A Princess In Waiting. Carol Grace
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“I didn’t mean to imply you were in any way helpless. Of course you have family and friends. I just meant…”
“I know what you meant,” she said, suddenly contrite. “I’m sorry I took it the wrong way. I don’t know what’s wrong with me these days. I get upset at the slightest thing. One minute I’m in tears, the next minute I’m laughing. My doctor says it’s hormones.” The concerned look on Charles’s face told her it was time to stop this conversation. She’d gone on way too long about herself and her condition. No man wanted to hear about a pregnant woman’s emotions or hormonal problems.
What was she thinking? She finally managed to murmur something about the queen and her duty and left him standing there. As she walked across the lawn she felt his gaze on her. He was probably wondering what on earth had gotten into her. Probably happy she’d turned him down. Who wants to marry an emotional basket case?
She kissed the queen on both cheeks, wished her a happy birthday and said something about how young she looked. At seventy-five, her face was unlined, and her eyes were still bright and alive with the spirit of someone half her age.
Lise retained her composure under the queen’s piercing gaze, answered her polite questions about her family, her work and her situation as best she could.
“How unfortunate it is that you’re divorced,” the queen said, tiny lines etched between her eyebrows. “Your father, if he were still alive, would be very displeased. He arranged this marriage for you with your future in mind. And now…”
Lise knew what she was going to say. And now, you have no future.
“Yes, Grandmama. Most unfortunate. But life is full of unfortunate events.” As if her grandmother didn’t know that. Everyone in the kingdom knew what she’d been through in the past fifty years—with more than one unfortunate marriage in the family. And now she was fighting to keep the country from reverting to Rhineland’s control by coming up with a missing heir. Missing because of her interference in her son’s affairs.
“What are your plans?” the old woman asked.
Plans. If only people would stop asking her about her plans. Wasn’t it enough to plan for the birth of her child? Lise smiled sweetly. “For the moment I am quite content in the cottage. I have Nanny…”
“She can’t be much help,” the dowager queen sniffed. “At her age.”
“Oh, but she is,” Lise said. “A great help.”
“And when the baby comes?”
“There’s plenty of room for the baby. The baby will fit in nicely.”
The dowager queen looked as displeased as if Lise had suggested putting the baby in a dresser drawer. “I was not referring to the square footage of the cottage,” she said stringently. “The best thing for you would be to marry again. As soon as possible. You can’t go on forever in a gardeners’ cottage. It isn’t suitable. It is most regrettable this situation has occurred.”
Lise fought off the urge to tell her to mind her own business. That another marriage was the last thing she wanted. But she knew better than to cross her grandmother. She needed all the support from the palace she could get.
“Yes, Grandmama,” she murmured.
“As you know we are searching for the missing heir to the throne. If we do not find him…” The queen broke off, but Lise knew what she was going to say.
If we do not find him, you will be without a home, money, protection from the palace, family or friends.
Out of the corner of her eye, Lise noticed that Luc Dumont, the man in charge of the St. Michel security force, whom Queen Simone had summoned to give the latest report on his search for the missing heir, was waiting for an audience with her. Lise knew anything she had to say paled in comparison to Luc’s information, so she excused herself.
All of St. Michel was consumed with this project. If the heir wasn’t found, and if Queen Celeste didn’t give birth to a boy, then Rhineland would absorb their country. As much as she hated to admit it, her grandmother had a point. Her future was uncertain. But so was her grandmother’s. In any case, that was not enough reason to consider marrying again.
With these sobering thoughts in her mind, she turned toward the ancient oak tree where Charles was waiting. From fifty meters away she knew he was looking at her. She felt the heat of his gaze even at this distance. She had an overwhelming desire to bolt. To disappear behind the palace and sneak through the servants’ entrance into the cool marble halls where she had once lived. How tempting it was to slip away into her childhood, when her father was king and her mother was queen. Before her mother had deserted them; before her father had remarried. When she didn’t have to worry about the future. When talk of weddings and royal alliances were far in the future.
She feared meeting Charles. She didn’t want to have the same conversation all over again. She knew this was not a meeting to enjoy refreshments and small talk. Charles was not the bully his brother was, but he had a determined look in his eyes that told her he hadn’t given up on her.
But she too had a determined streak. She would not let herself be talked into another disastrous marriage. No matter how many people told her it was a good idea. No matter who tried to frighten her into marrying for “security.” She squared her shoulders and walked steadily in his direction, repeating these words to herself.
Don’t give in.
You are in charge of your own life.
You are strong.
You don’t need a man in your life.
Don’t let him get to you.
You were married to his twin brother.
He only asked you out of a sense of duty. Yes, duty is important, but where marriage is concerned, next time, look for love.
You have lived as a princess. Your father was king. Royal blood flows through your veins. No one can tell you what to do.
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