Page 9 of Falling for the Widowed Prince

But after writing only two words, she sighed and resumed her staring, turning her pen round and round with her fingers as she did.

This was getting her nowhere.

With a groan, she stood, threw her pen down and grabbed her satchel. She needed a break. For the last month, she’d worked extra hours nearly every day and even came in on the weekends.

She could request a room to stay in if she felt the need, so she messaged the head of housekeeping then went home for what would likely be the last time until the Christmas Eve deadline.

Without changing, Madeleine flopped down on her bed. Before she could make a conscious choice, exhaustion overtook her, and she succumbed to sleep.

A glance at the clock the next time she opened her eyes told her it was the middle of the night. Knowing she likely wouldn’t go back to sleep anytime soon, Madeleine packed enough things to stay at the palace for a while. She would start early and work late. Maybe with the extra hours of digging through every resource available to her, she’d be able to find something that would legally allow the prince to be regent without needing to remarry immediately.

She’d reread everything at least ten times, but she’d do it again when she made it back to the office. The way the letter and addendum were worded, it applied to the widowed spouse regardless of gender.

But there had to be another way.

Once packed, it was still the middle of the night. A hot bath with low lights and soft music helped her relax enough to get a few more hours of sleep before going to the palace.

When she arrived, an email told her how to gain access to a visitor’s suite for as long as she needed it. She replied telling the head of housekeeping that she’d be staying there indefinitely.

A porter would be sent to take her bags to the suite for her. She left them just outside her office and locked it before going to one of the research rooms. It wasn’t uncommon for her to go all day without seeing anyone unless she left the confines of the archives all together.

At least until the last few weeks when the prince had joined her for lunch.

Those days were surely over. So certain was she that she’d ordered her lunch to be delivered from the kitchen, but made certain to only order food that could be kept in the refrigerator if she was elbow deep in history when it arrived.

And so she was. A noise at the door caused her to glance at the clock to confirm the time. “Can you put lunch in the refrigerator in the next room? I’d appreciate it.”

“I don’t have lunch. It’ll be here shortly.”

Madeleine gasped and pushed the glasses she’d been wearing onto the top of her head. “Your Royal Highness! I didn’t expect to see you!”

He frowned. “If you’re in the middle of something, I can leave, but I wanted to check on the research you’re doing and see it for myself.”

“No. You’re fine. I just didn’t know if you’d come by since I found what we’re looking for.” She honestly hadn’t expected to see him at all. Ever.

Pointing to the box of gloves, she instructed him to put them on.

She’d gone back to the original document, just to be sure something hadn’t been obscured or incorrect when a copy was made.

He stood next to her, his shoulder brushing against hers as he peered down through the protective shield to the ancient document below.

“Show me what you’ve got.”

Readingcenturies old handwriting was going to give Anthony a headache.

Ms. Woodward pointed to several different spots on the page as she talked. He tried to focus, but it took far more concentration than he could muster.

Lack of sleep had to be part of the problem - or a lot of it. He’d spent most of the night tossing, turning, staring at the ceiling, and praying for direction.

The idea of letting someone else be regent didn’t sit right with him.

Neither did remarrying less than two months after losing the love of his life.

Even if he were to remarry, who?

How could he trust a woman who would marry him under such conditions? How would he know she wasn’t after power and influence, much like King Fulke’s brother? What about his children?

“Ms. Woodward?” He interrupted her explanations.

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