Chapter Text
As far as engagement dinners went, Darcy doubted hers could get much worse. Her groom, Prince Steven, refused to look at her and instead glared down at his plate. King Wilhelm and her father discussed business, still hammering out the details of their agreement, and nearby courtiers stared at her as if she was a filthy urchin. Her skin prickled under the weight of their stares; she knew she was being weighed, measured and undoubtedly found lacking. Darcy suspected they all had daughters they’d hoped to marry to the prince. Were it her choice, she would have gladly given them the chance.
Darcy watched the servants change out the wine for the next course and wished for a moment she could indulge, but propriety kept her in check. Wine always loosened her tongue, and she couldn’t risk causing a scandal. As it was strong words pressed against her teeth and it took everything in her to not release them as she watched the prince pout. While she would concede he was more handsome than she expected, his manners were atrocious. He wasn’t even pretending to enjoy himself. Meanwhile, her pleasant expression felt stiff and artificial, she’d held it in place for so long. It rankled that she was required to act as if nothing was wrong while he could behave like a spoiled brat.
Darcy shifted in her chair, hoping to loosen the laces of her corset. It did little good. Mrs. Krause, her governess, had insisted she be tightly laced, so no matter how enticing the meal was, she could only pick at it. A shame really, as even in her mood, Darcy was impressed by the lavish dinner. That it was occurring at all was equally impressive, given Sachsen was on the verge of financial ruin.
I just need to get through the meal. Unfortunately, Darcy knew that to be a lie. Dinner was only the beginning. Next came dancing and at some point, in the not-too-distant future, a wedding. The thought made her throat tighten and she swallow hard. The rest of her life loomed before her–just one long, drawn-out, awkward dinner after another.
Inhaling slowly, Darcy ran her hand across the tablecloth, admiring its pattern. While it appeared to be a simple cream cloth, upon closer inspection, one could see flowers and vines weaving their way up a trellis. Its subtle texture grounded her, yet her hands still trembled. Determined not to show weakness, she balled them into fists and pulled them into her lap. There were too many present who might use it to their advantage.
Upon hearing her father laugh, Darcy smiled. It was a celebration, after all. As the laughter continued, her lips tightened against her teeth, and she hoped it didn’t look as brittle as it felt. Her saving grace was that no one expected her to speak. Instead, she struck a demure pose and kept a bright, friendly expression on her face. Whether or not she liked it, she was marrying. She was nothing more than a bargaining chip to be played as her father saw fit.
A choice as to who she would marry had never been an option for Darcy. She knew that. Yet when her father had informed her of her engagement, she had argued vehemently against it. She wasn’t ready to give up the little freedom she had as a single woman. The conversation hadn’t played in her favor. A subtle shiver ran through her as she recalled his response: marry or be cast out to find her way on the streets. With no money of her own, it wasn’t a threat she could take lightly. At best, she might find a place as a governess, but what would become of her in the time it took to obtain such a position?
It was only after Darcy’s father admitted that he had lent the bulk of his fortune to Sachsen, and that he would be ruined if the kingdom defaulted on the loan that she conceded. She couldn’t stand by and watch him lose everything he had worked for and she was well aware if that came to pass, she would join him in poverty.
Darcy’s marriage would serve two purposes: to elevate her father’s position within the kingdom, and to be a partial payment on the loan. She knew he was looking forward to joining the king’s council and being given a title, just as he would take pride in her becoming a princess. It was hardly a ringing endorsement for marriage, but it occurred to her that marrying a prince might have its advantages.
Darcy was not naïve; it was no small thing to hold the title of princess. With time, she would weld some power within the court. Especially if she could gain her husband’s ear, subtly influence him and, in turn, the kingdom. Her position could also open doors that were closed to her as a commoner. It was unlikely she could study at the Royal Academy of Sciences, however; it was possible that the scientists would correspond with her if she held a title and could offer patronage.
So, while it left a bitter taste in her mouth, Darcy agreed to marry Prince Steven. There were worse options.
In return for agreeing to marry, Darcy’s father indulged her peculiar interest in astronomy and bought the academy’s latest works on the topic. The dry tomes were usually reserved for scientists who argued over Newton’s experiments on the refraction of light and whether suitable combinations of lenses could create the perfect telescope. It was not a topic young women were encouraged to take an interest in, yet stars had intrigued Darcy from an early age. It was a byproduct of her extensive education. She had learned to ask questions and to look for answers from the best sources. When tutors introduced her to the writings found only at universities, she had craved more. Her father hadn’t discouraged her interest, but it was clear she could never enter formal study.
