The Princess and the Peer(100)

“Not terribly gallant of him, is it?” Mercedes remarked. “For a bridegroom and all.”

Emma sipped her tea. “Not to worry. I don’t mind. Go on.”

Ariadne glanced at her before returning to the letter. “He says he looks forward to getting to know you and is eager to take you hunting. He is a great horseman, it would seem.”

“But you hate hunting, Emma,” said Mercedes.

“I do, yes,” she agreed. “I pity the poor fox far too much to engage in such cruel sport.” She cringed to think what other activities the king might enjoy that she did not. “Well, Sigrid shall simply have to accompany him. My sister loves hunting and is a far better rider than I shall ever be. Rupert says she puts most of the men to shame with her equestrian skills. Mayhap she can dazzle the king and he won’t notice my absence.”

She wished he wouldn’t notice her at all. If only there was some way he would forget the engagement. But that seemed rather a lot to hope, she supposed.

“Anything more?” Emma asked.

Ariadne shook her head. “Only that he wishes you a safe journey and bids you adieu.”

“Well, a pleasant enough missive, all in all,” Emma said, aware that the lump had returned to her throat.

Ariadne folded the letter closed and laid it back on the table. “Emma, don’t despair so. There is still a chance that matters will turn out differently than you think. In fact—”

“We discussed this before, Arie, and I wish to hear no more on the subject. So whatever you may be planning, please stop.” She replaced her teacup onto the saucer, taking care so that it did not make a betraying rattle. “Tell me, what do the two of you have planned for us today? Shopping, museums, or a visit to the lending library?”

Ariadne opened her mouth as if to press her point, but Mercedes forestalled her with a slight shake of her head that Emma was sure she was not supposed to have seen.

“Any of them,” Mercedes said with a wide smile. “Whichever you prefer.”

Emma forced a smile and made her choice.

“Welcome to Penworthy Hall, Your Royal Highnesses,” the butler greeted the following Thursday as Emma, Ariadne, Mercedes, and Sigrid stepped over the threshold of the refined country house where they and Rupert would all be staying for Christmas and on through the new year. King Otto and his party were already in residence, they were told, His Majesty having arrived the day before.

“Good afternoon,” Emma replied in a bright tone as she drew off her cream kid-leather gloves. After handing them to one of the contingent of waiting footmen, she allowed another to take her fur-lined, winter white cashmere mantle. She drew off her ermine cap next and passed it to a third waiting servant.

At a respectful distance stood the black bombazine–clad housekeeper. A set of heavy chatelaine’s keys dangled from a belt at her lean waist, her long face at odds with her pleasant demeanor. When Emma met her gaze, the woman gave her a gracious smile.

Emma smiled back.

Actually, Emma smiled constantly these days, even if the gesture went no deeper than her skin. She wished she could shut herself away and nurse her wounds rather than being put to the necessity of playacting. But she was through wearing her heart on her sleeve and had resolved that no one would realize the true depths of her wretchedness. And so she hid behind false smiles and hollow laughter when inside she felt as if she were dying.

Nick’s continued silence revealed his feelings as nothing else could have done; she would never see him again, she realized with a final acceptance of the truth.

Resigned to the necessity of doing her duty, she attended all the expected functions and kept up a constant stream of pleasant conversation that earned her frequent approving looks from Rupert. Sigrid, for her part, seemed to notice nothing amiss in her either.

Only Ariadne and Mercedes saw beneath her facade. But each time they tried to offer consolation and reassurance about her future, she cut them off and turned the conversation in a new direction. After a while, they stopped trying and she made no effort to confide.

After all, what was there to say?

Nick was lost to her and there was no changing that fact. Dwelling on thoughts of him only deepened the yawning emptiness inside her, especially since she would soon have to contend with King Otto. Somehow she knew she must find the strength not to compare the two men, or act as if she did not detest the very idea of her future husband.

“I have your bedchambers prepared, Your Highnesses,” the housekeeper announced once all their outer garments were seen to by the footmen. “If you would be so good as to follow me, I shall show you the way.”

Emma trailed behind, glad that she would at least have an hour or two alone to compose herself.