Page 49 of His Royal Matchmaker

Why is he doing this?

Inside, something is crumbling. For just a moment, with his arm around me and his body warm against my side, I’d allowed myself to imagine it was real. That this brilliant, dedicated man — who carries the weight of a nation on his shoulders and still remembers to thank every server who brings him food — could see me as more than a professional service provider.

I look across the room at the countess. She really would make him a suitable match. Educated, poised, charitable. I shouldwalk over there right now, make the introduction, and do the job I was hired to do.

Instead, I feel like I can’t breathe.

“I should…” My voice doesn’t sound like my own. “There’s the countess. I’ll go see if she’s ready to meet you.”

Hugo frowns slightly. “Are you all right? You look pale.”

“I’m fine,” I lie. “Just doing my job.”

His expression shifts, becoming more princely, more distant. “Of course.”

My heart pounds against my ribs like it’s trying to escape.Ineed to escape. This is ridiculous. I’ve matched hundreds of couples. I’ve watched them fall in love, get married, start families. I’ve smiled at their happiness while telling myself that someday it would be my turn. And never once have I fallen in love with a client.

Until now. Until Hugo.

“Excuse me,” I murmur. “I need some air.”

I don’t wait for his response. I hand my champagne flute to a passing waiter and make my way toward the French doors I spotted earlier. They lead to a balcony overlooking the gardens, and the cool evening air hits my flushed face as I step outside. Thank goodness, the balcony is empty. There’s no one to witness my breakdown.

My hands grip the stone railing as I take deep breaths. What am I doing? I should call Queen Julia tomorrow, make up some excuse about a family emergency, and recommend anothermatchmaker. I should book the first flight back to Los Angeles and forget I ever met Hugo.

What I’m doing here, this dance and game Hugo and I have going on, it’s dangerous. The only thing he is serious about is breaking hearts, and if I stay, it will be the biggest mistake of my life.

CHAPTER 20

HUGO

Iscan the room for what feels like the hundredth time tonight, nodding politely at another potential match whose name has already slipped from my memory. The crystal chandeliers above cast everyone in the same golden light, making it impossible to distinguish one smile from another. All I can think about is Emily — where she’s gone, if she’s still getting some air on that balcony, and why the thought of someone assuming she was my girlfriend keeps replaying in my head like a favorite song.

“Your Highness, have you met Fredericka?” A woman presents her daughter to me with the practiced grace of someone who’s rehearsed this moment for years.

“I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure,” I say, my mouth running on autopilot while my mind drifts.

The young woman curtsies, her blond hair cascading over her shoulders in perfect waves. “It’s an honor, Prince Hugo.”

I should be focused on this, but all I can think about is my matchmaker.

My matchmaker. The title seems absurdly inadequate for Emily. She’s more than that — she’s the woman who’s seen me at my most vulnerable, who knows what I’m looking for even when I don’t.

“Prince Hugo?” Fredericka’s mother prompts, and I realize I’ve been silent too long.

“Forgive me,” I say, taking the young woman’s hand and brushing my lips against her knuckles. “I’m afraid I’m a bit distracted this evening.”

After a few more minutes of small talk that I won’t remember tomorrow, I excuse myself and drift toward the edge of the ballroom. The balcony doors are open, letting in a cool breeze that feels like salvation after hours in the crowded room.

That comment earlier from Catherine — assuming Emily and I were together — is stuck to me like a burr. Such a simple mistake, yet it felt like a flash of clarity in a fog. The idea of Emily as my girlfriend doesn’t seem ridiculous or impossible. It feels… right. Like someone finally naming the feeling that’s been growing in me for days.

I lean against a marble column, watching the crowd but seeing only memories of Emily. The way she laughs with her whole body. How she tucks her hair behind her ear when she’s concentrating. The slight wrinkle in her brow when she’s about to disagree with me but is trying to be diplomatic.

I have never even wanted a relationship. Never had time for them. All the effort I have put into matchmaking since Emily arrived has been an attempt to throw her and my mother off, to make them leave me alone.

Or that’s what I told myself. The truth is, no one seemed worth the effort. No one until Emily.

It’s crazy. She’s my matchmaker. Mother hired her to find me someone else. But maybe that’s why it works — she knows exactly what I need because I’ve shown her, even when I was resistant to the idea. Because that is how smart she is; she sees through every façade, notices every sleight of hand. There can’t possibly be a woman in the world as smart as her.

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