Chapter 13 #2
“It’s not your attention that I dislike!” she said, frustration getting the better of her. “I should very much like to be your friend! It’s the court’s reaction to that attention that I hate!”
As the words tumbled out of her mouth, she nearly gasped at her own audacity. Had she really just told the crown prince that she wanted to be his friend?
He stared at her for a long moment–so long that she wondered if he might turn and abandon her forever. But then understanding dawned in his eyes, and he closed his once more before making what sounded very much like a growl.
“I understand,” he finally said. Then he looked about the room.
But did he really understand? Rosie studied him warily.
“I understand,” he said again, “and I’m sorry for it. Truly.” When he looked at her again, it was with sadness. “I had hoped to spare you from these kinds of games.” He glanced around once more, not seeming to realize that Rosie was nearly melting from relief.
He understood.
And better yet, he wasn’t angry.
Why did that give her so much relief? It didn’t change anything, of course. She was still the castle pariah, thanks to Lady Sandra. But at least Jonathan wasn’t angry.
Jonathan. When had she started calling him by his given name in her thoughts?
“The best defense for such attacks,” he finally said, still staring thoughtfully out at the crowd, “is to ignore them and carry on with your daily life.”
Rosie let out an unladylike snort. When he looked at her in surprise, she apologized with a laugh.
“I’m sorry, Your Highness,” she said, unable to keep from smiling. “It’s just that… your cousin believed you would decide something like that.”
“Well then, with all due respect to my cousin, she’s wrong.”
Rosie couldn’t help teasing a little. “Wasn’t she the one I was supposed to learn from and obey when it came to court matters?”
“In most instances, yes,” he said. “Except this one. Wherein she is wrong.”
Rosie gave him a dry grin. “Pray tell then, what am I supposed to do?”
He took a breath, then let it out slowly. “If you allow the court to make your decisions for you, you hand them control of your life.” He gave her a sardonic grin. “Ask me how I know.”
Rosie suddenly wished very much that she could. But this was neither the time nor the place for such a conversation. Which led back to their original problem.
“But in the meantime,” he continued, “dance with any and all men who ask you tonight. Just…” His eyes flashed.
“Save the last dance for me.” Then he walked away, leaving Rosie staring after him in utter confusion.
Not a single man had asked her to dance since the dancing had begun.
How many did he think were going to approach her tonight, especially with Lady Sandra’s rumor running wild?
Not two minutes later, however, Frederick approached her with his usual friendly smile, and Rosie was only too relieved to have someone lead her away from the wall.
She expected, of course, that her new brother would eventually get around to dancing with her.
But she didn’t expect Sir Milo to ask her after that.
Or one of the prince’s close friends, Lord Devon, who asked her after him.
Slowly, one at a time, men from all over the court–a surprising number of delightful men she had not before met–came to ask her to dance.
Apparently, many of them didn’t live at the castle, which, she learned, was why she hadn’t met them. And with each partner, she realized that the queen watched her less and less. Very soon, she was even enjoying herself a little.
But then, as the evening grew late, one last man approached to request a dance, and Rosie found herself looking up once again into the blue eyes of the crown prince.
And without seeming to know what she was doing, she allowed him to lead her onto the dance floor.
His large hand took hers in his, and his other held her waist, and her heart leaped when she realized just how close they were.
Lady Sandra was right, Rosie realized with dismay as he began to turn her around in circles.
Not that Rosie would ever lead him into a compromising situation, of course.
But the awful lady had, apparently, foreseen that if they had simply been two commoners–if Rosie and Jonathan were simply allowed to be themselves–Rosie would have welcomed his solicitudes eagerly.
Because he was the kind of man she would wish to face the world with.
The kind of partner she could fight against the troubles of life with, knowing she was safe at his side.
“Did I send enough men?” he asked, smiling mischievously down at her. “From afar, it seemed to be quite a formidable army.”
His expression was one she hadn’t yet seen, and it made him look years younger.
“So you did send them,” she whispered accusingly, which only made him laugh. “And here I was, thinking my feminine wiles had been enough.”
“Oh, they’re more than enough,” he said, his laugh suddenly dying and his eyes growing fiery and intense. “That’s why those old cats target you. They can see that your beauty threatens theirs.”
Rosie felt herself blush with pleasure. “I’m not sure, however, that dancing together serves our purposes of distraction.” She gave him an ornery look. “You’ve just undone all your hard work.”
He scoffed. “Oh, not at all. I’ve only made it clear to Lady Sandra that she hasn’t won. And after all, why should I be denied your company while no one else is?”
And Rosie couldn’t help but smile.