Chapter 11
Estelle stared in astonishment at Valentin, utterly overcome with joy.
She hadn’t expected this at all…never imagining he would announce tonight that she would become his bride!
In front of everyone he raised her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers so tenderly, his gaze fixed upon her face.
Then he smiled, a sweet boyish smile that went straight to her heart for how truly happy he looked—
“Stop! That is impossible!”
Estelle froze at the collective gasp that erupted in the ballroom while Valentin’s expression was truly ominous to behold as Princess Hortense rose from her chair.
“You cannot marry that girl, Valentin, and if you doubt me, ask your privy council!”
He didn’t move, didn’t say a word, though he looked darkly around the ballroom as if seeking out the seven men who that very afternoon had attended his coronation.
One by one the members of his privy council began to stand, several with clear reluctance, while Estelle felt the tension rising in Valentin as he held fast to her fingers.
Still he said nothing, the bearded gentleman who appeared to be the most senior member of his council stepping forward as if he meant to speak for all of them.
“Forgive me, Your Highness, but it is true. There is an impediment—”
“Impediment?”
Valentin’s voice filled with barely controlled anger, Estelle was struck by a horrible sinking feeling as the man nodded, clearly uncomfortable from how he glanced at the others. Yet then he seemed to square his shoulders as if he knew he must press forward with a very unpleasant task.
“Yes, Your Highness, though I think it best we adjourn to another room to discuss this matter privately—”
“I have nothing to hide from anyone here, Lord Petit! Speak!”
Sighing heavily, the man glanced at Estelle with a regretful look and then back to Valentin. “Our law states that the bride of our sovereign must be of impeccable virtue—”
“Good God, man, what are you saying?”
Valentin didn’t sound as angry now as incredulous, while Estelle began to tremble from the sudden intuition gripping her. Oh, Lord, no…please, no.
“It’s been brought to our attention that four nights past, Miss Easton allowed you entrance into her room with no chaperone.”
“Yes, I asked her if she would marry me! I was there for only a few moments and then I left—but by God, how did you come by this knowledge?”
“A footman the next morning observed the exchange of an article from your clothing between Miss Easton and her lady’s maid. Clothing you’d worn the night before.”
At that revelation, the terrible hush that had descended upon the ballroom became shocked gasps and furtive conversation as Valentin swore vehemently under his breath.
“Might this article be a brass button, Lord Petit? I admit one came loose from my dress uniform but surely that is no grounds to bar my marriage to Miss Easton—”
“Oh, but it is grounds, Valentin,” Princess Hortense interrupted him, lifting her chin imperiously.
“Lord Petit already stated your bride must be of impeccable virtue, but that is clearly not the case here. Most certainly not! That she allowed you into her room with no chaperone is proof enough that her morals are as loose as her pedigree is nonexistent!”
Estelle sucked in her breath as Valentin’s half-sister looked at her with such disdain that she wished she could simply sink through the floor. Trembling uncontrollably now, she truly feared she would be sick.
“Enough of this madness!” shouted Adam, who strode forward to Estelle’s side. “Forgive me, Valentin, but I’ll not stand by any longer while my sister-in-law is so unjustly and falsely maligned. Discuss this matter further with your privy council as you must, but not with us present!”
Linette rushed to Estelle’s side, too, and only then did Valentin reluctantly release her hand as he nodded at Adam. Her legs wooden, she was certain she would have collapsed if her sister and brother-in-law hadn’t looped their arms through hers to assist her from the ballroom.
Only at the last moment did she glance behind her at Valentin, his face so stricken that an anguished cry burst from her throat.
Yet no tears came, she was so stunned, so horrified.
She heard him roar out a command for everyone to leave the ballroom save for his privy council and his half-sister, and then the world seemed to spin around her and her legs finally gave way.
She felt herself lifted by Adam as Linette hastened alongside him, weeping, then blessedly nothing more.
“Find me that footman.”
“My lord, the search has continued since last night, but the man is nowhere to be found,” Robert replied, looking at Valentin with concern.
“As you said, he must have been paid to watch for any perceived indiscretion that Princess Hortense could use against you. Finding him won’t change matters, I fear. The damage has been done.”