Besides gifting her with books, her father insisted Darcy have a trousseau appropriate for a young woman marrying into royalty. He had spared no expense and showered her with every finery - her cupboards were filled with the finest silks and satins. She preferred dresses with simpler cuts and fewer frills but agreed to the elaborate gowns, as they were expected of a prince’s fiancée. She had eschewed some aspects of high fashion for her own sake of propriety, opting for more modest cuts than was fashionable.
Tonight’s evening gown was a softly draped blue and white silk, embroidered with gold details along its edges. Darcy’s shoulders were bare, but the cut of her top was less deep than was in fashion and she wore fewer ruffles, as there was no need to accent her already ample bosom. Oh, she knew it would play in her favor to draw attention to her generous figure, but she felt her attributes were clear enough without being put on display. She knew her worth, and it was more respectable to hint rather than reveal her many curves. Her figure was not the only thing about her worth noting.
Darcy would never describe herself as beautiful given her strong jaw and generous lips, but she knew she was striking. Her blue eyes, dark hair, and soft pink complexion added to her allure. Anyone taking the time to speak with her soon learned there was a sharp mind behind her pretty face as well. In combination, Darcy knew she had the makings of a perfect wife. The question remained, however, whether the prince would think so.
Darcy glanced surreptitiously down the table at her intended, fascinated despite herself. Prince Steven cut a debonair figure with his blond hair, fit form, and fair face. His appearance met and exceeded every expectation one could have in a fiancé, but his behavior perturbed her. I wonder what bothers him most: being sold to cover his kingdom’s debt or having to marry me?
Darcy heard her father laugh again and fought to maintain a placid expression and not give in to the impulse to glare. Once more, she wished there was a way to stop the wedding. At least the prince and I’ll have something in common. We both have fathers willing to sell us. Unfortunately, it was unlikely that Prince Steven would see their situation in the same light. She suspected he would hold her responsible for the sins of their fathers. Her one saving grace was that the prince had to be aware he would never marry for love - political and economic alliances were too valuable to waste on something so frivolous. Still, based on his behavior, she assumed their engagement was quite a blow to his pride.
Pride wasn’t something Darcy could afford. She needed to win Prince Steven over, by whatever means necessary. Given that she was being forced upon him, she doubted it would be a simple task. Somehow, she needed to get the prince talking, and then she needed to show him that she was intelligent, but not so smart as to upstage him. The very idea appalled her. She was unaccustomed to playing dumb and dreaded the thought she might have to for the rest of her life. Darcy frowned as she took in the rigid set of the prince’s shoulders and his tightly clamped jaw. These were not signs he would be receptive to her overtures or accepting of her intellect.
Still, she had to try. Darcy fidgeted with her crystal water goblet and leaned forward to catch the prince’s eye. He was glowering down at the table and ignoring his father’s increasingly not-so-subtle suggestions that he ask her to dance. She gritted her teeth and strained to maintain an inviting expression. Just as she was ready to give up, Prince Steven raised his head and glared at her with cold, flinty eyes. Anger rolled off him in waves and she shrank back in her chair, vainly hoping she could escape him.
The likelihood that the evening would go well was slipping away and Darcy fumbled for her tiny nosegay, looking for something to hide behind. It angered her that the prince had scared her, if only for a moment. She ducked her head to hide her face and closed her eyes to ward off tears. The fresh honey-like scent of the flowers calmed her, yet she despaired over them. Her posy was made up of grape hyacinths, which were used to signal an interest in romance, and white snowdrops which were a sign of hope and purity. As symbols, the flowers did little good if their intended audience wasn’t receptive to their carrier.
Before Darcy could gather herself, she felt a presence at her side and, with a sinking heart, looked up into the grim blue eyes of the prince. He was resplendent in the traditional red dress coat of the army, with a light blue sash to show his status as a prince and many medals to celebrate his valor. He towered over her and, with barely veiled hostility, said, “We haven’t been formally introduced. I am Prince Steven of Sachsen, Duke of Marienburg, Marquess of Greater Celle, and Earl of Brunswick.”
Darcy swallowed hard as she set her flowers aside and rose from her chair on trembling limbs. She offered Prince Steven a small curtsy and gave him her hand with a smile more confident than she felt. “It is an honor to meet you, Your Highness. As you know, I am Darcy Lewis.”
Face pinched in distaste, Prince Steven took Darcy’s hand and made a show of kissing it, not quite bringing it to his lips, and then dropped it as if were hot to the touch. She ignored his rudeness and clutched the back of her chair as she strained to remain serene. They were setting the stage for their future, and it had to go well for all parties concerned. A tense silence fell between them, and Darcy stood awkwardly before the entire court. Her smile tightened and time dragged as she waited for the prince to do something! Protocol dictated that, as the higher-ranking individual, Prince Steven should determine what happened next.
