Page 28 of His Royal Matchmaker

“They aren’t hurdles. They’re steps.” She stands, smoothing her dress. “Ready to head back?”

I offer her my arm as we walk out, hyperaware of her small hand resting in the crook of my elbow. It feels right there, which is precisely the problem.

Tomorrow, I’ll meet more potential matches — women who fit whatever mysterious criteria she’s established based on our conversations. I should be dreading it, just like I was the last event. Instead, I find myself curious about who Emily now thinks would suit me, even as I wonder if anyone could possibly compare to the matchmaker herself.

The night air is cool as we step outside, the city lights reflecting off puddles from an earlier rain. Emily shivers slightly, and I resist the urge to put my arm around her shoulders.

This is just a job, I remind myself. For both of us.

But as we slide into the waiting car, our shoulders touching in the back seat, I know I’m already in trouble.

CHAPTER 13

EMILY

Iadjust the last place card on the round table then step back to survey my handiwork. The palace event room glows under tasteful lighting — not too romantic, not too sterile. Just right for speed-dating royalty. Everything is perfect, as it should be. Matchmaking for regular clients is one thing, but for this client? This has to be flawless.

If only my pulse would stop doing that weird jumpy thing it started doing last night.

Twelve tables, each with a single rose in a crystal vase. One royal bachelor who, until yesterday, I was convinced might be the most difficult client I’ve ever had.

But something changed last night. Something in the way his shoulders relaxed when it was just the two of us around. The way his laugh — when it finally emerged — seemed to surprise even him, as though he’d forgotten he was capable of it. Five years of rigid duty had calcified around him like a shell, but for just a moment, I glimpsed the man beneath.

Taking a moment to myself before the guests arrive, I glance in a mirror and smooth my hair. It took longer than usual this morning to pick my outfit — a floral dress — and I’m not sure why. It feels like I’m questioning everything today, and that has me concerned because it’s not like me at all.

A staff member pokes her head in. “Miss Emily? The candidates are in the waiting area.”

“Perfect. Please send them in in five minutes.” I check my notes one more time.

Twelve new women, carefully selected from aristocratic and accomplished backgrounds. Each one with qualities that could complement Prince Hugo. Each one, objectively speaking, far more suitable for him than his American matchmaker.

Not that I’m thinking about that.

The door opens again, and there he is. Prince Hugo walks in like he owns the room, which, technically, he does. I shift my weight, feeling oddly out of place under his gaze.

“Good afternoon, Your Highness.” My voice comes out steady and professional.Good job, Emily.

“Emily.” He nods formally, then does something unexpected — he smiles. It’s small, almost reluctant, but definitely there. “The room looks appropriate. Well done.”

I blink.Appropriate? Is that… approval? From Prince Stone Face?“Thank you. We’ll be welcoming twelve candidates today. Each speed date will last seven minutes, with one minute for transition. I’ve prepared topics of conversation if you need them, but?—”

“I think I can manage a conversation,” he says, a hint of that old arrogance returning.

“Of course. I just meant?—”

“I know what you meant.” There’s something softer in his voice now. “And I… appreciate the preparation.”

Two compliments in under a minute? I should check if the palace is still standing or if the world has ended while I wasn’t looking.

“You’re welcome,” I say, recovering quickly.

“I assume you picked these women based on last night?” His brow furrows. “So quickly?”

“I had a larger selection shortlisted.”

At this point, I’m broadening the search to women I wouldn’t have considered before, but that’s based as much on my developing knowledge of Hugo as it is the number of women he’s already burned through. When I started the job, I assumed he would be paired with a high-profile partner, but the realization that he might need a woman who prefers to stay out of the spotlight has changed things.

“Let’s get you settled at your table,” I say. “The women will rotate, and you’ll remain seated.”

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