It did not sound like much of a bargain.
Life as a scandalous Wynchester in semi-fashionable Islington would be a far cry from the respect, riches, and high social status she enjoyed in bucolic Balcovia.
England didn’t contain any of the people or places she was used to. There was a different language, different food, different customs. Including many terrible ones. Slavery still being legal throughout the rest of the Empire, for example. Many aristocrats here owned plantations and human people elsewhere. It was not a good trade.
Graham would have loved to see where Bean came from and would leap at the chance for a short holiday. But like Kuni, he could never abandon his siblings. Nor could he turn his back on the good works the Wynchesters did here, where they were needed, just to coddle himself like a royal somewhere else where life was easy. He hadn’t been able to save his mother. He’d be damned if he failed to help anyone else who needed him.
“Fake Princess Mechtilda wouldn’t need an umbrella,” Elizabeth said, deadpan. “Her neck ruffle is wide enough to shelter an entire village.”
Graham wished he could share in the humor.
Much as the Throckmortens had treated the false princess, Graham supposed he had viewed royals the same way he’d hated to be seen in the circus: as entertainment, as a show, as a farcical drama to go and gawk at and be near, but never to think of as people.
From everything Kuni had said about Princess Mechtilda’s lack of independence, being royal did not sound as marvelous as Graham had once imagined. Of course he wouldn’t mind the palaces, and the prestige, and the luxury…but at the cost of his free will?
Bean had not dictated the siblings’ lives. Nor did London’s high society possess any hold over them. There were no vouchers to Almack’s for the Wynchesters, but they could do and live as they pleased. There were no rigid roles to undertake, no pomp and circumstance to adhere to, no forced marriages for strategic political alliances, regardless of one’s personal interest.
Graham was free to love anyone he pleased.
And he’d chosen the one person he could not keep.
Although Kuni’s brothers did not seem to understand their sister, she’d grown up with Princess Mechtilda. The princess had spent years aiding and abetting Kuni’s wish to train with the soldiers so that they would be together forever. Why leave such a staunch, understanding friend?
And then there was that damnable prince.
He wished she hadn’t told him the scoundrel’s name. He didn’t want to know anything about Prince Philbert or obsess about all the things royalty could offer Kuni that a mere Wynchester could not. All the things Balcovia could offer that England could not.
As far as Graham was concerned, Kuni was everything he’d been looking for. But the fairy tale was over. All he could do was watch her leave.
The ship sailed around a bend. That was it. Kuni was gone.
He felt the loss deep in his soul. He no longer wished to be a long-lost prince. He wanted to be chosen for himself. To be acceptable, just as he was. To offer everything he had, and have it be enough.
“I’m sorry,” Faircliffe murmured.
Graham nodded, but could not speak. He was still staring at the spot where he’d last seen the ship.Shouldhe have gone with Kuni, when she asked? Was that his one chance at love, and he’d let it sail away?
“Is that your poetry album?” Jacob asked quietly. “You tried to give it to her, and she wouldn’t take it?”
“No, it’s…” Graham didn’t knowwhatit was. He lowered his eyes from the empty horizon. Kuni couldn’t see him now, anyway. He opened the journal to the first page.
BALCOVIAN ENCYCLOPEDIA
FORGRAHAM & FAMILY
FROMKUNI, WITH LOVE
A little choking sound escaped his throat. He turned the pages, slowly, then faster.
List after glorious list of the provinces, the shires, the towns. Names and descriptions of important people. Royalty and aristocracy, past and present. The name of the head cook in the royal castle. Ada, Kuni’s lady’s maid. The genealogy of Kuni’s family, as far back as she knew it. What her father had looked like. The sound of her mother’s laughter.
Menus. A disclaimer that Kuni had never actually tried to cook anything, so there were no recipes to accompany the dishes. Little drawings to show how it looked fresh from the oven, or how courses were arranged during royal feasts.
The history of Balcovia. What those same lands had been like under Dutch rule. What the citizens had fought to achieve. How the abolitionists and the duke who became Balcovia’s first king relinquished their share in the Dutch East India Company in exchange for independence. How it hadn’t been quite that simple, and many lives were lost.
“It’s an encyclopedia of Balcovia,” he said in wonder.
Maps. Where the major rivers were. How to find the Winter Castle, the Summer Palace. A schematic drawing of Kuni’s private chambers. The location of her bed. Where she lay her head upon the pillow.