With all eyes upon them, there was little Darcy could do but pray she appeared pleasant and unassuming, as any reputable young lady should. She resisted the urge to glance at her father for his support. It would do little good and make a poor impression. If she had any hope of establishing herself as an equal to the prince, she needed to stand on her own. After what felt like an eternity, Prince Steven realized she expected him to take the lead and, thrusting out his arm, said, “Would you care to dance, Miss Lewis?”
Darcy pretended not to notice the prince’s aggrieved tone and took his arm. “I would be delighted, Your Highness. Thank you.”
It was with an arrogant stride that Prince Steven marched Darcy out onto the dance floor. Her feet became tangled in her skirts as she struggled to keep up with the long-legged young man, and she almost tripped when he came to an abrupt stop in the center of the room. She fought to maintain a friendly expression and forced herself not to meet his scowl with one of her own. The urge to speak her mind was like a banshee preparing to scream. It was only propriety kept her temper in check.
Fortunately, the music started as soon as they took their places. Regrettably, Prince Steven was a poor dancer. He was abrupt and almost rough as he directed Darcy across the floor, and she felt like a rag doll as he jerked her forward and back into something that resembled a waltz. She did her best to keep up and eventually the prince slowed and stepped almost in time with the music. As things calmed, she hoped Prince Steven would speak, but he continued to avoid eye contact, seemingly unwilling to start a conversation. Knowing she couldn’t allow the silence to continue, Darcy reached for an inoffensive opening. “Your musicians are in fine form tonight, Your Highness.”
The prince glanced down at her with a disgruntled frown. “Yes.”
The pair swung across the floor for another moment before Darcy tried again. “Do you enjoy music? I play the piano when I have time. But I enjoy string instruments as well.”
“Music is fine,” the prince said, in a bored tone.
Prince Steven’s dismissive response was horribly rude, and his stormy expression wasn’t encouraging. Sharp words were on the tip of Darcy’s tongue, but again she set her jaw and swallowed them down. Now was not the time to indulge her temper. Salvaging the situation had to be her priority. What she needed was a subject that might reel him in, but finding a viable conversation topic in the middle of a dance with someone unwilling to take part was an almost insurmountable challenge. Grasping at straws, Darcy said, “This is my first time to court. Do you always have such a large turnout for balls?”
The prince’s scowl deepened, and he seemed unlikely to answer, but he eventually said, “It is the usual size for such a gathering.”
After the prince rejected Darcy’s latest effort to become acquainted, a heavy silence fell. Unwilling to be rejected again, she retreated and focused on keeping up with the prince’s inept dancing. She knew she couldn’t let the hostility that was settling between them increase as to do so would all but guarantee them a grim future. She grasped at one last possibility; it had a slim chance of success, but it might open the lines of communication. What choice do I have? I don’t want to be ignored for the rest of my life. With that thought, she swallowed hard, took a shaky breath, and raised her chin. “Forgive my forwardness, Your Highness, but it would appear that you are unhappy with our engagement.”
That got Prince Steven’s attention. He looked down at her, brow puckered in confusion, and came to an abrupt stop in the middle of the dance floor. A wave of righteousness surged through Darcy. Not used to someone calling you out on your bad behavior, are you? She knew she was skirting the bounds of propriety, speaking so bluntly to him, yet she couldn’t resist the small, smug smile that snuck up on her.
It took a moment for Prince Steven to shake off his surprise, but in the next instant, he stood even straighter and grimly carried on, forcefully turning Darcy around the room. Worry over his response tempered any gratification she took from piercing the prince’s cool facade. She might have destroyed any chance they had of coming to an accord. After a prolonged silence, he said, “You are correct in your assumption, Miss Lewis, but I’m assured you will make me a fine wife and, as it is, I have little choice. I will marry you.”
Darcy turned her head away, not liking his bitter response. Her heart ached as it became clear how unpleasant their future together would be. It was with feigned cool detachment she murmured, “I see.” They continued dancing and as they spun past one of the open doors leading into the gardens, Darcy saw a chance to escape the crowded ballroom. “Would Your Highness be interested in a walk? We might converse more privately outside.”
Prince Steven looked down at her sharply, surprised by her initiative. He glanced around the room, apparently only then realizing they were being observed and that anyone could overhear them. With a decisive nod, he steered Darcy toward the door. As they reached the exit, the prince slipped Darcy’s arm through his and marched them onto the terrace with a determined air, causing her to falter as she tried to keep up. Frustrated with the prince’s lack of consideration, Darcy tugged on his arm and pulled him to a stop. With forced restraint, she said, “I’m sorry, Your Highness, but I cannot keep pace with you.”
