He Objects

Chapter 3: The Prince is Coming

"Oh my," my mother said breathlessly. She beamed excitedly as the shock wore off. "What an honor that is! Did you hear that, Charlotte?"

"Yes, mother," I said patiently. I was, after all, standing right there. But I understood where she was coming from. The royal family never made appearances at weddings, even amongst the highest of the nobility. In fact, they rarely made appearances at any social events, preferring to keep to themselves. Other than a select few politically driven events and the yearly debutante ball, people hardly ever saw them. All that was really known about the mysterious sovereigns was that they were powerful, and they kept our country safe and prosperous. Nobody would dare to challenge them.

So Prince Henri coming to a wedding—my wedding—was unheard of. Even though he and Felix were cousins, I hadn't expected anyone from the royal family to show up. Felix's father was the third son of the former king, the current King Nicholas's brother. However, they didn't get along. Nobody was quite sure why, other than it might have to do with their deceased brother, Reuben, who died on the battlefield twenty years ago.

"Well, we'd best be going," the dowager duchess said, nodding at us. "Thank you for your hospitality. We'll see you tomorrow. Rest well." Her gaze flicked toward me at the last part. In other words, don't look like garbage when walking down the aisle. It would make Felix look bad.

"Of course," I said with a curtsy. "Have a safe journey. Good evening, Your Grace," I said, rising from the floor. Then I looked over at Felix. "Your Grace," I murmured again, addressing him this time.

"Lady Charlotte," he responded with his usual frosty politeness. He bowed to me and thanked my mother for the evening, then they swept out of the room, leaving it feeling surprisingly empty for all those that still remained.

I let out a sigh. "Mother, would you mind very much if I turned in for the night? I'm a little tired."

"Oh, goodness, of course, my darling!" my mother exclaimed, looking at the grandfather clock with alarm. "You must get a good night's sleep. Tomorrow comes early. Just say goodnight to your father, first."

"Alright. Thank you, mother," I said, kissing her quickly on the cheek. When I pulled away, she was already moving on to the next group, no doubt to gossip about the prince coming to the wedding tomorrow.

I wandered over to my father, who was speaking with Viscount Purlington about the upcoming shooting. "Good evening," I said demurely to the viscount. Then to my father, I said, "I'm going upstairs to rest."

"Is it that time already?" My father said, raising his eyebrows. Then he looked around. "Where did the duke go?"

"He and his mother had to take their leave," I said. Lately, I had taken to avoiding calling her the duchess out loud. Technically, she was already the dowager duchess, but nobody referred to her that way. Tomorrow though, that would change. Baltingshire would have a new duchess. Me. Hurrah.

"Well, you better hustle upstairs, princess, tomorrow comes early!" My father said, leaning in and giving me a sound kiss on the forehead. I pecked him on the cheek, giggling a little at the way his mustache had tickled my skin.

"Father, what's wrong?" I asked with surprise, pulling away to see that his eyes were glistening.

"Oh, I just realized that this time tomorrow, you'll be kissing someone else goodnight," he said, still misty-eyed. Next to him, Viscount Purlington chuckled.

I swallowed hard. Try as I might, I couldn't imagine Felix accepting a goodnight kiss from me. I didn't think I would dare to offer one, either.

"I'll give you one more then," I said, kissing his other cheek and giving him a quick hug. Now that the Kentworths were gone, we had unspoken permission to be more affectionate with each other. In their presence we were strictly cordial. Mother's orders, though she violated her own rules more than we ever did.

"Goodnight, princess," my father said, choking up a little.

I quickly bid goodnight to the viscount, squeezed my father's hand, and made my exit. My mother would make excuses for me to the rest of the guests, I was sure. Either way, I had to leave the room before I completely lost it.

When I returned to my room, the maids had already drawn a warm bath scented with eucalyptus and lavender. "Ahhhhhh," I sighed as I slipped into the tub, submerging my body up to my neck. The bath did wonders to relax my body, but little to ease my mind.

Prince Henri. I'd met him only twice in my life, and the experiences were in stark contrast to one another. The first time, I was only eleven, and was attending a large garden party with my parents. It was a rare treat to attend a party with adults, and I was so excited, wearing my brand new pale pink poofy dress and feeling very much the sophisticated lady. That was until I accidentally spilled punch on my skirt. I'd been dabbing at it furiously, tucked behind the shrubbery, when a white handkerchief was waved in my face. When I looked up, it was the prince. Five years my senior, he was already sixteen and tall as a mountain next to my prepubescent self. Not that it was much different now. Though I had grown taller since then, so had he, topping out at nearly six-and-a-half feet.

"It's alright," Prince Henri had said, shaking the handkerchief a little. "It happens to everybody."

I remember nodding mutely and accepting the handkerchief, and watching him walk away in stunned silence. I fell a little bit in love with the tall, dark, handsome prince that day. But it only lasted until the second time we met.

The second time I saw him was a couple of years ago. I had just officially debuted in high society, and was attending the evening ball at the palace, the one event that was hosted there without fail. Prince Heinry, now twenty-one, had filled out his large frame and was without a doubt the most handsome man in the room. But he was also the most intimidating. He sat next to his mother on the dais that held the trio of thrones for the royal family, not speaking to anybody then. I had hoped, foolish girl that I was, that he would remember me from the garden party, maybe even admire how I had grown up into an accomplished young lady.

But I was wrong.

The one time the prince had looked my way, his gaze remained sullen and impassive. There was no flutter of recognition, no sign that my presence was in any way pleasing to him. After mild—and luckily private—embarrassment, I had held my head high, secure in the knowledge that it didn't matter whether the prince liked me; I was betrothed to the duke, who himself was a handsome and popular man.

And just so happened to hate me.

I sighed and sunk lower in the water, blowing bubbles at the surface. My fingers were wrinkled and the temperature lukewarm. It was past time to get out. I sighed again and swung my legs over the edge of the tub, zoning out as Sylvia dressed my hair for the night.

There was no point in thinking about it any longer. Having the prince attend the wedding changed nothing about my situation. By this time tomorrow, I would be Felix's wife. Lucky, lucky me.