not.”
Russell knew Reginald thought he was taunting him. Russell was next in line for the throne. The rules of the kingdom were such that if the King had no male heirs, then the Duke of Carrington would be the next King of Silvershire. He doubted that Reginald believed that there was nothing that he would have wanted less than to be King. But his ambitions had never taken him in that direction.
As far back as he could remember, he had always hated being in the limelight. Hated being singled out for any reason, for any amount of time. He would have shrugged off the order of succession in a heartbeat, but it wasn’t his decision to make. And he was too loyal to his king, and his family’s honor meant too much to him, to ever do more than simply contemplate walking away. His path was clear. He had his duties.
As did Princess Amelia. Hers were harder, Russell thought, looking at the prince. At least he didn’t have to marry Reginald.
He supposed there was no point in arguing. Reginald wasn’t going to be dissuaded from his planned revelry. Maybe the prince did need to get it out of his system one last time. At least, Russell thought, he could hope.
Inclining his head, Russell surrendered. “All right, I’ll do it. I’ll go and bring the princess back for the wedding.”
Reginald smiled coldly, triumphant. “Of course you will. Was there ever any doubt?”
Before Russell could trust himself to safely respond, the prince had left the room, slamming the door in his wake.
Princess Amelia of Gastonia stood on the palace terrace, overlooking the lush green gardens she loved so much. The gardens where she had played with almost reckless abandonment as a child. While other little girls might have fantasized about being princesses, she, as a princess, had fantasized about being just like any other little girl.
But even then, she’d known that she wasn’t like every other little girl in Gastonia, the once-quaint country that her father had brought into the twenty-first century. She was different. On her shoulders was the weight of the kingdom. The welfare of her people. That had been taught to her from a very young age.
And if, by some wild fantasy of fate, she ever forgot for a little while, there had been Prince Reginald’s visits to remind her.
She sighed inwardly.
Prince Reginald. The toad. Her fiancé.
Not that the Prince of Silvershire was actually ugly. As a boy, he’d been decent enough to look at. Not like his companion, Russell Southgate, the current Duke of Carrington, of course, whom she’d secretly had a fleeting crush on, but decent. It wasn’t the prince’s face, but his soul that was ugly.
Amelia strove now not to shiver even as she wrapped her arms around herself for comfort. In another lifetime, she was fairly confident that Reginald could have been, and probably had been, Ivan the Terrible, the blood-thirsty Russian czar.
At least, that was the feeling she always had whenever Reginald was around. He treated everyone around him as if they were less than the bugs that were so plentiful in her garden. She was accustomed to being treated with respect, yet Reginald would order her around as if she were, in his mind, a lowly peasant.
It was Russell who would intercede, distracting Reginald and getting the prince to leave her alone. Russell who reminded her, in those instances, of a medieval knight in shining armor. With his sandy-brown hair, charismatic smile and beautiful dark brown eyes, he had been her hero.
He had also, she remembered, been her tormentor. Russell had never missed a chance to drop a water balloon on her head, or infest her bed with a myriad of bugs. Weeks after the royal party had left, she would have trouble rounding a corner beneath a balcony or getting into bed at night without first stripping off all the sheets, shaking them out and then remaking the bed.
Still, she thought, of the two, Russell was far preferable to Reginald. So when her father had just now come to tell her that Lord Carrington, not the prince, would be the one coming to take her to Silvershire, she’d received the news with a wave of relief, though she was acutely aware that her reprise was only temporary.
She’d always known this day would come, that she would be required to fulfill her obligation as Gastonia’s princess. Amelia tried not to shudder; the full impact was only now setting in. She was going to be marrying Reginald. Sharing a crown with Reginald.
Sharing a bed.
Oh, God.
Perhaps if she’d had siblings, someone could have taken this burden from her. But there weren’t any siblings. She was her parents’ only child. And her marriage was Gastonia’s only hope of security.
Still, knowing it would come intellectually was one thing. Absorbing the full impact with her heart was really quite another. Now that it was happening, she felt trapped by honor, duty and circumstance. If she hadn’t been born a princess, this wouldn’t be happening to her.
“It’s not fair, you know,” she murmured, more to herself than to the regal man who stood behind her.
Did he feel as helpless as she did? she wondered. Did some part of her father regret having to sacrifice his daughter’s happiness in order to insure his country’s continued safety?
Amelia turned around to look at her father. “In this day and age, it’s not fair, you know. Not fair to have to marry a man who, if not for his lineage, would have trouble securing a date even on the Internet.”
King Roman frowned deeply. His eyes looked sad, she thought. There was never any doubt on Amelia’s part that her father did love her. And, she hoped, if there were some other way, he would want to see her happy. But King Roman was steeped in tradition and so, she knew, should she be.
With an air of frustration, the king waved an aristocratic-looking hand at her comments. “Be that as it may—”
She wasn’t going to make this difficult for him. She was her father’s daughter, and well-taught. Amelia nodded. “Be that as it may, I will honor the treaty and my obligation, even though it’s obvious that Prince Reginald doesn’t think very much of me.” She saw her father raise his eyebrows in silent query. “Otherwise, he’d have come here himself.”
“I’m sure that Prince Reginald has other pressing business, my dear.”
Amelia laughed softly. She, like everyone else in both her kingdom and his, knew of Reginald’s reputation. “I’m sure ‘pressing’ is involved.”
Gray-and-white eyebrows rose high on her father’s forehead in shocked disapproval. King Roman was an enlightened man, but not where his daughter was concerned. Even though he had given her the best tutors and trainers he could find, in some areas he tried to keep her unworldly. “Amelia.”
Amelia forced a smile to her lips. “I will not disappoint you, Father,” she promised.
Even though I’m horribly disappointed myself, she added silently.
King Roman took her hand in both of his and then raised it to his lips. “You have always been my treasure,” he told her before he left.
Amelia turned toward the garden again. She heard her father’s footsteps recede on the stone terrace until they faded away altogether. With a sigh, she made her way down the terrace steps to the garden. Maybe the flowers