Startled by Darcy’s protest, Prince Steven’s cold veneer broke. He looked down at her in dismay and then sighed heavily. “Forgive me. Of course. I’ll slow down. It’s been a long time since I’ve walked with anyone.”
Darcy wordlessly accepted the prince’s apology and, retaking his arm, they continued down the terrace steps into the open garden. It was a cool, spring evening and with the moon, one could see far across the open formal gardens to the maze of trees beyond. Ursa Major shone down, and Sirius was bright in the night sky. Their familiarity calmed Darcy. She could always rely on the stars when she needed them.
There was a lessening of tension between the pair as they walked, but neither spoke while they were in range of a few others, also out enjoying the night air. It allowed Darcy to catch her breath, but only made her more aware of the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. You shouldn’t have said anything. Just wait, he’s going to run to Father and complain about your unseemly behavior. Knowing she still had to salvage the evening, Darcy took a deep breath and stood a little taller. After breaking protocol, she couldn’t back down now.
Unfortunately, Prince Steven didn’t appear prepared to start the conversation they had come outside to have. Worry clung to Darcy as she knew she was about to address the heart of their problem and it would undoubtedly be ill-received. Still, it had to be done. Satisfied they were far enough from the castle no one could overhear them, yet still close enough to be appropriate, she came to a stop. Setting her shoulders back, she looked up at the reticent prince and said, “I’m as happy about our engagement as you are, Your Highness, but I also have no choice. My father says I’m to marry you, so I shall.”
Before Darcy could continue, Prince Steven huffed. “I’d think marrying me would be a dream come true for you. Don’t all girls want to marry a prince?”
Heat flashed through Darcy so quickly she shivered at the shock. Blood pounded in her ears and she fought to keep her fists at her sides. Her first thought was what an arrogant ass, followed by good god, do not say that out loud. She clung to her self-control. Angry though she was, she refused to let the prince goad her into acting out, but nor would she back down. She raised her chin and offered him a smile that she in no way felt. “I’m sure there are plenty of girls that would love to marry a prince. I’m not one of them. As a little girl, I didn’t believe in fairytales. Why would I start now?”
Prince Steven looked down at Darcy like a puzzle he needed to solve. You’ve done it. He’s never going to marry you now. Her stomach clenched, yet even so, she held her head high. I will not apologize. No matter what he says, I’ve done nothing wrong.
Thankfully, the prince didn’t appear offended. If anything, he seemed confused and then amused. “I never believed in fairytales either. And you should know I don’t own a white horse.”
The prince’s condescending tone raised Darcy’s hackles further. She pulled away and planted herself solidly before him. “Who says I need rescuing?” she asked, her eyes snapping. “Maybe you’re the one that needs to be rescued. Did that occur to you?” She brazenly met his eye and desperately prayed her horror over her own audacity wasn’t apparent. There’s no turning back now. He’s not going to think you unseemly. He’s going to think you’re crazy.
The prince offered her a bemused smile. “You’re going to rescue me?”
“Sure. Why not?” Darcy said with more bravado than she felt.
With a chuckle, Prince Steven gave Darcy a considering look. “What is it you think I’m going to need to be rescued from?”
“Dragons,” she answered without pause. “Maidens plotting to trap you in marriage?”
The prince gave her a wry look and, gesturing to her with amusement playing across his face, said, “Maidens like you?”
Darcy’s eyes widened at the accusation. “Me? I’m not plotting anything. Our fathers were the plotters. You’re the one who agreed to the engagement.”
“Are you saying you didn’t have a choice?”
Darcy gave a short, cynical laugh. “Oh, I had a choice. It wasn’t much of one, but I could have said no. I just didn’t like my other options.”
Prince Steven tilted his head as he considered her. “I was your best option? Compared to whom?”
“Not whom, but what.”
The prince’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “What?”
“You are a better option than being thrown out onto the street. My pride isn’t worth starving–or worse,” Darcy said, chin held high. She would not apologize for looking after herself.
The prince’s cold veneer cracked. “Your father wouldn’t have done that, would he?”
Darcy gave him a small, judgmental smile. “I didn’t want to find out. As it is, I’ve always known I would never marry for love. My best hope from an arranged marriage is friendship.”
“Friendship?” Prince Steven repeated in disbelief. He searched Darcy’s face and took his time evaluating her. Sensing that he was taking her seriously, Darcy raised her chin and calmly met his eye. Evidently, he liked what he saw and heard, because after a moment, he relented. His perpetual scowl lessened, and some of the tension he was carrying bled away. With a solemn expression, he took her hand. “I owe you an apology. I shouldn’t take my unhappiness with our engagement out on you. You are not to blame for the situation in which we find ourselves. As you pointed out, you have even less choice in these matters than I do.”
