A suspicion crossed her mind, and she glanced over at Eddy. “Byeveryone,did you mean Grandmama?”
“Well…” Eddy seemed at a loss. Then he smiled as if suddenly understanding. “I do want to court you, Alix. What does it matter if it was Grandmother’s idea first?”
She should have known. Queen Victoria was the puppet master silently arranging all their marriages, scattering her children and grandchildren across the thrones of Europe like pieces on a chessboard.
Before she could help it, the truth spilled out of her lips. “How can you want to court me when we aren’t well matched?”
The moment she’d said it aloud, Alix winced, but Eddy seemed unbothered by her observation. He kept moving, leading her around a marble fountain where a goddess—Persephone, most likely—was forever strewing stone flowers.
“I know our temperaments don’t align, but that’s precisely why wearewell matched.” Eddy said this without an ounce of compunction; if anything, he seemed pleased. “We complement each other so well. The best marriages are when each partner has different interests, different strengths.”
Alix thought of her parents, both quietly joyful, both soft-spoken, who’d been extremely happy together before her mother passed. She wasn’t certain Eddy was right.
“You’re so beautiful,” he added warmly. “You’ll be a spectacular queen.”
Queen. OfEngland.
Somehow in all the shock of Eddy’s words, Alix hadn’t thought that far ahead, to the fact that he would someday beking.
Her breaths came faster, shallower. She clenched her hands into fists so tight that her nails dug into her palms, willing herself not to fall into one of her episodes. She had no desire to reveal that side of herself—her sickness, her brokenness—to Eddy. He would never understand.
“I’m sorry, but I—I don’t know,” she stammered.
For the first time, a wounded expression flickered over Eddy’s features. “You don’t know,” he repeated. She heard the unspoken subtext:You, the princess of a minor German duchy, aren’t sure about becoming queen of the greatest empire on earth?
The sun was beating down on her; Alix felt sweat gathering at her brow, along her armpits. She felt like she was falling backward, off a cliff into some chasm of shock. Oh god. She was going to descend into the familiar dark panic, right here in front of Eddy—
“I’m sorry. This has all taken me by surprise.” Miraculously, Alix found the strength to sound calm.
“Of course. It’s a big step,” Eddy agreed. “Which is why we need to make our courtship more formal, to give you time to adjust to it. You’ll sit with me at the opera tomorrow, won’t you?”
She nodded, and he flashed her a blithe smile, tucking his hands into his pockets.
“Wonderful. Well, I’ll give you a moment.” Whistling cheerfully under his breath, Eddy started back toward the terrace.
Alix watched him go, a bee droning in the rose trellis behind her.
What happened today wasn’t a proposal,she reminded herself. He hadn’t gone down on one knee, didn’t have a ring. All Eddy had done was ask to court her.
But they both knew where such a courtship would lead.
Could she go through with it—marry Eddy, become queen someday? Alix tried to imagine being like Aunt Alexandra, and then someday like Grandmama, living an excruciatingly public life. Everyone in the country, in theworld,would know her name. She would ride in parades and wave from balconies, and each time she walked through a doorway, the entire room would fall silent.
And she would do it all as Eddy’s wife. The reality hit her like a blow to the stomach: she would wake up with him, go to sleep with him, sit across from him at breakfasts and dinners. Eventually, though it was hard for Alix to imagine, she would have children that were half Eddy and half her.
He was handsome, of course. And good-natured, and entertaining. Yet it felt inexplicablywrong,as if she were shoving a puzzle piece where it didn’t fit.
Alix slumped down to sit cross-legged on the ground, for once not caring that her dress would get grass stains. She braced her hands on the sun-warmed earth, wishing that shecould cry, but no tears came.
She never cried anymore, not since the awful thing she had done all those years ago. Perhaps that was how grief worked. When you’d done something truly horrible, every other unhappiness paled in comparison. Even the prospect of marrying a prince you didn’t love.
CHAPTER FOUR
May
MAY HELD HER BREATH ASshe walked down the staircase, her hands tightening over the wooden railing. Maybe this time she could escape unnoticed—
“Mary Adelaide? Is that you?”
