Page 38 of Love & Letter Charms
“I see,” he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice without needing to look up. “Any other disqualifying attributes I should be aware of?”
Her blush deepened. “I … well, I am the youngest of the Crown Court Ladies. And?—”
“I believe Lady Floravine holds that distinction,” he said mildly. “You will be nineteen by Season’s end, will you not? Whereas Lady Floravine’s birthday does not arrive until midwinter.”
Aurelise hesitated, momentarily derailed by his unexpected knowledge of such specific details. Her gaze darted up and past his shoulder, and she was momentarily distracted by the sight of a palace attendant standing not too far away. Close enough to ensure propriety was maintained, yet far enough to provide the illusion of privacy. “Nevertheless,” she said, refocusing on the prince with renewed determination, “being so young?—”
“How does being young disqualify you?” He looked curious.
“Well, it—I am less experienced than most of the others, Your Highness.”
His lips curved into an amused smile. “I don’t believeanyof you are experienced in the area of being a High Lord’s Crown Consort.”
“I … I suppose not.” She was floundering now. “But I am likely the only one who might abandon a grand reception and flee into the gardens at the first opportunity. And probably the only one who doesn’t even like?—”
She stopped abruptly, mortification washing through her. Stars above, she’d nearly said it aloud.
“The only one who doesn’t even like … me?” The prince sounded thoroughly amused rather than insulted. “How refreshing.”
“No! I mean, of course not, Your Highness. I mean the—” Aurelise stared desperately at a nearby rose bush. “The palace. I don’t like Solstice Hall. It’s … big.” Her voice trailed off lamely.
“Big,” he repeated, his tone suggesting he was struggling not to laugh. “A keen observation about royal architecture.”
Aurelise wished the earth would take pity on her and swallow her whole. This was worse than any social disaster she’d previously endured, and that was saying quite a lot.
“You can relax, Lady Aurelise,” Prince Ryden said, his expression softening into something that looked remarkably like genuine warmth. “I have no intention of choosing you.”
“Oh.” Relief washed through her, leaving her feeling light-headed from the sudden release of tension. “Truly?”
“Truly.”
“Then—” She hesitated, hardly daring to believe this mortifying conversation might end precisely the way she’d hoped. “Might I be permitted to leave at the earliest convenience? Return to Rowanwood House, perhaps?”
A flicker of surprise crossed Prince Ryden’s features before he tilted his head fractionally, his expression turning thoughtful. “I could speak with my mother. Arrange something, certainly.However …” He paused, seeming to weigh his words. “There are certain considerations that might make remaining here the wiser course.”
Her relief evaporated. “What considerations?”
He glanced around momentarily. “I suppose there’s no harm in telling you, since the matter concerns your family directly. You strike me as someone capable of keeping a confidence, and there are no gossip birds within hearing.” He made a show of checking the nearby hedges, and Aurelise was relieved to see that Thimble and Spark had disappeared.
“The truth is, my mother selected you for your family’s sake, not because she ever considered you a genuine possibility for the role of princess.”
The words should have brought pure relief. Theydidbring relief—a loosening of the knot that had lived in Aurelise’s chest since the High Lady’s announcement. But beneath that relief, something else stirred. A tiny, irrational prick of … offense?
Which made no sense whatsoever. She agreed with the assessment entirely.
“Your grandmother requested it,” he continued. “Your family, while undoubtedly still prominent, is in somewhat of a … tenuous position.” He appeared to be choosing his words carefully. “To exclude you would have reflected negatively on your family and invited more speculation about … a certain Rowanwood.”
Understanding dawned, uneasy and heavy, threading through her like a chill. “Rosavyn,” she murmured.
“Indeed. Should you leave the Crown Court early …” Prince Ryden let the implications hang in the air between them.
She understood immediately. Her early departure would be seen as a slight, either from her toward the Crown or from the Crown toward the Rowanwoods. Either interpretation would fuel gossip that would inevitably circle back to Rosavyn’ssituation, making it even more difficult for her to find a gentleman of suitable standing who might overlook her delayed manifestation in favor of the Rowanwood name and connections.
“But if you truly wish to leave,” Prince Ryden added, “I will arrange it. I won’t force anyone to remain where they’re miserable.”
Aurelise drew in a breath. For herself, she would flee this palace without a backward glance. But for Rosavyn …
“No,” she said quietly. “Thank you, but … I’ll stay.”
