But George was already picking his way along the grass. “I’m not sure you want to put this back on,” he warned, once he reached the hat. “It might need to be cleaned first.”
The wind whipped at May’s hair again, tugging a few ashen curls loose from their pins. She reached up to tuck them back. “Thank you. I still can’t believe I lost it like that.”
“I saw the hat fly away; I know that this wasn’t your fault.” A smile touched George’s lips as he added, “Unlike Louise’shat.”
May drew in a breath. “You remember that?”
It was back when they all used to vacation together at Chiswick, where brightly colored pebbles lined the shores of thelake. One summer when she was nine, May had spent days collecting her favorite stones, working tirelessly, silently, like a machine. And then when the bucket was nearly full, Louise had seized it and thrown the whole thing into the water. Simply to prove that she could.
Hurt and bewildered by the random act of cruelty, May had yanked the hat off Louise’s head and tossed it into thelake.
“Of course I remember. I always pay attention to…” He trailed off, leaving May to wonder if he’d been about to saypay attention to you.
“I was young and immature,” May began, but George shook his head.
“It’s so rare that Louise suffers any consequences for her actions. I’m glad you did it.” He hesitated a beat before adding, “Aside from that, we had fun at Chiswick, didn’t we? I miss those days.”
“As do I.” May’s family had stopped sharing holidays with the Waleses when their financial straits became too dire. She found herself wondering how things would be different if her parents hadn’t spent beyond their means. Would she and Maud have become friends sooner?
And where would things stand between her and George? Not that there was anything between them at all…was there?
“We should head back.” The prince gestured to his horse. “You’re welcome to ride, of course, though I doubt you wantto?”
“What do you mean?” May asked, and he shrugged.
“Just that you didn’t seem very keen on outdoor sports at Balmoral.”
It was true; May had hated the traditional Balmoralactivities. She’d complained of this in a letter to Agnes, who had replied that May needed to set aside her discomforts and do it all.You aren’t fishing for salmon; you’re a fisher of men—of a prince!Despite the sacrilegious nature of the joke, May had smiled in amusement, and gamely rode out with the group once or twice. But it was hopeless. She just wasn’t built for the outdoors, especially not the wild domain of Scotland.
May nodded. “Yes, I’m more suited to city pursuits than to the country. You seem to enjoy riding, though.”
George gallantly placed her hat atop the pommel of his saddle, then tugged at the reins, leading his mount uphill while May walked alongside him.
“I love riding,” he agreed. “There is something about it that makes me feel braver. Why else do you think men through history have commissioned portraits of themselves on horseback?”
“I thought it was just to make them seem taller. Napoleon being the best example,” May joked, and George chuckled.
“Taller, braver: those are often the same thing. It really is too bad we can’t ride horses into a ballroom; then perhaps I wouldn’t be such a disappointment at parties. Especially to Father,” George added, almost under his breath.
May was startled at the vulnerability of the admission. “I’m sure that’s not true,” she protested.
“He’s not malicious about it. I just know that our relationship would be easier if we had common ground.” George kept his gaze aimed downward, picking his way carefully back up the slope. “I’m sorry. This is hardly a topic for polite conversation.”
“It’s quite all right,” May said quickly.
“You must have no idea what I’m talking about. There’s no way your family could find fault withyou.”
It had been clumsily phrased, yet May recognized the statement as a compliment. She found herself longing to tell George the truth—that she knew all too well what it was like, struggling endlessly for parental approval you would never get. It was like fumbling around in the dark without knowing what you were looking for, struggling to answer a question you hadn’t been asked.
“I understand more than you might expect. I often fear that I am a source of bafflement to my parents. Even to Dolly,” she admitted.
“Really?”
May decided not to broach the subject of her father. “Like you and the Prince of Wales, my mother and I are…not very similar.”
George nodded, considering this. “And it must be harder on you as her only daughter. At least I have Eddy. Father spends so much time with him that he tends to forget how dissatisfied he is with me.”He tends to forget me altogetherwas the unspoken subtext. Yet George still soldiered on, trying to forge his own path forward.
In his quiet, steadfast way, George might be the strongest of them all.
