Page 41 of His Royal Matchmaker

It’s a dangerous daydream, but I can’t stop it now that it’s begun. What if I allowed this to happen? What if I followed this feeling instead? Would the world really collapse if Prince Hugo fell for the wrong woman?

Would my understanding of who I am collapse? And would that be such a bad thing?

“What are you thinking about?” she asks, tilting her head.

“How I need to have the house deep-cleaned,” I lie.

“Ah.” Does she look disappointed, or am I just imagining it?

She shifts the conversation back to relationship coaching, but my mind cannot focus on it. I nod and make sounds of agreement, wishing that the two of us could be swimming in the lake or stealing kisses beneath the trees.

“We should probably be going,” she says, checking the time after what feels too soon. “You need to be back at the palace for a meeting. Thank you for showing me your home. It’s… it helps me understand you better.”

I walk her to my car, the moment — whatever it was — broken. The drive back to the palace is quiet, but now it feels like it’s more than the loud wind forcing us into silence.

As we head inside the massive structure, she looks over at me. “We can’t wait much longer to set up second dates. Just so you know.”

“Of course.” My chest feels heavy at the thought.

“I’ll look at your schedule and figure out some times.”

I grunt in response, only wishing for the conversation to end at this point.

“And you’ll read the books?”

“I promise.”

She hesitates at the main staircase, then reaches out and squeezes my hand quickly. “Thank you for today. For trusting me with this part of yourself.”

I watch her disappear upstairs, my thoughts churning like a stormy sea. For five years, I’ve known exactly who I am and what I must do. Prince Hugo, dutiful son, future king. My path has been clear, if not particularly joyful.

But now, for the first time since my father’s death, I find myself considering a different road. One that leads away from work and toward something frightening and exhilarating. Something that feels like living instead of just existing.

It’s not that simple, though. I’m the most conflicted I’ve ever been. The weight of what I’ve thought I want presses down on one shoulder, while the memory of Emily’s smile tugs at the other. I don’t know which way I’ll tip, but for the first time in years, not knowing what comes next is not terrifying.

It is freeing.

CHAPTER 17

EMILY

Sighing, I sit back in my office chair and gaze at the calendar I’ve confirmed with Hugo’s assistant. Four dates spread out over the next week and a half.

It was challenging making time for him to see some of the women from the speed-dating event, but I made it happen — even with my chest feeling like it was being wrung the whole while.

I’m not stupid. I know that the longer I stay here, the harder it will be for me to move on from this crush on Hugo. The sooner I find his princess, the sooner I can go home and forget about his crooked smile and the way he rubs the back of his neck when he’s uncomfortable, about the way?—

My cell rings, making me jump in my seat.

“Hello, this is Emily,” I answer, not recognizing the number.

“Miss Neale.” The voice is clipped and proper. “Her Majesty requests your presence at dinner tonight. Just yourself, Prince Hugo, and the queen. Seven o’clock sharp in the Blue Dining Room.”

My stomach drops. Dinner with the queen? “Of course,” I say, trying to sound like dining with royalty is no big deal. “Please tell Her Majesty I’d be honored.”

“She also requests a brief update on your progress with the prince’s matches.”

“I’ll be prepared,” I say, though I have no idea what I’ll actually tell her. That her son is still allergic to the idea of finding a wife? That I’m pretty sure he only asked me to “coach” him as a way to delay progress?

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