Chapter 3
three
I’ve never before met a woman who wanted so little to do with me. I’m not sure how I ought to proceed. Perhaps I’ll ask Ferdinand for advice, though I’m sure he’ll only laugh at me. ~ from the journal of Prince Gabriel
GAbrIEL
Was it wrong to love the way she felt in his arms? Even through his gloves, he could feel the warmth of her skin.
The music began with a few instruments, seemingly playful and happy. She crouched slightly to pick up her dress, then they twirled as the waltz truly began.
“You should watch your hands, Your Highness.”
He couldn’t resist teasing her. “Hardly my fault if there’s no where else for my hands to go. This is the proper stance for a waltz, as I’m sure you know.” As they turned again, he leaned slightly closer. “However, I can place my hands somewhere else, if you prefer. I’m open to suggestions.”
“Does that line ever work, Your Highness?”
“Not so far, though you’re the only one I’ve tried it on. Should I try it on someone else?”
Her mouth fell slightly open, then shut into a demure smile. “Do as you like, Your Highness.”
He decided his usual flirting may not work with her, so he decided to try being straightforward. “I get the impression that you do not much like me, Miss Ruffin.”
She waited a beat before responding. “And?”
He huffed a laugh. “You’re the first one to be quite so obvious about it.”
As the music swelled and the entire orchestra joined in, he continued to move her expertly around the ballroom.
He couldn’t help but notice the way her skirt subtly floated behind her as they waltzed, how the soft lighting seemed to catch the highlights in her dark blonde hair and make her skin appear even more luminous, how her earrings danced along with them.
He wished he’d chosen a longer waltz for their dance.
Shifting to a lighter topic, he asked, “Did you wear this dress for someone?”
“No,” she said simply.
His hands tightened their hold on her. “Really? It wasn’t for one of the fools you were dancing with earlier, or the one you were gazing at before our dance?”
Another twirl. “That seems ungenerous. I’m not saying some of them aren’t fools, or worse. I’m merely saying you shouldn’t judge someone unless you know them.”
“You’re not answering me.”
“Nor will I.”
They continued their way across the dance floor as classical music echoed through the ballroom.
“Are you coy on purpose?”
She laughed. “Hardly. If you must know, dancing with you will please my mother. That’s why I’m doing it.”
“But it doesn’t please you?”
“No,” she again responded simply and without further explanation.
Eventually, as he continued to wait for more, she sighed. “A dance with you takes me further from my goal and closer to my mother’s goal.”
A few things started to click. “Your mother wants you to be a princess.”
“Yes.”
“But you don’t?”
“No.”
“Don’t all little girls want to grow up and become princesses?”
She let out a very unladylike snort. “Hardly. Some of us are too busy surviving to imagine fairy tales, Your Highness.”
The music hit a crescendo, and he knew the end of their dance was coming. “I’d be honored if you could share what you meant by that.”
She shook her head. “I spoke hastily, Your Highness. I apologize. It must be the wine.”
“You only drank it a few minutes ago. Surely it didn’t go to your head that quickly.”
She looked away from him…or perhaps towards someone else?
He pulled her slightly closer, forcing her gaze to lock with his once again. He was edging against the line of propriety and scandal, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. “Miss Ruffin, I’d like to see you again.”
“I’m sure you will, at some other party or such, though I doubt you’ll notice me. We have met before, as we’ve attended a few of the same functions.”
Had they been introduced and he simply forgot? How had he missed her?
“However, you shouldn’t feel obligated to dance with me again. Once should be sufficient for my mother.”
It wouldn’t be enough for him, he already knew it. “Do you really believe that?”
“No, but I’d like to.” Her voice was quieter, harder to hear as the music swelled once more. They had seconds left together, at best, before the dance ended.
“Miss Ruffin.” Oh, fuck propriety. “Genevieve. I’d like to see you again, and not just for a dance.”
Her eyes widened as the song came to an end. “I-I’m not that sort of woman, Your Highness.”
Before he could make it clear that that wasn’t what he meant, she pulled away to curtsy.
“Thank you for the dance, Your Highness.” She turned and walked away, her back once again on display. Except now he knew how it felt under his fingers, knew how soft it was, knew her scent and how she felt in his arms.
And he wasn’t sure he’d ever forget it.
The Second Waltz…he’d always loved it, loved dancing to it. Though it seemed joyful, it had an undercurrent of sadness, of bittersweet longing. He would always associate it with her now.
