Graham was jealous twice over. Jealous of this wretched prince, for his ability to court Kunigunde. And incredibly envious that she enjoyed a world Graham had always dreamed of. An opportunity toberoyal, in real life, not in fantasy. Tolivethe fairy tale.
She let out a sigh. “The prince may be part of the royal party when the family comes to visit London. Reinald and Floris think it the perfect opportunity for me to spend more time with him. ‘Get him to finally say the words!’”
“So you’ll be…together…often…on your next voyage here?”
“We would be if I came as a companion, rather than a guard. He’s not a bad sort. It’s in part my fault we dance together so often. I am fond of him, so it is hard to say no.”
Graham would just bet. He clenched his jaw.
He did not even wish to glimpse this paragon of a prince, though there was likely no escaping it. Not now that he knew the scoundrel’s name. Visiting royals were always highly visible. Going everywhere, being shown off by Prinny and the queen.
People would fill the streets, eager to catch sight of them. People like Graham…usually.
But the thought of seeing Kunigunde in cozy conversation with this dancing prince she was “fond” of—and who undoubtedly wished to marry her—soured Graham on the idea of being a spectator.
“I’m sorry for this prince,” he said, “but you will not be his consort or anyone else’s, because you’re going to be Princess Mechtilda’s personal Royal Guard, no matter what.” He paused. “Right?”
“Right. Though Reinald and Floris think I should avoid explicitly rejecting his suit, as a contingency plan.”
No plan without a contingencywas the Wynchester motto.
There had never been a better time for an exception.
“No contingencies,” Graham said. “You definitely don’t need that prince. You’ll be dashed busy as a guard. Don’t forget you’re welcome to borrow any of the albums in my collection, if they should prove helpful.”
She frowned. “I do not need your help.”
“I know you don’t.” And she didn’t need that royal prince, either.
Not that Kunigunde-as-Balcovian-guard would put her any closer to Graham. For all he knew, the princess would be stationed in some far-flung turret somewhere and he’d never see Kunigunde again.
She waved a hand. “Let’s not talk about Prince Philbert.”
Right. Their intimate afternoon was veering off-course. They were discussing Kunigunde’s other suitors, despite Graham having explicitly said the reason for this tête-à-tête wasn’t to interviewher, but to let her come to knowhim. This was not what he had done.
He’d spent years collecting private details about other people. Facts, without any emotion attached. When it wasn’t your life, the past was simple. Just words on a page.
The one history he had never chronicled was his own. He had no wish to relive the dark parts of his early years—and no hope of forgetting them. For better or worse, they had made him who he was.
But she was here, before him, as he’d wished. Was he going to do as he promised, or not?
“I must say, being royal isn’t everything.” Kunigunde wrinkled her nose. “Iwould not choose it.”
Graham exhaled. “That’s because for you, it wouldn’t be much of a change. And because you already had somethingelseyou always wanted to be, besides royal.”
“Are you saying you always aspired to be…a prince? That doesn’t make sense. Royalty is a lineage. The direct descendants of monarchs, past and present.”
“Unless one has anillegitimateconnection.” He ran a hand over his curls and peeled back a layer of his past. “My mother was an acrobat in a traveling circus, and I never knew my father. Her skin was dark and beautiful like yours, but I came out this halfway color. Obviously my father was white, but who was he? Aristocrats had graced our performances. And since my father could have been anyone…”
Kunigunde’s eyes were sympathetic. “Oh, Graham.”
“I know,” he said with a sigh. “Now, at the age of nine-and-twenty, I have a realistic idea of how I might have been sired. But when I was five, six, seven, my imagination was bigger than the stage I performed on. And I wanted a father. What if he came to a performance and recognized me? What if he were a prince and whisked me away to a palace? What if he married my mother, and she became a princess, too?”
“Did your mother know of your fantasy?”
Graham nodded, then motioned for the footmen to leave the room. He’d never talked of this to anyone except his siblings and Bean. If Graham was going to reopen old wounds again, it would be with only one person listening.
“Mama knew the possibility of being important made me happy. It also kept me performing, and performing well. The ringmaster dealt out harsh punishments to those who failed to take the stage or did not live up to expectations.”
