Chapter 15 #2
I looked at Oliver and our eyes met. Were we thinking the same thing, about how nice those fleeting moments in the closet had been?
I broke our eye contact but couldn’t help looking down to his mouth.
It had felt amazing to have his lips on me again.
The way he had held me so tightly and knew exactly what I loved had felt like coming home.
“Mum?” Oliver said, looking back to his mother. “I just thought of the perfect way to make it up to Adelaide.”
“You have my attention.” She sipped her tea.
“Mine as well,” I added, curious to hear what he was about to suggest.
“Let’s take the family to the school’s annual donation drive next week.
We can bring the other women; I’m sure it can be worked into the events schedule.
My future wife will certainly be the type to happily volunteer and help the community.
” His eyes flicked to me, and I wondered if he had me in mind with that last part.
I took a sip of my tea, begging the butterflies in my stomach to calm down.
Queen Isobel clasped her hands, beaming with pride. “Oliver, that’s a wonderful idea.”
He turned to me. “Would that be okay, Adelaide? We don’t want to put any additional stress on you.”
How could I say no? We would need to work out the additional security protocols, but I had handled it before and could do it again—especially for the added visibility that having the royal family in attendance would bring.
“I can reach out to my headteacher and let her know.” I turned to the queen. “Would I be in contact with your assistant again? I still have her number and can get in contact with her to arrange everything.”
“Yes, please. Mirabel will get it all sorted.”
I placed two finger sandwiches on my plate and felt a squeeze on my other hand. I looked up to Oliver, a wide grin on his face.
“I’m so happy we can help and make up for the last time we were there.”
I smiled at him and squeezed his hand in return, unable to put the jumbled mess of my emotions into words.
After we had finished our tea and sandwiches, Queen Isobel folded her napkin neatly, setting it on the table. “Oliver, would you like to begin the tour?”
“Yes, of course. Adelaide, are you ready?”
I nodded.
The queen clapped her hands. “Wonderful. Do be sure to stop by my office and say goodbye before you leave.”
My mouth popped open. “Oh, are you not joining us?”
She shook her head. “I’m afraid Mirabel and I have several things we need to get wrapped up if we are going to fit the donation drive into the events schedule.
But Oliver knows all the history, and I trust he can answer any questions you have.
” She took my hands in her own. “It was lovely having tea with you today, dear. You have grown into such a lovely young woman. Your parents should be proud.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” I murmured as she placed a soft kiss on my cheek and left the room.
Oliver led me out of the parlor and down the corridor toward the ballroom. I walked next to him, willing my heart to stop beating like a bass drum. It seemed impossible that he wouldn’t be able to hear it, too.
This was our first time alone together since our hookup in the storage closet.
Earlier this week, following the competition’s opening gala, all the contestants had attended a press conference and tour of Altborn’s artisan workshops.
I hadn’t been able to avoid him that day the way I had at the gala, but I had managed to steer clear of being alone with him.
Being alone together was bad. It was when we were on our own that I couldn’t deny the flutter of butterflies in my stomach every time he looked at me or his hand brushed against mine.
“I’m sure you remember the grand ballroom from the welcome gala,” Oliver said as he held one of the enormous doors open for me. “Or, perhaps you don’t…were you even there?” he added cheekily.
I felt heat rise in my cheeks. “Oliver…”
He shook his head and huffed a laugh through his nose. “I get it, Laidie. I don’t blame you for hiding.”
“I wasn’t hiding, I was…” I stuttered, trying to come up with an excuse for my absence, which he had clearly noticed. “Okay. I was hiding.”
I looked around, taking in the room’s vaulted ceilings, the crystal chandelier, the damask-covered walls. I moved closer to a tapestry hung near the door, awestruck by the details woven into the piece. It was a shame I hadn’t spent more time in the ballroom that night—this space was stunning.
Oliver followed me, keeping a respectful distance between us. “Adelaide, if you don’t want to be here, that’s okay. You’re welcome to remove yourself from the competition at any time. I only want you to be here if you want to be.”
I turned, meeting his silvery gaze. “Okay,” I answered, unable to say anything else.
“Come on, let’s keep going.” Oliver held out his hand and I took it, following him wherever he led.
After touring the state rooms and the art gallery, we made our way to the second floor where the family’s offices were held. Oliver noted which door belonged to which working royal before letting me explore his own office.
I ran my fingers over the back of a comfortable-looking armchair and perused the collection of books on his shelves, interspersed with knickknacks.
“Just a few things I’ve picked up during my travels over the years,” he noted, following my gaze to a ceramic bowl painted in a brightly colored geometric pattern.
“That one is from a market in Marrakesh.”
