Page 14 of His Royal Matchmaker

“Only when I’m thinking about something fascinating, Your Highness,” I reply, holding up his schedule. “Like your very busy week ahead.”

My plan was to turn over a new leaf tomorrow, to do everything I can to be kind and pleasant to him. However, after him accusing me of bumping intohim —when he also had to have not been looking where he was going — I’m suddenly inclined to be anything but.

His eyes narrow. “What are you talking about?”

“I just spoke to your mother. We had a lovely chat. I’ll be getting your schedule from your secretary.”

Hugo’s jaw tightens, a muscle twitching beneath his five-o’clock shadow. “And why, exactly, do you need my schedule?”

I straighten to my full height, which still leaves me looking up at him like he’s a particularly handsome skyscraper. “Because, Your Highness, since you won’t tell me about yourself, I’ve decided to observe for myself.”

“Observe?” His eyebrows draw together, creating a little furrow I have a strange urge to smooth with my thumb.

“Shadow. Follow. Watch. Starting with tomorrow morning.”

The prince’s face darkens like a summer storm rolling in. “Absolutely not.”

“Absolutely yes,” I counter. “With your mother’s full approval.”

He runs a hand through his hair, mussing its perfect arrangement. “This is ridiculous. You’re supposed to find me potential wives, not follow me around like a?—”

“Like a professional doing her job?” I finish for him. “Prince Hugo, I can’t match you with your ideal partner if I don’t know the first thing about you. And since you’ve made it abundantly clear that you won’t tell me yourself, this is the alternative.”

“Can’t you just…” He waves his hand vaguely. “Find some appropriate women and let me choose? Isn’t that how this works?”

I cross my arms. “Maybe for amateurs. I don’t just find ‘appropriate women.’ I find therightwoman. Someone who complements your personality, shares your values, andchallenges you in the ways you need to be challenged. But to do that, I need to know who you are beyond ‘Prince of Marzieu.’”

A flicker of amusement crosses his face so quickly I almost miss it. Then the storm clouds return.

“I don’t have time for this. I have a council meeting tomorrow that is highly sensitive. State matters are not for civilian ears.”

“Fine,” I concede. “I’ll wait outside. But the rest of your day is fair game.”

“Miss Neale?—”

“Emily is fine,” I correct him. “If I’m going to be your shadow for the next few days, you might as well use my first name.”

He looks like he’s considering picking me up and locking me in a tower somewhere. “Emily,” he says, my name sounding strangely formal in his accented voice. “This is highly irregular and completely unnecessary.”

“On the contrary; it’s both regular — for me — and absolutely necessary. Unless you’d prefer to fill out my comprehensive fifty-page questionnaire instead? It covers everything from your childhood pets to your opinions on breakfast foods.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, looking pained. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“Not a chance, Your Highness.”

He sighs, a sound so heavy it seems to bear the burden of his entire kingdom. “Fine. Shadow me. But stay out of my way, don’t interrupt my meetings, and for God’s sake, don’t wear anything that jingles.”

I frown. “Jingles?”

“I would like to forget that you are there.”

This time, I can’t help the laugh that bubbles up. “No bells, I promise. Why on earth would I wear anything that makes noise?”

Hugo doesn’t laugh, but something in his expression softens infinitesimally. Then, as if catching himself, he steps back, squaring his shoulders.

“My morning briefing is at seven o’clock. Don’t be late.” He turns on his heel and strides away, his back ramrod straight, shoulders tight with tension.

“Sweet dreams to you too, Prince Charming,” I mutter under my breath, watching him go.

---