Page 55 of A Tenuous Betrothal
Rhi’s smile was weak, but she did smile. “Thank you. And perhaps I’ll send a note asking Lord Carmine not to call. That should cost half thetontheir pin money.” She snorted. “I cannot believe they would do such a thing.”
“Nor I.” Sophie shook her head again.
When they arrived at the town house, they did just as Sophie had suggested. And instead of being frightened at the gothic scenes in the books, they laughed, and they made significant fun at Lord Carmine’s expense and complained of all men in general and all the gossiping women, until Rhi felt comforted and loved and worth at least a bit more than eighty thousand pounds.
Hours later, Rhi waited for Marc to come home. She sat at her bedroom door, watching the corridor through a partly opened crack, late into the night. It was during the wee hours of the morning, when she had dozed off leaning against her wall, that she heard boots in the corridor. She flung her door open.
But it was Prince Henri.
“Oh.”
He smiled gently. “Are you waiting up for Marc?”
“I, um... yes.” She dipped her head. “I wish to hear what happened with the robbers. Did they go to prison? Or the”—she hiccuped—“gallows? Is Prince Marc all right?”
Prince Henri bowed over her hand. “I’m sorry you have been troubling yourself over such things. We should have informed you or the house immediately so as to assuage any concern. He is well. The robbers are being deported, which is a merciful end to such a life. And tomorrow is a new day.”
“But where is he?”
“He’s sleeping on our ship, preparing to leave the harbor.”
“What?” Alarm shuddered through her. “He’s leaving?”
“Not tonight. Do not concern yourself. But someday soon, yes, he must leave.” Prince Henri’s eyes were gentle, but nothing he said gave her the information she desired. And the truth of his words sent a certain coldness to her fingers and toes. Marc must go. Someday soon, he would be returning home. Of course. And she would be left here alone with men of thetonwho had wagered for her hand. She slumped back against her door. “Thank you.”
“Please sleep. Might I send your maid to you?”
“No, no, I’m all right. Yes, I need to sleep.” She shook her head. “Good night.”
She shut the door behind her and tried to block out this newfound pain. Marc would leave. Of course he would leave. Had she been thinking that he would stay with her, as her own personal guardian, forever? He only would if she married him. And he didn’t want that. And she had to stay near Wales. She couldn’t desert her people. Not now, not ever.
But here in London she had another problem. What man would want to marry her after she caused them all to lose their bet? And she had no desire to marry a man who would bet on such a thing. She was in quite a spot.
How cruel to have Marc in her life, a man her father had chosen, the perfect person for her, except he was not at all free to marry. In her life but not hers.
What would she do?
She didn’t know.
And she couldn’t know, not until she felt better rested.
With her pillow wet and her body curled into herself, she fell asleep as the sun began to peek up over the horizon.
When she woke, for a blissful moment, she felt happy. Then a rush of yesterday’s events returned. Thoughts of the disappearance of Marc to his ship and the sure promise that he would leave shattered down around her. The weight of all those realizations showing up at once, first thing in the morning, was too much for her. She closed her eyes again, and when sleep didn’t return, she put a pillow over her head and moaned.
“Are you well, miss?” Catrin stood in the doorway.
“Yes, I’m well. I wish to rest though.”
“Yes, miss. The others are down at breakfast. Would you like a tray?”
“No.” She sat up. “I’ll join them. Quickly, please. Help me dress.”
“Yes, miss.” Catrin brought a morning dress, styled Rhi’s hair in a low bun, and wiped the sleep from her face.
It would do passably well.
Rhi rushed down to the breakfast room, but before entering, she was met in the corridor by a servant with the mail tray. “An express has come.”
