His eyes twinkle, yet his tone is somber as he says, “Do remember your revenue is but twenty thousand pounds. Itsounds a ghastly sum to you, perhaps, but do not let your wife spend it all, hmm? It would have saved my parents countless arguments had my father been given the same advice.”
His Queen Mother is a known spendthrift, and King Francis has often bemoaned that even as miserly as both his predecessors lived, there will be no gold in the coffers by the time his son takes the throne.
“Thank you for your wise counsel, my Prince.”
“Be sure you heed it, Your Grace.”
I nod, but I am already distracted once more by my thoughts. The lady seems sweetly-dispositioned, and there is no denying she is comely—perhaps the loveliest lady in the Beau Monde. I only hope that once we are wed, I might at last be free of this bewitchment.
Chapter Two
Freya
“You look radiant, dearest.”
I try to mirror my mother’s smile but feel far from radiant, despite wearing the most spectacular gown I have ever gazed upon. It is the finest spun silk, threaded through with silver. Though I observe it only briefly in the looking glass, it is long enough that my every moment catches the light. The color enhances my creamy skin, making my eyes look brighter, and my lips deeper in color though they remain unpainted.
“Does our daughter not look radiant?” Mother asks.
“Quite,” my father returns, coming to stand next to her. Both resplendent in rich blue velvet and gold brocade, they beam at me as though they have never seen anything so much to their liking.
Normally, I enjoy basking in their pride, soaking up their praise, but I have felt queasy since breaking my fast. I do not even attempt to beg off—tonight is the biggest ball of the season, and many a match will be made. I suspect my father will come to an agreement with some such gentleman, and I will be betrothed before we depart.
My stomach gives a frightening lurch at the thought, but I force myself to remain calm and breathe through my panic until it settles.
“You have your dance card?” Mother asks, as though I could possibly forget such a thing.
“Yes, Mother.”
“You have saved Lord Pembroke a dance, I trust?” My father’s round face is positively jovial, and I now know his choice.
I suppose I will be Lady Pembroke within a fortnight.I carefully school my features to betray none of my internal thoughts.Quite dull, but he is good looking, I suppose. He is from a respected family, and of excellent breeding. In truth, I could do far worse.
“I shall go make certain our carriage is ready,” Father says. “Shan’t be but a moment.”
Mother turns to me as soon as he has gone, her lovely face twisted in worry. “What ails you?”
“Oh.” The question catches me unaware, and I find myself grasping for an answer that will satisfy her. “Nothing to concern yourself with, Mother, I must have eaten something that disagreed with me.”
The furrow in her brow deepens. Her blond hair is held back from her face and piled atop of her head. She has a way of fidgeting with loose strands when she’s thinking, and she attempts to do so now, as though forgetting her hairstyle. As she searches my face, her fingers worry at the air. “Truly?”
Her tone makes her disbelief clear and I struggle to maintain my composure under her shrewd maternal gaze. “Mama,” I say warmly, bestowing a word I have not used for many years. “For certain, I am well.”
The beloved name does not soften her visage; if anything, her eyes grow narrow. My mother is not one to be deflected, but she is so rarely troubled by anything I say or do, I tend to forget.
“You do not like Lord Pembroke.”
Thankful to have anything to latch onto, I nod. “Yes.”
“Well.” She tuts. “Your father asked you your opinion often enough. You said no man suited you.”
I nod because this, too, is true.
“But perhaps if you?—”
I shake my head. “No, Mama, do not worry yourself. I shall be just fine. I am certain the Lord Pembroke and I will get on well.” I am under no such illusion, however. After all, when he learns the truth?—
“What is this?” My father looks between the two of us, apparently grasping the serious nature of our discussion. “Are you ladies not yet ready to depart?”
