Chapter Three #2
1. She’s a little shorter than Francesca. The top of her head reaches my chin.
2. She smells like roses with a hint of vanilla and something I can’t quite name.
3. When she looks up at me it’s impossible not to notice the mesmerising sparkle in her big blue eyes.
4. My hand is still holding her elbow and I should let go immediately before this becomes even more awkward than it already is.
And it is already pretty awkward.
I release her and step back, nearly tripping over one of the dogs in the process.
“Thanks awfully,” she says.
My eyes trail over her dress. I tell myself it’s to inspect the muddy paw prints and dog drool, but despite myself, I notice her, a hint of her womanly shape beneath its elegant lines.
I clear my throat. “Your dress.”
She glances down, worrying her lip. “Oops.”
Oops?
She’s ruined a perfectly suitable dress she was due to wear to meet not only me, but her future parents-in-law who also happen to be the King and Queen of Ledonia, and all she has to say is oops?
“You’ll need to change,” I say.
“Of course.”
“And dogs are not allowed in the glasshouse. The plants are too precious.” I know I sound just as stiff as the press says I am, but I’m committed now. “We can’t have the plants destroyed by the dogs.”
“Oh, don’t blame them. They followed me in here. If you’re going to blame anyone, blame me.”
I have no idea how to respond.
This is becoming a habit.
“You see, I had a look around and I wandered too far and got lost. And oh my goodness, Fred, you live in the most sumptuous palace. I mean, of course I knew it was gorgeous because I’ve been here before, but that was when I was a child, and all I really remember is how delicious the desserts were.
Then I met the dogs, and they looked like they were dying to get out of their kennel, so I let them out, and they followed me here to this marvelous place. ”
“Thank you for…err, explaining that.” I press my lips together. “We’re running very late for the meeting with my parents. Perhaps you could change as I deal with the dogs?” My voice comes out more briskly than intended, and her smile falters.
“Do you think they’ll be terribly disappointed? Your parents, I mean. Mine are used to me, but yours don’t really know me. I thought they might expect someone a little more… princess-y.”
“Princess-y?” I echo.
She’s making up words now?
“You know, like this.” She lifts her chin, pushes her shoulders back, and rearranges her features. And yes, she looks considerably more princess-y.
“Certainly more than you did a moment ago. But would you mind changing? Your dress, that is.” And your impetuous personality.
Her eyes widen. They really are very large and distractingly blue. “Of course I can change.”
“If you’d care to come with me, I’ll show you to your rooms.”
“Thanks, Fred. You’re the best,” she says genuinely. “Can I say a quick goodbye to the dogs first? We’ve had such a lovely time together, and I want them to know I’ll be sticking around.”
I close my eyes.
Oh, yes. This is definitely going to be a disaster.
She crouches down and says goodbye to every single dog individually, petting them and telling them how delighted she is to meet them. I tell her each of their names. Scarlett and Rhett, Marmalade and Toast, and Butterscotch.
Finally, she rises. “Right! Thank you for that. Shall we go?”
I lead her from the glasshouse, calling the dogs with a whistle. They dart past us onto the lawn.
“I always think animals are easier than people. Don’t you? They're more honest about what they want. If a dog likes you, they show it. If they don’t, they show that, too.”
There’s something disarmingly honest about that.
“I’m glad you like our dogs,” is my profoundly lame response.
We fall into silence as we make our way across the gravel path. I hold the French door ajar for her, and she steps inside ahead of me.
She turns to face me. “I suppose we should talk about the elephant in the room.”
“The elephant?”
“Your parents and my parents want us to wed to protect our countries. To keep Elkevik from going bankrupt, and preserve your monarchy.”
Blunt doesn’t even begin to describe this woman.
“That’s right,” I reply.
“Isn’t it all very romantic?” she asks with a cheeky smile, the dry tone in her voice catching me off guard.
“We’re doing what we must,” I reply.
“We are.” She studies my face earnestly. “Can I ask you a question?”
I give a cautious nod. I have no idea what’s coming.
