Chapter 4
four
I’ve not met one useful man since Papa died. Well, maybe one, but he doesn’t deserve mention in my diary anymore, even though he saved me from the Creepy Sneezer. ~ Gen’s diary
GENEVIEVE
What was he doing here?
Gen glared as the prince and his sister entered the room and they all bowed and curtsied as they passed.
Sam had told her the royals had been invited, but they were always invited to everything; that didn’t mean they actually came.
Yet here he was. Ruining all her plans. Again.
When the royals took a seat near Sam’s father, Sam grabbed Gen’s arm and led her away to a corner.
“The prince looks perfect, doesn’t he?”
“What he looks like and what he is are two different things.”
Sam quirked an eyebrow. “That’s deep. And also bullshit. I think you like him.”
“That’s bullshit.”
Sam laughed. “Well, I think he likes you.”
Gen quickly glanced around. “Bite your tongue. My mother could overhear you.”
“She’s too busy trying to get close to the royals.”
Sam nodded in that direction and Gen saw her mother slowly moving towards them, chatting with various people along the way to make it seem natural.
“Besides, I warned the prince about your mother.”
Gen was busy focusing on her mother that it took a few seconds for her brain to catch up with Sam’s bombshell statement. She turned to her, mouth open. “What? What do you mean?”
Sam just shrugged, annoyingly nonchalant. “The prince and I had our dance after yours at the ball, and we got to talking. About you, actually.”
Gen’s voice came out as a screech. “What?” She glanced around to make sure no one had heard her, and then said in a lower voice, “What did you say?”
For a moment, Sam dropped the facade and grabbed Gen by both arms. “Don’t throw away this chance, Gen. Fuck your mother. Fuck what she wants. I think he really likes you and could make you happy.”
“In what universe? You don’t even know him. Sam—”
“Maybe I don’t but it won’t hurt to just give him a chance. If it doesn’t work out, it doesn’t work out. No big deal. But,” Sam leaned closer, “if it did work out, you would hold more power than your mother. And you’d do it with a man who actually likes you.”
“Sam…”
“You can still work the room, talk to other men. But give him a chance too.”
Gen glanced over Sam’s shoulder and watched the prince. He was perfect in public—perfect posture, perfect words, and, though she wasn’t close enough to hear it, he must have been saying the perfect things too.
She thought of a life with him and what that would mean…and saw only a more gilded prison than the one she had now. Her mother controlled everything she did now and wasn’t exactly nice about it. Becoming a princess and all the added pressure that would take…she wanted no part of it.
Gen sighed. “No, Sam. I hear what you’re saying. Having power over my mother would be nice. But I can’t. I just…can’t. It would be just as suffocating as my life now, maybe more so. I can’t do it.”
Sam sighed but nodded. “All right. I support you and whatever you want, even when you’re being an idiot.” She kissed her cheek, placed her ‘demure party smile’ on her face and walked to her parents. She curtsied to the royals again and took a place by her mother at the princess’s side.
No, that place wasn’t meant for Gen.
She took a deep breath, glanced around the room, and picked her next target.
GAbrIEL
He was sick of other men. He couldn’t say he’d had this feeling before, but he had it now, especially when he watched one man after another invading Genevieve’s personal space.
“Your Highnesses, may I present Mrs. Ruffin?”
Gabriel turned his attention away from Genevieve to focus on her mother. After Agnes greeted her, he did the same.
Glancing at the elder Kaurs, both had placid smiles, but their bodies were tense.
He glanced over at Miss Kaur, who merely raised a brow as if to say ‘I told you she was difficult’.
Meanwhile, the woman in question had started talking and didn’t seem to want to stop.
“My dear late husband, Peter, was a staunch supporter of His Majesty. And he would no doubt be a supporter of you as well, Your Highness, had he lived. Of course, our whole family, including my daughters support you. My eldest, Genevieve, is here tonight, of course. You must remember her, as you danced with her at the ball, Your Highness. I’m sure—”
Gabriel adjusted his jacket, tapping elbows with his sister. Though others might think it was an accident, she knew it was on purpose and why; he couldn’t interrupt a woman without seeming rude, but his sister could interrupt her and it wouldn’t be considered impolite.
“Were you at the ball, Mrs. Ruffin?” Agnes interrupted.
“—I know that had he lived, he would only be too happy—I beg your pardon?” Mrs. Ruffin blinked several times as the conversation around them lowered to a hush.
Agnes merely smiled politely and repeated herself. “Were you at the ball, Mrs. Ruffin?”
