Page 6 of Falling for the Widowed Prince

He just stared at her in that way he had. She’d noticed the sharp pain in them slowly diminishing, replaced by sadness or deep sorrow, depending on the day.

Madeleine rolled her eyes. “I know. Men don’t typically keep their wives’ designations, but most men aren’t prince consorts. We’ve only had a couple. This is the first one I’ve gotten to in depth enough to know how it was handled. The rest are further back and even then there are only a couple.”

“You finished the timeline reconstruction?” He broke a bit of bread off his piece and popped in his mouth.

“I think I finished it,” she confirmed. “There’re a couple of places I’m still a little uncomfortable with, but I can’t put my finger on why that is.” She shrugged. “It’s probably nothing.”

“I knew you were close. I meant to send a message that I wouldn’t be here. Louisa wasn’t feeling well and wanted her papa.” He poked at his salad with his fork.

Madeleine knew what he meant.

Like sick children the world over, the princess had wanted her mother.

Her father likely felt like a poor substitute, but would have done everything in his power to help his little girl feel better.

“It’s no problem.” Hopefully, she hid her disappointment well.

“But your lunch…”

“I have plenty of snacks stashed in my office.” Did she really have the audacity to interrupt the prince consort?!

“Still.” He leaned back in his seat and reached for the light switch to turn several of the lights off. “Let’s see what you’ve got. Where do you feel uncomfortable?”

With a click of the remote, the projector turned on and her timeline appeared on the wall. “I started with today and worked backwards, looking for confirmation in official documents or even unofficial ones of which monarch came before. I found a couple of minor discrepancies, but I haven’t delved deep enough to see if they mean anything or if it’s simple human error.”

“Show me?”

The red dot from her laser pointer circled around a name. “According to everything I ever learned growing up, and all of the lists we have around here, King Gilead I became monarch in winter of 1627 when his brother King Fulke passed.” Madeleine reached over to click a button on her laptop. A copy of several pieces of the original document appeared. “We’re missing some pieces, but this letter from the third Duke of Lancheshire doesn’t quite jibe. It seems to indicate Gilead didn’t become king until the middle of 1628.”

The prince leaned forward, clearly interested. “What does that mean?”

“The notes with the document say that the coronation was in the summer of 1628, which we already knew, and that was likely what the duke had been referring to.” She pointed her laser at a missing space. “That could be what this area clarified.”

“But you don’t know?”

“Not for certain.” With a shrug, she went back to the timeline. “It is the most likely answer. I’ll keep looking to see if I can find any other references, but it seems like someone would have noticed a long time ago if that’s the case. That would mean there would have to have been another monarch between Fulke and Gilead I.”

The prince fiddled with his fork as he stared at the timeline. “Not necessarily. It’s commonly accepted history. If the only thing to dispute what is believed to be fact is that letter, it could easily be written off as meaning the coronation without delving any further. There hasn’t been a need to do this kind of research in a long time.”

“It still should have been done,” Madeleine muttered.

The sound coming from the prince surprised her, and she looked over at him in surprise.

Was that a laugh?

Why didMs. Woodward look so shocked?

Anthony surreptitiously ran his tongue over his teeth. Did he have food sticking to his chin?

“What?” he finally asked.

“You laughed,” she told him with a half-smile. “I know I haven’t known you on a personal level for very long, but it’s the first time I’ve heard you actually chuckle.”

He blinked and thought about it. Had he really laughed? The only thing to make him laugh in the last month had been some of his children’s antics. The youngest ones especially didn’t fully understand where their mother had gone. A somber undertone had settled into their quarters, but the little ones had begun to act more normal in the days following the state funeral.

“I suppose I did,” he told her.

“What did I say that made you laugh?” She really didn’t seem to know.

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