Twenty
FRIEDRICH
An email comesthrough while I pace the library, a glass of whiskey in hand. I have no idea what to do about Aurelia. One minute, she was all hands and need and confidence, and the next, she was leaping from my bed like a beaten puppy presented with a rolled-up newspaper. And she clearly doesn’t want me around while she deals with whatever the fuck is going on. So I skim through the file Betsy sent over instead of drowning in worry.Too late.
My stomach sinks even further when I realize it’s the shortened, finalized list of the women who will be at the ball this weekend. I’ve had little say over any of this so far. After the cocktail night, the hopefuls were further whittled down by Mother and Father at a special tea with the queen and intensive interviewswith the king. Besides a very formal dinner at the palace just before Christmas, this ball is my first real interaction with many of these women, one of whom may one day be my wife.
There are several familiar names on the guest list, but one stands out like a flaming pile of worst idea ever. Lady Juliette of Bedford in England, the last woman I tried to have a relationship with before this whole farce started. Someone who I’ve done a great job of avoiding so far.What makes anyone think that putting her in this position again will make any difference?I thought going after the half-sister of Dietrich Maier—who’s married to one of my closest childhood friends—might be a safe bet. But it took only three dates for me to know she’s not the woman for me. I can’t place my finger on why, other than the fact that she’s too perfect. Lady Juliette is the perfect British lady, high on manners but low on lived experience. The long and short, she’s dull, and several months spent apart is not going to change that. Plus, I could never shake the feeling she wasn’t really interested in me as a person, just as the future king.
It’s hard for me to look at any of these women with an open mind when Aurelia is locked away in the bathroom. I pour myself another glass of whiskey and keep walking a trench in the antique rug of the library while I read about each well-bred woman. All forty of them.
An hour passes, and Aurelia is still missing. She’s far more important than these princess wannabes rightnow. Throwing my phone aside, I tiptoe back down the hall and listen at the bedroom door. I don’t knock or try to talk to her; I just want to hear anything from her, any noise that might indicate she’s alright in there.Of course, she’s not alright. Though I have no goddamn clue what happened earlier. I’m out of my fucking depth and I have no idea what to do, or how to handle this, but I can’t ignore the ache in my chest.
There are two women in my life who I trust to give me advice on female issues, and I’m sure as hell not calling my mother for this.
“Fritz, what is it? Is it Uncle?”
“No, Trix,” I say into my cell phone, now back to pacing the library. I finally told her and Miles about Father’s illness last week. They had both pretty much guessed already, and it was getting too hard to hide my concerns from my closest friends.
“Oh, shit,” my cousin lets out a deep breath. “Thank God. I got worried when you were calling.”
“This is more than a text conversation, Trixie.” I scrub my beard with my free hand. “I really fucked up, but I have no clue what I actually did.”
“Then how do you know you fucked up?”
I heave a sigh and tell my cousin the story, leaving out the dirty details. “Everything was going great, really fucking great. And then I…”
“Said I love you,” she supplies.
“What? No.”
“Did you make a weird orgasm face?”
I groan. “Beatrix, this is fucking serious.”
“Ooh, full naming me. Okay, serious. Please continue.”
“Thank you.” I flop on the couch in front of the fire, the book of Shakespeare still open on the rug next to the plate of forgotten gingerbread and cold coffee. “I came and she jumped up like I’d slapped her, and then she shut herself in the bathroom and she won’t talk to me and she hasn’t come out and it’s been over an hour.”
“Okay?” She drags the word out.
“So, what do I do?”
“Exactly what you’re doing right now, Fritz.”
“Pacing like a caged lion and mentally flagellating myself?” I promised her I would take care of her, make this arrangement a safe place for her to learn about the beauty of sexuality. This is my fault, and I don’t know how to fix it. And I hate feeling lost and powerless, and it seems I can’t escape the feeling, no matter which way I turn.
“I mean, if you think it will help, but it probably doesn’t, so no.”
“Wh—”
Trixie cuts me off. “Just give her space.”
“For how long? It’s not like she can completely avoid me. She’s got no other way home.”
“As long as she needs. If you try to push her to talk about it, you’ll only force her farther away from you. Obviously, something really upset her. I mean, I’ve only spent a few hours with the girl, but she’s a prettylevelheaded, rational kind of human. So, for her to react this way, it must be something major. But she also doesn’t seem the type to stay shut down.”
The rain is thrashing harder outside. I checked the forecast before taking off, of course, and this storm wasn’t supposed to roll through until tomorrow.Surprise!At this rate, we’ll be stuck here overnight; it’s too dangerous to fly in this. I’ll let her have my room for the night if she needs it, but I really fucking hope she comes to me before then.