“Oh.” Mrs. Ruffin put a hand to her chest as her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “Oh, I do beg your pardon, Your Highnesses. I certainly didn’t mean to speak over you. I most sincerely apologize. I only—”
“Perhaps,” Mrs. Kaur spoke up over Mrs. Ruffin’s incessant apologies, “Helen, you should—er, succinctly—answer Her Highness’s question.”
Mrs. Ruffin blinked several times, then nodded with a broad smile. “Yes, of course. I was not at the ball, unfortunately. Though I do so love them. My daughter attended in my place, as you know, Your Highness.”
And now the woman’s attention was back on him. Gabriel wouldn’t mind it if it spared Agnes, but he was growing ever so weary of her. How did Genevieve manage this on a daily basis?
Mrs. Ruffin continued speaking, not catching any of the hints thus far that perhaps she should stop for air. “You had a lovely dance together, I understand. She told me how much she enjoyed it. Oh! Here she is now.”
They all glanced around and saw Genevieve approaching.
To everyone else, her face sported a serene smile but Gabriel saw the truth.
Having danced with her and seen her displeasure up close, he saw it now in the way her hands were tensed tightly, one hand around the stem of her wineglass, and the other lifting up her dress slightly, allowing her to move more smoothly.
Gabriel also caught a glimpse of her shiny silver shoes. He couldn’t say he was a ‘feet’ man, but he suddenly had a vision of taking off those shoes and kissing his way up, starting at her feet, and moving up her leg to—
“Your Highnesses.” Genevieve curtsied to him, then to his sister. “It’s a pleasure to see you both again. The ball was wonderful, and the funds raised will greatly help the children’s hospital.”
Agnes smiled, a little more than she had at Genevieve’s mother. “Indeed, we were all pleased at the final results.”
Genevieve nodded. “If you will excuse me just a moment, Your Highnesses, while I convey some information.”
He and Agnes both nodded. To Gabriel, this seemed excessively formal, but perhaps Genevieve was acting this way due to her mother.
“Mrs. Kaur, I believe you’re needed in the dining room for a moment. And Mother, someone was asking for you in the other room.”
“Thank you, my dear,” Mrs. Kaur said as she rose, curtsied again, and left.
Mrs. Ruffin pursed her lips, but Genevieve wove an arm into her mother’s, curtsied (and forced a curtsy out of her mother), and politely manhandled her into another room.
Agnes leaned over and whispered. “That was excellent maneuvering. I doubt even Mother could have handled that better.”
Gabriel nodded in agreement but didn’t say more. Genevieve’s manners had been polite and practically perfect both yesterday and today. Yet today she seemed so different from the woman he’d met and held in his arms.
“Wouldn’t you say so, Gabriel?” his sister asked.
He blinked and turned his head towards her, trying to catch up with the conversation.
Agnes gestured with her eyes towards the dining table. “I think escorting Mrs. Kaur to dinner will get everyone moving.”
When had she returned from the dining room? “Of course. I’d be delighted.” Catching Miss Kaur’s eye, he added, “Perhaps I could also escort Miss Kaur as well.”
The young lady in question smiled brightly. “I’d be honoured, Your Highness.”
Mr. Kaur escorted Agnes, while he followed behind with the women. The others in the room followed behind them. Genevieve, he noticed, was being escorted by a rather short, slim man. Who was he? And why was his hand so close to her ass?
He found himself seated to Mr. Kaur’s right at the head of the table. He was offered the head spot, but declined it; he was merely a guest here and wanted to stay that way, protocol be damned.
Miss Kaur was seated beside him, and Genevieve wound up seated opposite her.
She was across the table and one spot away from him, yet it may have been an ocean for the glare she threw his way before taking her seat.
The glare only made him smile. For some masochistic reason, he enjoyed it when she was angry with him.
What he did not enjoy, however, was watching the man seated next to Genevieve spend the entire dinner service looking down her dress whenever he got a chance. The man also seemed to have a cold and sneezed on her more than once.
He had to hand it to her, she managed to maintain her composure, though he could see her sadness creeping in again as the evening wore on. He was growing to hate those moments when those shadows seemed to overtake her.
When they rose for after dinner drinks, he intended to pull her aside and talk, but she quickly disappeared with Miss Kaur. On the pretext of needing to speak to his driver outside, he stepped away from the group and began to search for her.
He was about to round a corner when he paused at her voice.
“I’m fine, it’s just a bad headache.”
A man’s voice, slightly slurred and a bit too loud, spoke up. “Come on, babe. Stay for one more,” the man burped, “one more drink.”
“No,” she said firmly. “Go back, enjoy yourself, and I’ll go home. Alone.”