Page 59 of A Foreign Crown
“You’re the one most recently attacked by the ruler of England.”
He snorted. “Albeit true, I would still like to hear how you are.”
“I am well, I suppose.” She lifted a finger to wipe beneath her eye.
Layton immediately reached for his handkerchief and offered it to her.
“I must be a bit overwhelmed. So much has happened. You just now. And the King. I have been... my assignments weigh on me. And great sadness follows me everywhere I turn. Princess Amelia was so sweet, by all accounts—such a vibrant soul. I find I’m saddened by her passing.” She dabbed at her face.
“You have the right of it. All of this difficulty with the King is distracting from a time of mourning the young girl deserves.”
“Would you like to look on her portrait?”
“I would, yes.”
She stood and took the arm he offered. Then she led him through the house to the portrait gallery. “She was quite the favorite, from what I understand.” They walked along the ancient family line, and while enjoying learning of the royals of England, Layton appreciated anew his own family. The sense of responsibility, the crown being passed from one to another in a line for generations—the feeling was palpable, the responsibility great. He walked taller, his shoulders broader.
They approached the more modern families and then came upon a portrait of Princess Amelia as a little girl, sitting, one bare foot showing from beneath her skirts. Her face held an impish smile. “Oh, but she’s enchanting, isn’t she?” Layton laughed to himself. “And her foot; what a fun representation.”
“She was apparently very lively, the charmer of the family. Everyone loved her—courtiers to servants to the people, even. But most of all her father.”
Layton’s throat constricted. “When viewed in that manner, his attack on my person could be viewed as a tragedy, the sorrow of a desperate father.”
Lady Aribella brought the handkerchief back up to her eyes. “So true.” She waved it in the air. “This one up ahead shows their personalities, I think.” She led him to a portrait of what looked like the three youngest daughters.
He laughed. “And this one is Princess Mary?”
“Yes. The youngest daughters were always a handful, I gather, and their upbringing was much less rigid than the others’.”
“How many children does the family have?”
“Fifteen. Obviously not all are living, but thirteen have lived to adulthood... twelve now.”
He nodded. “I can well imagine the King’s grief to be so immense as to steal his faculties.” Layton reached for Lady Aribella’s hand.
They made their way on a makeshift tour of the house for lack of anything else to do. Lady Aribella told him she had no desire to disturb the family in their grief, and Layton had nowhere to go. But after a time, he pulled out his timepiece. “I imagine I need to leave. The family has no need of a visiting dignitary during this time of grief.”
Her soft sigh made him smile.
“Shall I take that sigh to mean I shall be missed?”
But the gaze she lifted up to meet his was tinged with sorrow.
“And what is the cause of this new sadness?” he said.
“The reminder that you live so very far and will one day be taken from me.”
He studied her face, unsure how to approach the thoughts that were begging to come tumbling forth. “And what if we could somehow manage a way to live closer to one another?”
The responding skepticism on her face gave him little hope, and yet he would move forward with that goal in mind, for he didn’t know how he could ever live without her now, knowing the sweetness of life with her at his side.
“I, my dear Lady Aribella, will do all in my power to make it so.”
Her eyes widened, and then she blinked back tears. “Then, I shall wish you the greatest success in your efforts.”
He pressed his lips to the back of her hand, and the gesture carried promises unspoken but raging through his mind. As soon as he was free to do so, he would make them known. Until then, he would work to aid his country while remaining unshackled to the English throne so that perhaps, one day, he might move toward a life with the amazing woman before him.
Chapter Nineteen
