room. She was a princess. She was incredibly used to walking into meetings with people she didn’t know what to expect from.
But she had never wanted to impress someone so much as she wanted to impress Gabriel’s mother. She couldn’t help but think that would go a long way in…something.
When she entered, Mrs. Marti stood and curtseyed prettily, making Evelyne feel a bit awkward even though she’d been curtseyed to often in her life.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Evelyne offered, plastering a tight smile on her face and walking over to Gabriel’s mother. She was a small woman, trim, her dress a beautiful plum that surely made her look younger than she was.
“A pregnant woman never need apologize for that.” She crossed to Evelyne. Took her hands. Her smile was wide and welcoming, and there was an array of emotions in her expression Evelyne couldn’t all parse, but she recognized them as happy ones.
“He has your eyes,” Evelyne blurted out, then felt heat creep up her cheeks. What a silly thing to say.
But Mrs. Marti beamed. “Yes. My eyes and temper. Hopefully the baby will escape the temper part.” Before Evelyne could think about temper and Gabriel, his mother continued. “You are looking lovely, Your Highness. You probably do not remember when we met before.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize we had.”