The prince paused and looked out across the garden with a sorrowful expression. Stunned by the sudden change in his demeanor, Darcy waited for him to continue, unable to guess what he was going to say next. Eventually, he turned back to her. “This isn’t your concern, but I have only just returned from the battlefield. I’ve come home to rebuild a kingdom and mourn for men lost to war, only to find I’m expected to be merry and take a wife I’ve only just met. I hope you can forgive my poor behavior, but I can hardly be expected to embrace marriage when I’ve barely washed the blood from my hands.”
Darcy grappled for a response, as Prince Steven revealed far more than she expected. Her instincts told her to offer him some sort of comfort, but she didn’t know where to begin. Before she could speak, he pulled away and drew himself to attention. “But how I feel doesn’t matter. Your father needs to be repaid. So, I will marry you and I will do my duty for my kingdom.”
Prince Steven’s proclamation dampened the hope that had been building within Darcy. What did you expect? At least he’s honest. He’s not mean or angry and he apologized for his behavior. Most men wouldn’t have bothered. Regardless of the prince’s less than eager declaration, it appeared a cordial relationship was still a possibility. It was the most Darcy had hoped for when she started the evening. She tentatively touched the sleeve of his coat to offer what comfort she could. “I am sorry, too, Your Highness. It is understandable that you would be unhappy with our engagement. If it were in my power, I would release you from your duty.”
Darcy lapsed into silence; she knew there was little she could say that would make a difference. When Prince Steven seemed unlikely to respond, she spoke again. “When you think about it, we’re both doing our duty. For our fathers. For the kingdom. There’s no reason we have to be enemies.”
Silence settled between the pair as Prince Steven seemed to give her words serious consideration. After a long moment, he gave a decisive nod. “You’re right. We’re in this together. We’re fulfilling the roles we were meant to play. Whether we like it or not.”
The prince’s agreement renewed Darcy’s hope, and sensing an opening, she pressed for more. “So maybe we don’t have to be miserable? We can’t control our future, but we can manage it.”
“What do you suggest?” the prince asked with a guarded expression.
“We could get to know one another. That’s the first step in any relationship, isn’t it? We might find out we have things in common. Or we might not, but it can’t hurt to try. Even finding out Your Highness’ favorite color is better than knowing nothing.”
“My favorite color?” the prince asked incredulously.
“Mine’s red. What’s yours?” Darcy asked with a raised brow, as if daring him to answer.
Prince Steven gave her a tolerant look and, clearly humoring her, said, “Blue.”
As the prince unwound enough to play along, hope flashed through Darcy, and she couldn’t resist taking a teasing tone. “Blue. A fine color for a prince. I had no idea when I chose this dress, but now I can see it’s fitting. And you must have known mine, given your jacket. Maybe we know a little about each other already.”
The prince looked down at her, brow puckered, and didn’t respond. Darcy held herself still and barely breathed as she prayed their tentative understanding wouldn’t be lost. Worried he would withdraw again, she rushed on. “I’m sure we have other things in common. For instance, you must ride and so do I. I have a beautiful filly named Beatrice. Father has promised I can bring her to court–should you allow me to continue to ride. You will, I hope?”
The prince looked down at her in surprise. “You ride?”
Darcy grinned. She always delighted in being scandalous. “I hunt, too. Father doesn’t like it. He says it’s unseemly for a young lady to join a fox hunt and my governess agrees, but our groundsman Thomas loves a good hunt. He snuck me into one of my father’s and I’ve been allowed to join the hunts so long as I stay in the back. I’ve been on three county hunts so far.”
“That is unexpected,” the prince said, looking her over anew, eyes alight for the first time all night.
“I’m full of surprises,” Darcy laughed. “You just have to give me a chance. Now come… tell me something about you. I told you about my riding. What is something you enjoy?”
The prince ducked his head as he considered her question. With an embarrassed laugh, he said, “I paint. It’s not exactly a princely pastime, but I’ve always done it, ever since I was a boy.”
With the prince’s admission, Darcy breathed a little easier. They were getting past their shaky start. It had been risky to be so straightforward, but it was paying off. She soldiered on, putting as much enthusiasm into her words as she could, wanting to draw the prince in further. “Excellent! I enjoy art. I cannot paint, but I can appreciate it. Someday you’ll have to show me your work.”
Prince Steven offered her a rueful smile. “I rarely show it to anyone. I’m not that good.”
“How do you know if you don’t show it to anyone? But that’s fine. I’m sure we have other things in common.”
