Page 13 of Promised to the Swedish Prince
Throughout the long sea voyage from Sweden, he had done his best not to think about what he would do if he discovered Erika had changed over the past years. That she no longer welcomed the idea of his affection. He couldn’t bring himself to even consider the notion that she may well have resigned herself to becoming Gustav’s wife.
His head and heart both refused the idea. It was impossible. It had to be.
As he stuffed his hands into his pockets, his fingers touched the edge of a piece of paper. He took the note out and unfolded it.
Baron Gotthard Mauritz von Rehausen.
17 Manchester Square
Marylebone, London, England
The Swedish envoy was hopefully going to be in for a pleasant surprise. A prince of the realm was shortly to arrive on his doorstep, official letters of introduction in hand. While King Charles had entrusted Christian with the task of securing the trade agreement with Britain, the baron and Count Jansson’s assistance would be crucial.
Christian let out a slow breath. He had left Stockholm with all manner of grand plans and intent, but now, seeing the sheer size of London, a sense of uncertainty threatened.
Trust in yourself but work closely with the others. You know the process of negotiations, and they know the English.
If only his father and brothers could see him now. Prince Stefan would scowl and command him to succeed for the sake of his family and his country. Gustav, no doubt, would sneer and say that his self-doubt was evidence enough that he was a silly little boy who should have stayed at home.
And miss this opportunity? Not a chance.
He slyly smiled, recalling the look of pure envy on his brother’s face when Christian had announced he was to leave for England. It had almost made up for all the years of enmity between them.
“Though I think she might like you better than whatever it is Gustav has sent in that heavy box in my cabin.” He bent and gave the black and white Swedish Lapphund he had brought with him a friendly scratch behind the ear.
“Look, Freya. We are in England—our new home.”
Freya nuzzled against the side of Christian’s coat. He chuckled. She knew exactly where he kept the spare pieces of dried deer meat. After pulling one out, he laid it flat in the palm of his hand. The dog lapped it up with one lick of her tongue. She chewed it with undisguised relish.
He picked Freya up in his arms and proceeded to point out some of the tall buildings which ran along the riverside to her. “Look at all those warehouses. According to my father, this is the busiest port in all of Europe. A very important place.”
A place where a young ambitious prince could make his mark.
What he had seen so far of London reinforced what he had read about it. It was a much bigger city than Stockholm. His hometown could fit inside it many times over. It would take some getting used to being in such an enormous and crowded place.
“Stockholm has a population of seventy-five thousand people, but London has almost one and a half million. Can you imagine it, Freya? I’m not sure if I can.”
The Lapphund stared out over the water. She appeared to be far more interested in the goings-on along the river than anything Christian had to say. He smiled knowingly as he stroked her fine, shiny fur coat.
In his cramped cabin was the solid wooden box which Gustav had entrusted to him to deliver to the countess. Christian had no idea what was inside the cleverly sealed gift, but he would bet the royal crown jewels that it wouldn’t be anything special. Or at least nothing that would win Erika’s love.
He had picked it up several times and noted its heavy weight. If Gustav was true to his usual self, there would be books inside. Heavy works which covered such riveting subjects as crop rotation and the management of estate tenants. His own gift had been strategically chosen.
Freya was his secret weapon in the fight for Erika’s heart.
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Chapter Seven
Erika stepped down from the carriage as the Northern Lion drew alongside the huge dock at Wapping, East London. A wide grin sat on her lips. She loved to watch the ship arrive, to hear the laughter and chatter of the Swedish sailors as they threw out the ropes.
On the deck, the captain signaled a friendly wave to her.
“Välkommen!” she cried.
Another fair-haired figure standing next to him, turned and waved. Erika’s mouth opened on a small ‘O’ at the sight. She leaned forward, squinting to get a better look.
“No. It couldn’t be. Could it?” she muttered.
