Page 71 of A Foreign Crown
Layton didn’t think he’d ever recover from the emptiness that was left in her absence.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The royal household lost allits splendor for Aribella when Layton left. By now his ship was out in the water, hopefully accompanied by enough of the British navy that he could come off victor in any skirmish at sea and that he would be able to defend his own borders.
She’d lost the imprint of his lips on hers, but if she closed her eyes, she could still remember the way he smelled, the desperate manner in which he’d captured her pliable, willing heart. She’d returned his kisses with an eager sort of sadness—she didn’t even care if it made her seem wanton—and they had ended all too soon. Ended with no promises, no hope for the future—just a maddening clinging to duty, hers and his.
Today Aribella sat in a front sitting room back at Windsor. Princesses Mary and Elizabeth sat at different tables, involved in various pursuits. Aribella had not cared to ask precisely what had Princess Mary writing so intently on multiple parchments full of words. A few of the other siblings joined them, having come with them from Prince George’s celebration at St. James’s. The needlepoint in Aribella’s lap remained untouched. She couldn’t find the energy to lift the slip of fabric and create something beautiful.
The Queen came rushing in. Aribella stood, and Queen Charlotte waved her to be seated. “Girls. Mary. See this? See what I’ve just received?”
Aribella studied them. Princess Elizabeth rushed to join her mother at
Princess Mary’s side.
“See here—this is the best news. I’ve received a letter from the Wilhelm family.”
Aribella pressed a hand into the sudden movement in her stomach.
“It is dated more than a month past, but you will never guess what
they say.”
“Tell me.” Mary turned self-satisfied eyes on her mother.
But Elizabeth quickly began reading the letter aloud over her mother’s shoulder. “We are so pleased to hear of a mutual interest developing in our children. Mary and Elizabeth both are well-thought-of in any circle and would be an excellent choice for our son. Please, let us keep one another informed, and do send my love to your daughters. I have not yet heard which daughter prefers him.” Elizabeth turned her nose up. “Well, we both prefer him, now, don’t we?”
“Of course we do, but he gives me preferential treatment.” Mary’s airs were unappealing to any who suffered from her overexuberance—namely, Elizabeth and Aribella. Both returned to their previously non-engrossing tasks, feigning disinterest.
Mary returned to her seat, and Queen Charlotte sat beside her. “You must write to him.”
“I am, Mother—sheets and sheets.”
“All that? Perhaps I might read it first.”
“What? No, how mortifying! No. There’s nothing that takes love out of a romance more than someone’s mother becoming involved.”
“But I do think you might misunderstand things and perhaps communicate more than necessary.” Queen Charlotte’s eyes lifted to Aribella.
She groaned inside, knowing what the Queen was about to suggest.
“Might Aribella take a look, perhaps advise your words?”
“Oh yes!” The delight Mary took in such a suggestion put Aribella further on edge, but she lifted her eyebrows, awaiting her assignment.
“Excellent. Aribella, will you read what Mary has so far and perhaps help her communicate the same onto one sheet?”
Aribella hid her amusement at the carefully worded request and nodded, standing, trying to prepare herself for yet another trying assignment from the Queen.
Lord Bartholomew would be taking her to the opera this evening. The Queen had given Aribella leave to be courted if she so desired. While Aribella had not yet responded officially to him, he was moving forward and showing in the most obvious manner that he would like to pursue her, and she was getting some subtle hints that perhaps he was even interested in more than a convenient arrangement, perhaps a love match.
It was troubling, for Aribella knew she might be able to marry him as a matter of convenience, an agreement between friends to save her estate, but to enter into such an arrangement with one who wanted love? She didn’t know if she could stomach it. Not at the moment, not with Layton’s kiss so fresh in her mind.
Layton’s kiss.
She sat beside Princess Mary with a blank face, hoping she hid all evidence of the abhorrence of the task ahead.
And true to Aribella’s expectation, the first line read,To my most cherished and loved prince of my heart, Layton.