“What do you want, Fred?”
Her question takes me by surprise. No one has asked me that, not once in this entire discussion.
“I want what’s best for Ledonia,” I say.
Which is true, though it’s not quite the whole truth.
“No, I mean what do you want? I’m not thinking of you as the prince or the future king, more as a person.”
I could answer her honestly. I could tell her I feel like a pawn in a diplomatic chess game. That the idea of marrying a virtual stranger feels like yet another part of my life being scripted for me, just as it has been since the day I was born.
But I barely know Astrid. She may be pretty and sweet and totally disarming, but I’m not about to expose my fears and doubts to someone I hardly know.
So instead, I stick to the party line.
“I think this is the best thing for both of our countries, and therefore for us. Duty first. Always.”
She nudges my arm gently and giggles, a light tinkling sound that echoes through the room. “That’s not an answer, Fred, and you know it.”
“Perhaps we should spend a little more time together before we get into such deep conversational topics,” I suggest.
She shrugs. “That seems fair to me.”
I lead through the echoing halls to the west wing, where her rooms are situated not far from mine.
“I’ll try very hard not to embarrass myself in front of your parents,” she says, smoothing her hands down the front of her dress as though attempting to erase the paw prints.
Given everything I’ve witnessed in the last ten or so minutes with her, I’m not convinced that’s even possible.
I simply nod as we reach the door to her suite and gesture for her to enter. “Take the time you need to change. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”
“Thank you.” She hesitates, her hand on the doorknob. “You know, you have a total tell when you’re worried.”
“I do?”
“Your face gets a little crease right here.” She gestures between her eyebrows. “It makes you look rather handsome and distinguished actually.”
If I were the blushing type, I might blush at the compliment. But I am not the blushing type, so instead, I stammer out a, “Thank you. I think.”
She grins at me. “You’re welcome, Fred.”
I want to correct her, tell her that my name is Frederic, not Fred. But it feels wrong to do that. She’s so warm and friendly and easy-going, even if she’s somewhat erratic and prone to inappropriate behavior.
We can have that conversation once she’s met my parents and we’re alone again.
She opens her door. “Thanks for not being angry with me about the glasshouse and the dogs.”
“I…er, it’s fine,” I reply.
Since when did I find it difficult to form words?
She disappears into her rooms, the door clicking shut behind her, and I release a long breath as I press my fingertips to my temples.
What have I gotten myself into?
I make my way back to my private study and find Tommaso already there. He rises to his feet, looking concerned. “Did you find her, sir? I had no success, I’m afraid.”
“I did. She was in the glasshouse.”
His look of surprise is only fleeting. “And how did the meeting with her go?”
I consider his question. How would I summarise meeting a woman who removes her shoes in a greenhouse, befriends palace dogs, and asks me about my personal feelings?
“She’s unique,” I say.
“Unique in a good way, sir?”
I chew my lip. The truth is, I don’t know yet. One thing I can say for certain is her behavior isn’t exactly regal. But on the other hand, she’s so refreshingly unencumbered by protocol and the right way of doing things. She’s her authentic self, with no apologies.
“Time will tell,” I say, which seems to satisfy Tommaso.
He bows his head and leaves me to my thoughts.
I sit at my desk and stare at the papers before me. Then I pull out my binder on Princess Astrid and flip through the photographs. In every single image, she’s smiling that same genuine smile she just gave me. She’s not an actor. She’s warm and unguarded and utterly herself.
Can I spend the rest of my life with someone like that? Someone full of excitement and optimism, whose behavior is anything but predictable? Someone so very different from myself?
I know she’s objectively beautiful. And when I look at her, I feel a certain attraction to her. I’m less a prince and more a man.
But those feelings can only go so far. Everyone knows attraction can be fleeting.
Could we be compatible? Could we make a life together? A real life, one filled with children, and duty, and possibly even… love?
I snap the folder shut. I’m letting my thoughts run away with me.
This is a business decision to benefit our respective countries. Nothing more.
I’d do well to remember that.