“Maybe,” the prince said, as if he were weighing her words and finding they had merit. He looked down at Darcy with a thoughtful expression and then offered his arm to escort her back to the ballroom. “I would be delighted if you would join me for a ride tomorrow, Miss Lewis. We could picnic. My friends, Lord James, and Lord Samuel could accompany us. Lady Natasha and Lady Sharon will be there too, of course. It could be an enjoyable day.”
Relief sped through Darcy at the invitation. She offered the prince a smile that felt real for the first time all night. “A ride sounds lovely, Your Highness. I should warn you; my governess will have to accompany me. Unless you have someone else that would be appropriate?”
Prince Steven didn’t miss her hopeful tone. “I might have just the person.”
“I’m sure whoever you have in mind will be more fun than my governess,” Darcy said in an aggrieved tone.
“Then it’s decided. We’ll picnic tomorrow. Your father won’t mind?”
Darcy grimaced and gave a pained laugh. “No. Not at all. He’ll think I’m taking my duties seriously. I’m to woo you, of course.”
“Of course,” Prince Steven said in mock seriousness. “I vow to be on my best behavior. I shall try to keep my friends in line, but I can’t make any promises.”
Darcy brightened. “If your friends are the type you have to keep in line, then chances are I’ll like them fine. I’m not well known for exemplary behavior.”
“Oh, really?”
“Don’t get any ideas, Your Highness. I am a gentlewoman that has had a proper upbringing, but you don’t learn to ride or hunt without having an adventurous spirit.”
Prince Steven cracked a smile. “I look forward to learning more about this adventurous spirit of yours.”
Darcy simply grinned in response. She enjoyed teasing Prince Steven, and he seemed willing to indulge her. It boded well if they were to establish a friendship. On the return to the ballroom, the prince kept to a much more sedate pace and was attentive as he guided her out onto the dance floor. As they took their places and waited for the next song to begin, Prince Steven said ruefully, “You’re nothing like I expected, Miss Lewis.”
Darcy gave him a knowing look. “Your Highness expected an empty-headed ninny who wouldn’t be able to hold a decent conversation. Correct?”
Prince Steven winced in embarrassment. “Something like that.”
“Don’t concern yourself. I was worried you would be knee-deep in drink by now. That you can carry on a conversation is a pleasant surprise as well.”
The prince let out a startled laugh. “I’m glad I didn’t meet your expectations?”
Delighted that the prince saw the humor in their situation, Darcy flashed a playful grin. “As am I.”
The time away from the dance floor hadn’t improved Prince Steven’s dancing, but Darcy felt lighter on her feet as her worries were lessened. Speaking bluntly had served her well. She watched the prince as he turned her around the room and returned his smile when he caught her eye. He is handsome. And he wasn’t completely horrible. Maybe her future wouldn’t be as bad as she feared. She still wasn’t looking forward to marrying, as much could go wrong, but the prince had proven himself affable. If her father insisted she marry, she could do far worse than Prince Steven.
By the time the evening ended, Steve didn’t know what to think. Weeks ago, when he broached the subject of speaking with Miss Lewis before they settled the betrothal, the council rebuffed him. They were concerned he would sabotage the agreement - which was insulting. After all of his sacrifices, he couldn’t believe they would doubt him. He would never put his own wants before the kingdom. He simply wanted privacy when he met the girl he was to marry.
What Steve resented most was how the council had treated him. He had no illusions. He was a prince. Marriage was in the job description. He didn’t have a problem with that. However, he assumed that when it came time for him to marry, he would have some input on the matter. Much to his dismay, no one had been sympathetic when he questioned the decision. The kingdom’s coffers were empty. It had borrowed all it could during the war and more money was necessary to recover in its aftermath. Mr. Lewis not only agreed to renegotiate terms, but to also use his contacts to open new markets the country sorely needed. That he had a daughter of marriageable age was simply convenient. The marriage would serve as a partial payment of the loan and raise Mr. Lewis’ status in the kingdom. It was an obvious solution that all parties found acceptable. Unless, of course, you were one of the pair designated to marry.
Now, Steve paced the gallery, astounded the evening hadn’t been a complete disaster. He never would have believed meeting his fiancée for the first time in front of the entire court could go so well. He suspected he had Miss Lewis to thank for that. Had she been the frivolous girl he expected, things would have gone much differently.
Given the evening’s events, Steve was somewhat pacified, but he still worried. His recent return from war weighed on him. After years away fighting, matrimony was the last thing on his mind. It seemed disrespectful to suddenly change directions and embrace what was meant to be a joyous occasion when he had left so much tragedy behind. He was hardly in the right frame of mind to celebrate, much less be a proper husband.
Miss Lewis’ begrudging agreement to the marriage also concerned Steve. It boded ill for their future. He didn’t relish the idea of forcing her into the marriage bed. Yet neither of them could have any illusions as to what would be expected. The royal line would need to be secured at some point.