“It’s beautiful. Will you keep this office when you become king?” I asked, turning to take in the large wooden desk.
Oliver shook his head. “No, I’ll move into my father’s office. They’ll move my things following the coronation.”
I hummed thoughtfully. “Will you miss it?”
“My office, or the freedom of not being the head of state?”
I snorted. “Either. Both.”
“Yes. And yes. But if I don’t take on the title, it’ll become Rosie’s responsibility. And she deserves to finish out her childhood without the weight of a crown added to it.”
I took his hand again, squeezing it tightly. I didn’t let go as we left his office and he led me to the family’s private residence wing.
As we walked, he narrated which suites were currently occupied by family members and which were vacant, throwing in bits and pieces of the palace’s history as we went.
He paused briefly outside of one door before saying, “This is the palace nursery. It’s where all of us children lived until we were five and got our own rooms.”
Ice spread down my spine and I pulled my hand away from his, pretending to adjust my hair. The nursery. For the babies he and his wife would have.
Adelaide, you are an idiot, I chided myself. Yet again, I had managed to lose myself for just a moment, enjoying holding his hand and the conversation that came as easily as ever. But hearing the word “nursery” come out of his mouth was a stark reminder of what could never be for us.
Oliver cleared his throat. “Well, that’s about it. Is there anything else you wanted to see?”
I shook my head. “No. Thank you for the tour. My dad will be here to pick me up soon, though, so I should probably say goodbye to your mum and get my coat.”
Oliver nodded, leading me back to Queen Isobel’s office, this time keeping his distance as we walked. I knew he could tell that something had changed but was grateful he didn’t inquire what was wrong.
I said my goodbyes to the queen, promising to be in touch with Mirabel in the coming days to arrange the details of the donation drive.
Oliver walked with me to the door and helped me into my coat.
As he pressed a kiss to my cheek, I promised myself that I would withdraw from the competition just as soon as the donation drive was over.
“Adelaide, darling, you look magnificent,” Queen Mother Evelyn smiled, taking my gloved hands in her own and looking me over.
We were at a winter garden party hosted by Lord and Lady Thorne and their daughter Sabine, one of the other suitors in the competition.
Sabine was one of the country’s most renowned environmentalists and an expert in sustainable floristry, so it was no surprise that her family had opted to host an outdoor party—even if it was the end of November.
I had to hand it to Sabine, though: The garden was stunning.
While some of the flowers were in movable planters that I assumed were kept in the greenhouses most of the time, she had plotted out the space to include a number of winter-blooming shrubs that provided a beautiful sea of color among the snow.
With her tight black curls, rich brown skin, and perfect, regal posture—not to mention her brilliant mind—Sabine would certainly make a wonderful queen and wife for Oliver if he chose her.
I tried not to wince at the thought. Several of my fellow contestants were wonderful women whom I had come to think of as my friends, but a pit still opened in my stomach every time I thought of one of them ending up with Oliver.
“Thank you, Your Highness,” I said, bobbing a curtsy at Evelyn.
Birdie, my best friend in the competition, chimed in, “When we were dress shopping, the shop owner said that Adelaide looked like you from the 1959 state dinner in that dress.”
I blushed, running my hands over the forest-green dress.
I did love this dress, from the way it matched my eyes to how it hugged my body.
The high neckline was elegant, with a keyhole cutout at the back that added a flair of drama.
It also coordinated perfectly with one of my favorite pairs of vintage pumps in a lovely champagne hue.
I lifted my head and found Oliver’s gaze boring into me, raking over my body.
I knew that hungry look in his eyes far too well.
I half listened as Evelyn regaled us with the account of that state dinner, trying to keep my attention on her and away from Oliver in his perfect-fitting tuxedo.
His thick blond hair was freshly cut and his jaw was smooth-shaven.
He was close enough that I kept catching whiffs of his cologne, a mix of tobacco and caramel that made my head spin.
I turned my attention back to the group, listening to Evelyn’s story of the night she and the late King Francis had announced their engagement and of the way King Francis had worked to gain Evelyn’s trust and eventually her love, despite her initial reluctance at their arranged marriage.
My heart ached as my gaze returned to Oliver, knowing he was the same kind of man who would do anything to ensure his future wife felt safe with him. I knew because it was how he had always been with me.
I blinked rapidly, swallowing past the lump in my throat even as I laughed at a part of Evelyn’s tale.
It was time to admit to myself why I hadn’t yet dropped out of the competition, regardless of having plenty of opportunities to do so: In spite of our history, in spite of all of the reasons that I told myself we couldn’t be together, I was deeply, desperately, whole-heartedly in love with Oliver Courtwright.