Damage? Losing the woman of his dreams to a suspected plot that sickened him still at its maliciousness?
Hortense had insisted so innocently last night in the ballroom that she’d only been interested in protecting him and ensuring that their father’s wish for Valentin to marry a suitable bride be fulfilled.
She’d admitted to no knowledge of this footman other than that he had come to her of his own accord with information that had deeply troubled him, never having been one to trust the English since the time when he’d fought for Napoleon.
Hortense had admitted, too, that she’d felt duty bound to share with Valentin’s privy council what she’d learned, but had asked them not to say anything unless he made an ill-advised move that she feared, he might.
No argument had swayed them, all seven members of his privy council—though to a man they expressed regret—had held fast to their insistence that the law was clear about the potential bride of a crowned prince of Bratavia being above reproach.
Her reputation spotless, unsullied. It hadn’t seemed to matter that Valentin had been the one at fault to have gone to Estelle’s room, however innocently and impulsively, to ask for her hand in marriage.
A foolhardy move that had cost him a lifetime with the woman he loved—God help him, how was he ever to bear it?
“Please, my lord, you must get some rest.”
“Leave me, Robert. I thank you, but leave me.” He heard his loyal friend heave a sigh, but Robert nodded and left the drawing room.
Valentin stared at the flames burned down to glowing ashes in the fireplace…just as there was nothing left to him but ashes.
Ashes of a dream that was no more, Adam telling him when Valentin had gone a few hours ago to confirm that the privy council had not altered their decision, that Adam, his wife, and Estelle would be leaving in the morning for Calais.
There they would find a ship bound for England so they might return home.
There was nothing else to be done, Adam had said as he clasped Valentin’s hand, his voice heavy with regret. Nor did he think it was a good idea for him to see Estelle, who had lain abed since last night, not sleeping, not speaking, and not eating.
Walking by her closed door when Valentin had left Adam and Linette’s room had nearly crushed him. Yet he’d kept going, out of respect for the wishes of a man he considered a friend and because he couldn’t bear to cause Estelle further pain by repeating news that would only break her heart.
As for his heart…
Cursing, Valentin thrust himself out of the chair and began to pace in front of the fireplace, just as he’d been pacing and thinking all night long and now well into the afternoon.
He’d given the footman’s description to his soldiers—yes, Valentin had realized with a jolt that the man must have been the same one he’d nearly run into the other night in the hallway.
They had fanned out all over the castle and through the town, searching as long as he’d been pacing…
and still there was no sign of the bastard as if he’d never existed at all!
Yet Valentin refused to accept that nothing could be done.
He refused to believe that by tomorrow morning, Estelle would be on her way back to Cornwall and he would never see her again.
And he had refused to listen to Hortense’s incredible insistence last night—even with anguish written all over his face—that he must quickly choose a bride from among the three women who no doubt had watched what unfolded with delight.
Her mounting frustration had been plain to see as he’d turned a deaf ear to her argument that strong alliances must be made.
That he must think of the future of Bratavia and not his own romantic whims, and that the women’s families eagerly awaited news of whom he would pick for his wife.
None of which mattered to Valentin, though everything his father had engrained in him over the years rang in his mind, too.
He was a prince and a prince must rule. A prince must marry, have children, a son to follow in his footsteps and daughters with auburn hair just like their mother…
“Estelle…” His voice ragged, Valentin leaned against the mantel in despair.
Even if his soldiers found the footman, what would that change? Even if the man confirmed Valentin’s theory that Hortense had paid him to spy upon him and Estelle, the damage was done.
God help him, the damage was done!
“Miss Easton, please, you must try to eat something.”
Estelle turned her face away from Mattie, despair overwhelming her.
Even as the young woman had moved around the room packing her belongings until a supper tray had arrived from the kitchen, Estelle had lain upon the bed and kept her eyes closed as if she could blot out everything and what it meant.
The swish of silk and satin being carefully folded.
Trunk lids opening and closing.
Mattie’s every action a death knell to Estelle of the wondrous future she’d hoped to share with Valentin—oh, no, Valentin!
She sighed brokenly. The shock of last night at the ball still enveloped her like a nightmare from which she could not awaken.