Steve looked up at the portraits of his forefathers and wished he could ask them for advice. He was sure more than one had suffered the indignity of an arranged marriage. Surely, they would have some insights into what to expect or know what to do when all expectations were upended?
Given how far afield the conversation with Miss Lewis had gone, Steve felt like a wet cloth that had been wrung out to dry. Nothing he had prepared for had occurred. There had been no giggling or gushing over him, being a prince, which had been most refreshing. Even more shocking was the discovery that Miss Lewis was not a foolish, naïve girl, but instead one that was remarkably down to earth and easy to converse with. He cringed as he remembered his behavior at the beginning of the evening. As horrible as he had been, he considered himself fortunate that she was gracious enough to accept his apology.
Steve’s cheeks heated as he thought of Miss Lewis. He hadn’t felt so out of his depth with a woman in years. He wasn’t sure what it was about her that had him off-kilter. It might have been the spirited flare she had once she started speaking or her lushness, which he couldn’t deny he liked. Her fiery blue eyes and teasing grin were inviting as well. They contrasted with her soft pink complexion and gentle presentation. But when it came right down to it, it was probably her forthrightness that drew him most.
What was strange was Miss Lewis appeared to be like any other girl at court. Steve stopped short and frowned as he reviewed the evening. That wasn’t true. She was nothing like the women he was accustomed to. Her gown hadn’t been a ruffled monstrosity like so many wore, unashamedly parading their assets. Instead, she had dressed conservatively, and he had assumed she either had a matronly mindset or was too stupid to have any fashion sense. Her behavior set her apart as well. Instead of being giggly or vapid, she appeared bored and occasionally timid. Put all together, he had wrongly concluded she would be tedious.
A bemused smile settled on Steve’s face as he continued pacing. Miss Lewis had been anything but tedious. She had challenged every assumption he’d made, with a few simple words, and transformed into a spirited young woman demanding attention. She had taken an enormous risk speaking to him the way she had proving she was definitely not timid.
Steve paused before a large oil painting of a soft-faced woman with an air of serenity about her, and he wished for the hundredth time that his mother was still there to speak with.
“I thought I’d find you here,” came a familiar voice from the gallery entrance.
Steve turned from the portrait and gave his father a pained smile, but quickly dropped it. He looked away and resisted the urge to offer reassurances. Difficult as it was, Steve ignored his father’s remorseful expression, certain he was in the right.
King Wilhelm acknowledged Steve’s dismissal with an understanding nod. “I’m sorry Steven. I know this evening has been difficult for you.”
Steve ducked his head and shrugged. “It’s fine.”
“It’s not, but it’s good of you to say so,” the monarch said, coming to stand by his son’s side. He considered Steve for a moment before giving the prince’s shoulder a shake. “If it’s any consolation, I truly believe your marriage to Miss Lewis will benefit the kingdom.” He bent his head and tried to catch Steve’s eye. “She seems affable. You could do worse. Half the court put forth their daughters for marriage and you would be fending off their attention even now if we hadn’t announced your engagement tonight.”
Steve let out a quick, incredulous laugh as the memory surfaced of Miss Lewis’ promise to save him from maidens trapping him into marriage. “If I have to have another conversation with someone who insists they love painting when they don’t know how to hold a brush–well, avoiding that might be worth marrying.”
“I noticed you and Miss Lewis took a walk in the gardens. How did it go?” the king asked, leaning in hopefully.
Steve considered the question. “She was… surprising.”
“In what way?”
He offered his father a chagrined smile. “She’s not shy. Natasha’s the only other woman I know who would dare to speak to me in such a manner.”
The king chuckled and rocked back on his feet. “Good for her. No declarations of her love for art?”
“No. Although she says she rides,” Steve said, with a skeptical frown.
“Excellent, you have something in common!”
“It’s a start,” Steve replied, turning to look up at his mother.
The king glanced from the portrait to his son. “Your mother would be proud of you, Steven. She would want you to be happy, of course, but -.”
“Kingdom first,” Steve said, setting his shoulders back and standing tall. “Above all else, the people and their needs must always come first.”
“You’ve learned your lessons well,” King Wilhelm replied with a crisp nod. He contemplated Steve and then sighed. “I know you’re unhappy. Given time, I hope you’ll see your marriage as an opportunity. You’ll have a fresh start with Miss Lewis. Together, you can rebuild the kingdom.” Impassioned, he held out his arms and said, “We need this. You know that. This country must regain its footing and Mr. Lewis is giving us the opportunity we require. It will place us in a stronger position, both economically and politically. All you have to do is marry.”
