Page 32 of A Tenuous Betrothal
Even though Rhi had told the prince he was not needed to make these decisions, she could not deny his presence influenced her. She still hoped for his approval, but if she was going to make a wise personal decision, she needed to feel free to move forward with or without it. She sat up taller in her seat and announced to the carriage, “It is most definitely up to me. Let it be known he is a contender.”
“Even though he was noticeably angry with you because he forgot who had the king?” The prince frowned. “Who gets angry during whist, at a woman he is hoping to court?”
He made a good point. She hesitated and then nodded. “Even so, he was not overly angry. I must get to know him better before I make a rash judgment either way.”
Prince Marc said nothing else, but the smallest flick of fingers that were resting on his thigh said it all. She told herself she didn’t care about his disregard. She didn’t care if he would dismiss her thoughts as though they didn’t matter simply because she felt differently than he did. It was her life. She was the one who would have to live with her husband. And she especially need not concern herself with disappointing a man who was shirking his own duty.
Prince Marc stared out the window for most of the ride home. She knew because all four times she glanced in his direction, that was what he was doing.
She hoped for a renewal of their easygoing camaraderie.Stop. Stop thinking about the prince.She commanded herself to focus elsewhere. As she reviewed again her interactions with Lord Carmine, she knew she wasn’t really very interested. But she could be. She told herself she could be.
With those stubborn thoughts still lingering long after the day was over, she made her way up the stairs. On her dressing table was a sealed parchment. “Oh!”A letter from home.It must have been sent express shortly after they’d left. Attempting to steady her hands, she lifted the letter. As she broke the seal, she told herself that Cresselly was no longer home, not with her uncle running the place, that she’d escaped just in time. But she couldn’t help being anxious for any news from there. Mrs. Powell had written, and from the looks of her script, she was not overly practiced in using a quill. But no matter. It was discernible, for the most part, if Rhi looked past the misspellings, blots of ink, and smudges. Someone at the house must have helped her dear neighbor for it to have arrived so quickly. The more she read, the less pleased she felt. The news was worrisome indeed, and it left her with no discernible solution in sight.
Chapter Twelve
Marc awoke to loud familiarthumping up the stairs. The Wilhelm brothers never climbed stairs with anything other than thunderous sound. In the hazy partial sleep of morning, he thought he was home in his parents’ palace and his brothers were coming to harass him at the unearthly hour of daybreak.
His door burst open, and sure enough, filling the doorway and some of the corridor behind were his brothers Kristoff and Henri, only they were in London and not on the ship, where he’d left them. He jerked up in bed, confused for ten seconds, and then the fog cleared.
“You’ve come.” A wave of guilt flooded him as he came face-to-face with Father’s expectations. And then he pushed the guilt aside. Again.
Kristoff grinned and sauntered into the room, Henri following. “Father had a notion you might need some assistance. He told us specifically before we left not to stay in the shipyard an overly long time, and we were only too happy to oblige.” Kristoff sat himself down in a chair by the window and put one leg up on his other knee.
Marc frowned. Father was too involved in this process he’d sent grown men to handle.
They were each dressed in the British style like dapper Englishmen. Henri remained closer to the doorway, looking around the whole of the room. “So this is where you stay?”
“Bartholomew is generous as always.” Marc reached for his trousers and yanked them on, perhaps more energetically than necessary. “Why, again, are you here?” If he were following strict orders, he would have been on his way to the ship and on to Oldenburg while these coxcombs were arriving, having missed them entirely. “Would you have had me arrive at the ship only to find it bereft of the two of you and then come to find you were on your way to London?”
“But you didn’t. And we knew you wouldn’t.” Henri crossed his arms.
“Like I said, Father suspected you might need a little assistance.” Kristoff grinned wider.
“Looks like he was right.” Henri handed Marc a shirt that was hanging over the back of Kristoff’s chair.
When the valet entered, Marc waved him away. “Give me fifteen minutes.”
“Yes, Your Highness.” The man bowed and backed away.
Marc might as well get right to the crux of their questions. “I assume Father notified you of his plan, of which he told me nothing?” Before they could respond, Marc waved his hand. “She didn’t want to marry me.”
They widened their eyes, and Kristoff held a hand up to his mouth, as if that would hide his amusement.
Marc’s frown deepened. “It’s not like that. I didn’t want to marry her either. I’m assuming father informed you of the true nature of my assignment.”
Kristoff had the decency to allow a feather of sympathy to cross his face before clapping him on the shoulder. “He did. And I’m assuming you proposed and she turned you down.”
Marc gritted his teeth. He didn’t want to discuss all the particulars just yet. But then he relaxed his shoulders, looking from brother to brother, two of the people he cared most for in the world, and laughed. “But you’re here; this is the best news. Come here.” He pulled each brother to him in a quick embrace. “It is so good to see you, and now we may all enjoy the Season together.”
He turned to Henri. “You’ve not been here in years, of course. Nothing seems to have changed. And today...” He grinned wider. “This morning, we are going to Jackson’s for some pugilistic activity.” He rotated his shoulders. “I plan to win this year. None of these Englishmen and their weak, underhanded methods will get around me.”
“Underhanded. Says the man in charge of security.” Kristoff scoffed. “But I, too, am still burning from our matches at Jackson’s last Season.”
“Then, it’s decided. We leave as soon as Lord Carmine gets here.” Marc frowned.
“What’s this? Do we not appreciate Lord Carmine?” Kristoff eyed him curiously.
“He’s all right, for a gent. He’ll be great entertainment at Jackson’s.”
