“He’s not,” I confirmed with a long sigh. “The staff whispers about what all he’s not capable of doing. Frankly, their engagement feels more like a punishment for the princess.”
“I agree with you. It’s part of why I’m going to break the engagement for her.”
Intriguing. Prince James was obviously the type to meddle—for the better, fortunately. “Did she ask you for help?”
“Hmm, no, not yet. She doesn’t know me well enough yet to confide such things. But”—he held up a finger—“she’s my sister. I’ll look out for her. Gillespie marrying into the royal family will be a disaster. It’ll give him power he’s not suited to wield. He can do quite a bit of damage without any ill intentions.”
Relief swept through me. Yes, precisely the problem. I was glad Prince James was already aware of it. “I will aid you in whatever way I can.”
“I need more information.” His response was immediate, confident. “You said the staff talks about how incompetent he is. Give me more details.”
That seemed easy enough. “He has no concept of a budget. His retainer despairs of him, as he’s constantly going over budget and then whining like a child when he can’t impulse buy something. He’s completely incapable of dressing himself, even to the smallest degree. He’s banned from hunting because he can neither control a horse nor reliably handle a weapon without hurting himself or someone else in the process. Right before we left, he threw a complete tantrum because he wanted to get on a sailboat by himself. He’s never been on a boat in his life and has no idea how to sail or swim.”
Prince James stared at me for a second longer before making a disparaging noise. “I knew it was bad, but…are eating and shitting the only things this man is capable of doing?”
“I truly wish I could disagree but…well…yes?”
“Haaaaaa.” He listed sideways against the chair, eyes closed. “By Vuheia, how could anyone view him as a good marriage partner? What, does the Gillespie family have some kind of leverage against the queen?”
“Marchioness Gillespie and the queen are childhood friends.” My tone was desert dry.
“Oh. Yeah. That explains it. They’ve probably schemed about marrying their children together for decades. It’s poor Helena who’s stuck with the schmuck, though.” Shaking his head, he straightened once more. “Now I’m extremely determined to get her free of the man. Not quite sure how I’ll go about it.”
I felt rather stumped myself. I also found his investment in the situation a little…off. Well, no, his reaction was off. He didn’t seem surprised by how incompetent Gillespie was. So why was he asking? I mentally shook the thought away. “I think you should tell Princess Helena your intentions. She’ll be heartily glad someone is on her side. If I’m not mistaken, she’s been trying to subtly wrench herself free of this engagement for the past two years.”
“Hmm, yes, I’ll start there. Maybe she has an idea and just needs some support to pull it off.”
This man really intended to help his newly adopted sister. He had some political reasons for motivation, granted, but he was concerned for her as well. Prince James might well be one worth following. I’d sometimes questioned why I worked in the palace, but I stayed because of the excellent pay. Even if the people I served were lacking in many aspects.
But Prince James saw people. At least, he acted as if he did.
I felt compelled to give him a mini test. Just to learn him a touch more before deciding if he got my loyalty or not.
“What of yourself, Your Highness?”
“Hmm? In regard to what?”
“You said you want a husband. What qualities does this man need to have?”
His eyes crinkled up in the corners as if the question amused him thoroughly. “Are you going to play matchmaker for me, then?”
“I can at least point you to possible good candidates.”
“Well, I don’t mind answering the question.” He leaned in, his voice unhurried, warm, and his eyes…his green eyes pulled me in. The moment became strangely intimate as he answered. “He must be kind of heart, intelligent, capable. Someone I can absolutely trust. He doesn’t need to be societally handsome or anything of the sort. Beauty is transitory and I put no stock in it.”
I felt as if he were describing someone he already knew. This wasn’t a hypothetical wish but something he based on reality. I felt strangely trapped in his gaze and couldn’t explain why my own heart skipped a beat, why my face flushed.
He eased back in the chair, straightening, and the tension faded a notch. I was almost thankful for it.
Tapping a finger to his chin, Prince James tacked on, “Someone crazy enough to put up with me. I think that last part is the most challenging.”
Not once did he mention status or money. “Would you welcome any man who fit the criteria, no matter his birth?”
“Of course.” He snorted, like I’d said something silly. “I’m a bastard child. I can’t throw stones at that glass house.”
“You’re a prince,” I argued. “You can.”
“Now, Edwin, don’t paint me with that brush. Birthright is all stuff and nonsense, we both know that—purely luck of the draw. Being born nobility doesn’t mean you’re capable or worthy ofthe power you wield. Gillespie is a prime example. No, my only benchmark is I want agoodman as a husband.”