Steve nodded curtly. “You’re right, of course. It’s a chance to start anew.” He turned to look at his mother’s painting and, with a small contemplative frown, said, “I do think it might be possible to build something with Miss Lewis. She was more amiable than I expected.”
King Wilhelm had been watching Steve closely and, with his admission, the monarch sighed deeply. “I’m glad to hear you say that. The last thing I want is for you to be miserable.”
“Is uncle still arguing with you about your decision?”
The king’s bushy eyebrows puckered into a frown. “He is. I don’t understand him. When we were most desperate during the war, he agreed that Mr. Lewis’s terms were fair. Now he would throw him aside and join with Sangerhausen, one of Schmidt’s old followers.”
Wilhelm straightened and sliced the air with his hand. “I will have nothing to do with them. I will not rebuild this kingdom on broken promises. Mr. Lewis has been more than willing to renegotiate terms with us. We should not punish him by breaking the contract. I trust he has the country’s best interests at heart, and both his contacts in Hamburg and its markets are exactly what we need.”
“I hope so,” Steve said over his shoulder, as he walked toward the sculptures at the other end of the room.
The king watched him go, his face filled with remorse. “I truly believe he will look after our interests, Steven. Were I unsure, I wouldn’t have asked you to do this.”
“I believe you,” Steve said. He came to a stop before a marble statue and shrugged dismissively. “I never expected to marry for love. You and mother were lucky. The kingdom hadn’t had a war in over 100 years when you married. You could afford love. I don’t have that luxury and I understand why. I’m sure Miss Lewis and I will be fine.”
King Wilhelm gave Steve a hopeful look. “You said she was surprising?”
The memory of Miss Lewis’ reprimand sent a tendril of warmth through Steve, and he chuckled. “She called me out on my bad behavior. Right in the middle of the dance floor. Not that I blame her. But it was more daring than I would have given her credit for–just by looking at her.”
The king cast a reproachful frown as he came to stand next to Steve. “Steven. You should know better than to judge by appearances. Your mother was a kind and gentle woman, but you and I both earned the sharp edge of her tongue a time or two. If Miss Lewis can bring you to heel, I like her already. A queen needs to be strong. You could do worse than having an honest wife.”
Steve scuffed. “I don’t think honesty will be a problem. She has too much spirit to hide behind lies.”
King Wilhelm nodded in understanding. “She probably gets that from her father. Mr. Lewis is foremost a businessman. He’s too practical for social niceties. The pretty lies we have to tell the court aren’t something he’s comfortable with.” He added, “He means well, but you should know he won’t put up with much foolishness. From what you’ve said, it sounds like his daughter is cut from the same cloth.”
“That sounds about right,” Steve said, weighing his father’s words. “I invited her to go riding tomorrow morning. I thought we could picnic.”
“You’ll bring the boys with you? Natasha?”
“Yes. And Sharon to round out the group.”
King Wilhelm clapped his hands. “Excellent. They’ll get the measure of Miss Lewis. And hopefully, they’ll behave themselves.”
Miss Lewis’ unorthodox behavior immediately came to mind, and Steve offered his father a wry smile. “I’m not worried. I have a feeling there isn’t much that will scare her off.”
“Good. The last thing you need is a shrinking violet. If she can hold her own with Natasha and the boys, she’ll go far,” the king said and turned to walk toward the door.
Steve followed him. “We’ll see. I’m hopeful.”
“Good. Now, off to bed with you.”
Steve gave his father an exasperated look. “I’m hardly a child to be sent to my bed.”
The king chuckled at his son’s ire. “You’re never too old to be sent to your bed. I’m your father, after all.”
“I thought I’d notify the kitchen we’re going out tomorrow, so they can pack a lunch. You know Cookie will complain if I don’t give her enough notice.”
“Wise. She hasn’t taken the spoon to you since you were a boy. Best to stay on her good side.”
Steve parted from his father with a warm good night and in a far more forgiving mood than he had been. He still didn’t know what to make of Miss Lewis. Her reluctance to marry had been unexpected. From Steve’s experience, girls spent their time plotting ways to capture a young man in matrimony. That she was the exception was surprising and a relief.
As refreshing as Miss Lewis’ honesty was, it also simplified things. He would no longer have to pretend he was happy about their marriage. It was an unlooked for, yet welcome reprieve, as he had been dreading play acting the rest of his life.
As Steve made his way through the castle, he felt lighter, yet chagrined. At the beginning of the evening, he hadn’t wanted to speak with Miss Lewis, and by the time they had parted ways, she had negotiated a truce. She had managed him very well and he could admit it boded well for their future. The cold, distant marriage he had been preparing for seemed less likely. He thought he might give Miss Lewis a chance.