Was Theo still awake? What was he doing at this moment? Had he already moved on, assigned to another client, his brief connection with the Duke of Avaline fading into the backdrop of his professional experiences? Or was he, like me, standing at a window, replaying our final bitter exchange and wondering what might have been different if circumstances hadn't conspired against us?
I pressed my forehead against the cool glass, seeking relief from the persistent ache that thoughts of him evoked.
A soft knock at the door interrupted my melancholy musings. “Enter,” I called, expecting a hotel staff member with the turndown service I'd declined earlier.
Instead, Sébastien appeared, still fully dressed despite the hour. “Forgive the intrusion, Your Grace,” he said, his formal tone belied by the concern in his eyes. “I saw the light under your door and thought you might be having trouble sleeping.”
I gestured vaguely toward the bar cart. “Help yourself to a drink if you'd like. I could use the company.”
The admission of vulnerability, small though it was, felt significant. Before my time at Dove Canyon, I would have dismissed him with reassurances of my well-being, maintaining the carefully constructed distance between us. Now, after experiencing the freedom of genuine connection with Theo, the artifice of such distinctions seemed increasingly hollow.
Perhaps this was Theo's parting gift to me. Not just memories of our brief time together, but a new lens through which to view the structures and expectations that had defined my existence.
Sébastien hesitated, weighing the propriety of sharing a late-night drink with his employer against his concern for my well-being. Concern won out, and he moved to the bar cart, pouring two fingers of scotch for himself and refreshing my nearly empty glass. “How was your dinner with His Highness?”
“Illuminating,” I said dryly. “My brother is still determined to abdicate, though I've persuaded him to delay any official announcement.”
Sébastien nodded, taking a small sip of his scotch. “And you, Your Grace? How are you feeling about the possibility?”
I turned back to the window, watching the distant headlights of cars moving along the highways. “Trapped,” I admitted. “Cornered. As if I'm being maneuvered into a position I never wanted, with no graceful way to refuse.”
“A difficult position indeed,” Sébastien agreed. “If I may ask... what would you want, if the choice were truly yours?”
The question struck me off guard. What did I want? It seemed simple, yet I strained to clarify my desires. “I don’t know,” I confessed, the irony piercing. “I’m unsure how to even recognize what I truly want.”
“Not simple, by any means,” he replied, his expression earnest. “But necessary, perhaps. In my observation, the greatest source of unhappiness is not external constraint but internal confusion. Not knowing what one truly wants prevents an effective pursuit of it.”
I mulled over his words, a glimmer of clarity sparking. “If what I want conflicts with duty?”
“Assuming those paths must diverge is a miscalculation,” he suggested gently. “You are a man—human, with the right to seek fulfillment. The weight of the crown, should it come to you, might actually be easier to bear if shared with someone who brings you joy.”
Someone who brings you joy.The thought of Theo arose vividly, his crooked smile, the warmth of his eyes, the way he challenged me to see myself differently. In a fleeting moment, I imagined bringing him to Avaline, introducing him at court, standing together at formal functions. Absurd, of course. A sex worker from Texas, with no grasp of royal protocol…
But the fantasy shed light on a truth I’d been avoiding. With Theo, I’d been merely Ricard, not His Grace, not the duke burdened by expectations, but just a man with desires and the capacity for connection. “I met someone,” I finally admitted, confessing before I could reconsider. “While on holiday. A young man. A… commoner.”
Sébastien’s expression remained neutral, though a flicker of surprise danced in his eyes. “I see. And this young man made an impression on you?”
“More than I expected,” I admitted, my mind drifting back. “He saw through me more clearly than most. He made me question everything I’ve accepted as unchangeable.”
“That sounds significant.” Sébastien nodded.
“But also impossible. He’s young, American…”And a sex worker.The reality stung. “Completely unsuitable for a duke, let alone a potential crown prince.”
“Suitable by whose standards? The court’s? Your parents’? Or yours?” Sébastien’s eyes narrowed, pushing me to reflect.
I hesitated. By aristocratic standards, Theo was unsuitable, lacking pedigree or training for the life I must lead. Yet those standards felt arbitrary, vestiges of an outdated era. “It doesn’t matter,” I said, feelingthe weight wash over me. “We parted badly. He accused me of being afraid to claim my own happiness. Perhaps he was right.”
A silence hung between us, each of us lost in our own thoughts. After a while, Sébastien set down his empty glass, straightening his posture. “Will there be anything else, Your Grace?”
“No, thank you,” I said, feeling unexpectedly lighter. “You’ve given me much to contemplate.”
He bowed. “Good night, Your Grace.”
As he left, I returned to the window, gazing out at the sprawling Dallas skyline. The city glittered, a constellation of lights that reminded me of lives lived freely—falling in love, pursuing their own desires, unburdened by duty.
Tomorrow would bring fresh challenges, including the conversation with Remy about his future. I had to consider the fact that these decisions would be mine. Not mere obligations but possibilities waiting to be explored.
You’re the one who’s really bound up.
