Page 52 of A Foreign Crown
“Yes, Princess Amelia’s passing. I am sorry for the family.”
Aribella nodded. “And it is not just that. If this morning’s reaction to news of the state of her health was any indication, the King will be in a bad state.”
“Is he not functioning like you’ve been saying?”
“He was, as far as I could see. The Queen assured me he was. And I am under directive to tell as many people as I can.”
“But... ?”
“But... I suspect he will not react well to the news of his daughter’s death.”
“I’d imagine not.” Prince Layton sighed. “I know this will make me sound like a cad, but I can’t help but think that this new upset will push back my ability to get any help at all for many months.” He closed his eyes and dropped his head to his hands.
The picture of defeat he made was so heart-wrenching that Aribella reached a hand out and rested it on his shoulder.
His body stilled. And then he reached his own hand up to place it over the top of hers. Compassion and understanding and a great peace seemed to pass between them. Then he released her hand. “You have been such a surprise gift to me here—a blessing I do not discount or take for granted.”
She lifted her chin. “And yet our circumstances—”
“Make our time together limited, strained, and full of risk.” He sighed. “I know. I’m sorry I have put you in an uncomfortable position with the Queen. It was never my intent.” He stood, reaching a hand down to aid her in standing at his side.
“And I you, in your pursuit of aid, the princesses...”
He looked away. “What do you suppose is expected of me there?”
“With the princesses?” Did he want to discuss such a thing with her? She hardly felt capable of a fair and just opinion.
“Yes. Do you suppose they are moving toward an alliance, an official joining of our countries, through matrimony?” He winced as he said the words.
“They very well could be working toward that aim—or at least
they were.”
“And would you do such a thing?”
“Pardon?”
“Would you pursue a marriage simply for financial or purely unromantic reasons?”
His question struck her to the very center part of her beating heart, for she’d assumed his situation to be entirely different from her own, but now, with one question, she was struck with the obvious similarities.
“I’m in a position, right now, much like yours,” she admitted.
His surprise was obvious. She watched a myriad of emotions cross his face before he spoke.
“And so you are.” His tone was flat, his face utterly still. And Aribella wondered for a moment if he were jealous. “He’s an honorable man, at least?” Prince Layton asked.
“I think he is—that I would be respected and cared for.” The more she talked, the more she recognized again what a good choice Lord Bartholomew would be for her, as much as her heart resisted.
“And you could remain on your estate.”
At Prince Layton’s words, she expected the elation and hope to return, reminding her how happy she would be to keep the estate in her family’s direct line. But none came. Instead, she let out a small puff of air. “Yes.” She looked away. “And Father would love that.” She stood, moving across the room to study the very intricate paintings and engravings on the red walls.
“Just your father?” His voice sounded nearer than she had anticipated. She turned to him, her heart responding to his nearness.
“And you’ve just hit upon the very thing I do not know. For years I’ve done nothing but attempt to save the estate, to nurse my father back to health, and to care for the servants. But...”
He lifted her hand and cradled it in his.