“I believe it’s our dance, Your Highness.”
He turned and saw it was Genevieve’s friend, once again with an amused smile.
He held out his hand as the next song started. “Of course. Please forgive me, I’ve forgotten your name.”
“Miss Samira Kaur,” she said as she curtsied. “My father works in the foreign affairs office, Your Highness.”
“Of course.”
As they settled into the dance, a mischievous smile lit Miss Kaur’s face. “Forgive me if this is too bold a question, but did you enjoy your dance with my dearest friend, Miss Ruffin?”
Should he be neutral or honest? He wasn’t sure why, but he got the impression that he and Miss Kaur were on the same ‘side’ when it came to Genevieve.
“I did enjoy it, quite a lot. She’s a very intriguing woman, and I’d be interested in learning more about her.”
Miss Kaur nodded. “My father is hosting a dinner party at our home for several ministers and former ministers, and Miss Ruffin is expected to be there. I believe we sent an invitation to your offices. Though you initially declined, perhaps you can find time in your schedule.”
Gabriel smiled. “Thank you for informing me. I’m sure I can fit it in.”
“I should warn you, however, that Miss Ruffin’s mother will be there as well.”
Genevieve’s voice echoed in his head: A dance with you takes me further from my goal and closer to my mother’s goal.
He nodded again, understanding. “Thank you for the…information.”
As the song was winding down, Miss Kaur pursed her lips, then seemed to come to some decision. “Gen is a good person, Your Highness,” she said suddenly.
“Oh?”
“She’s the best…the absolute best, most amazing person in my life. I don’t want anyone else to hurt her, or play with her feelings.”
Anyone else? Who had hurt her before? Another man?
He also resented the implication that he might hurt her, or any woman for that matter. “That’s…We barely know each other. I’m not promising a future with her, but I can assure you I do not hurt women.”
“Hurt isn’t always physical. Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Your Highness.”
People clapped as the song ended and she curtsied. “Thank you for the dance, Your Highness.”
“Thank you, Miss Kaur.”
Corrado walked up as Miss Kaur turned to walk away, and she gave him a double take. Corrado was a handsome man, but had no interest in women, and no interest in anyone when he was in work mode, as he was now.
“Sir, His Majesty would like to speak with you. He’s in the Blue Room next door.”
Gabriel nodded and started walking in that direction. The ballroom had several smaller rooms nearby, for quiet meetings, a place to rest, or even for a discreet rendezvous. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t used those rooms for all three, especially the latter in his younger days.
The protection agents opened the door as he approached, and he found his father smoking while staring into a fire.
Though the ballroom had been warm from the crush of people, this room was a bit chilly but not cold enough to warrant a fire for a few minutes of conversation.
“How long have you been here, Father? Are you unwell? Should I call—”
He let out another puff of smoke, then waved away the comment with his cigarette-holding hand. “I just needed a break. Some of the ministers never shut up. As if I’d ever agree to their ridiculous ideas in a ballroom.” He shook his head. “Have a seat. Would you like one?”
“No, thank you.” He’d only a smoked a few times in his life and wasn’t all that fond of it. Their mother wasn’t either and couldn’t stand the smell, but his father worked hard to keep the smell of smoke out of his clothes and brushed his teeth often.
Gabriel wondered what his father was thinking as he sat down. “What is it, Father?”
“You’ve danced with several ladies. Have any of them interested you?”
“Some, yes,” Gabriel hedged. “Though I wouldn’t marry any of them based off one dance and conversation.”
Wouldn’t he though?
His father nodded and took another drag, taking his time to blow out the smoke.
He made quite the picture—the royal king relaxed against centuries-old furniture, dressed in an impeccable suit, his medals glinting against the firelight, the smoke from his cigarette sending swirls of gray into the room.
“Your brothers seem to be having better success than you.”
“It may seem that way, but don’t be fooled.”
His father chuckled, which faded into a cough. They’d spoken to him before about quitting smoking, but to no avail. Though his habit wasn’t a secret, he never smoked in public, so most people wouldn’t know he smoked.
“Be sure to dance with your mother and sister.”
“Of course, Father. I’ve already danced with Mother, and Agnes has been too busy dancing with others to bother with me, but I’ll ask her.
” He waited a beat for his father to say why he’d called him in, because he doubted it had to do with dancing.
“Was there anything else, something I could help you with?”