Page 56 of Coronation
He winces. “Very well. If that’s what you want.”
“It is.”
“It’s decided then.”
“Yes.”
We stare at each other, and the traitorous organ in my chest flutters at the intensity of his stare. More than anything, I wish I could take my silly feelings out of the equation here, turn them off before they make this situation any worse than it already is. Unfortunately, experience has taught me that feeling things very deeply, even when it’s inconvenient, is pretty unavoidable for me.
Ben clears his throat. “We’ll be spending a lot of time together.”
My hands twist in my lap. “I saw the proposal.”
The first week will be slow, with one fake date scheduled to gauge public reaction and adjust the strategy if needed. Then, it’s game on. The weeks after will alternate between two dates and three, some in Wyngate, others in Dalmore. Ben is right. It is a lot of time together, but nearly all of it will be in public.
I can do this.
I have to do this.
“What about you?” I demand suddenly, eager to turn the tables on this man for a change. “Are you okay with all this?” It seems unlikely that this intensely private man, who hardly ever lets his true emotions slip, would be excited to fake a relationship to win public approval.
Ben seems to take a moment to process this, jaw tightening behind his beard. “Yes.”
The answer is what I’ve come to expect from this man:not enough.
Anxious to return to the safety of the conference room and the boring contract negotiations that are undoubtedly underway, I get to my feet. Ben follows my lead, rising from the sofa and leading the way back out into the sweeping corridor beyond.
Again, we set off without a word, keeping a careful distance between us. As we pass one of the enormous paned windows, my gaze catches on the hedge maze in the distance. My steps slow to a stop, momentarily stunned. There’s a better view from here, good enough that I can see for the first time, the sheer breadth of the thing. It’s enormous, taking up more of the grounds than the gardens themselves.
The day of the garden party, I’d wondered why I didn’t see other guests inside, and now it’s clear they had the good sense to steer clear. If I hadn’t run into Ben, I’d probably still be wandering down the paths within, trying to find my way out.
“It’s something of a beast to maintain,” Ben says, his tone mild, obviously following my gaze. “I understand the groundskeepers have a special team dedicated to its upkeep.”
“I bet.” My mouth is dry as I spot the topmost branches of the great oak. “Has it always been there?”
Heat spreads up my arm as Ben steps forward, his elbow brushing mine. “It was built sometime in the 1700s, I believe. It was given as a gift from the UK, where they were rather more popular.”
I press my lips together, resisting the temptation to ask further questions as I remember the glimpse I had of him sitting beneath the tree, his head in his hands. In truth, I’ve gone out of my way to avoid thinking about the sorrow I saw in him at that moment, or the raw openness of it.
Seeing the humanness beneath King Benedict’s icy exterior has never been difficult for me. He certainly hides itwell and seems to do everything in his power to make sure no one gets close enough to catch on, but what I saw in the center of the maze was different.
It wasn’t something I was meant to witness. He didn’t give that to me; I took it. The theft was inadvertent, but even still. I can’t use anything he doesn’t offer me freely. Not for this.
As we begin moving again, subtly, I lay my hand over my stomach, sending a bit of silent hope to the tiny life within me.
I’m really crossing my fingers you’re tougher than I am, baby. It’s looking like we’re in for a bumpy ride.
Twenty-Four
Benedict
The timing is carefully set.
After a full week of allowing the country to get bored of debating the meaning behind the infamous garden party look, Zelda and I are set to make our first appearance as a rumored couple.
I haven’t seen or spoken to her since she and her team came to Ashwell Palace, and as far as I know, she’s been in the North Country working on her movie.
Admittedly, for a man my age, my romantic experience is a little thin. I am familiar with the typical customs, however, and it feels bizarre to be sent an email with the itinerary for the supposed date, along with some helpful wardrobe tips and conversation topics.
