Page 10 of A Queen's Match
Hélène stared out the carriage’s small window. The scene outside was blurry, rain still drumming on the uneven paving stones. Where was Eddy right now? What was he thinking?
“I can’t explain what happened with Eddy,” she said helplessly, though a part of her longed to. She had a sudden urge to lay her head on her mother’s shoulder and sob like a child. To confess everything, as she had with Amélie.
Marie Isabelle’s eyes narrowed. “Did he hurt you? If hedid, I’ll head straight to London and rip him limb from limb, future king or no.”
“Of course not! There were…obstacles,” Hélène said at last.
“Obstacles,” her mother repeated. When Hélène said nothing, she sighed. “And these obstacles were not religious in nature?”
“No.” There was no use elaborating, not when she couldn’t tell the whole story.
Her mother leaned back. “That’s a relief, at least. I’m afraid you must abandon this insistence that you cannot convert.”
Hélène looked up sharply. “I told you, I cannot announce an engagement to Eddy.” At least not until she’d figured out how to handle May.
“I’m not talking about Eddy,” her mother said levelly. “It’s your father. He’s already considering a new match for you.”
Hélène’s gown felt suddenly chilly, its damp fabric clinging to her rib cage. She wrapped her arms around her chest, angry that she hadn’t seen this coming.
Her parents had happily agreed she could marry for love—when the man in question was a future King of England. And now that Eddy was no longer an option, they would still expect her to marry.
She was a princess, an arrow in the Orléans quiver. An item for trade that they would ship off to some other family, hoping to gain support in their never-ending quest to reclaim the throne.
“I won’t do it,” Hélène said stubbornly. “I’ll scream all the way to the altar. This isn’t the sixteenth century anymore, Mother. No priest will marry me against my will.”
Her mother made a sound that was half exasperation, half amusement. “Nothing has been decided yet. I just wanted you to be aware that your father has begun discussing it.”
Marie Isabelle was trying to help, Hélène realized. To warnher.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
She spent the rest of the drive staring at the gleaming brass hinges of the carriage door, sorting through her mental family trees. Who might her father be in talks with? The Spanish prince was too young, just a baby, and what had her mother meant byyou must abandon this insistence that you cannot convert? Was her father in discussions with one of the Protestant royal families? Prince Carl of Denmark and Prince Gustav of Sweden were both of the right age. Hélène highly doubted that her father would gravitate toward a German, though she supposed it was possible. Everyone always said wonderful things about that one German prince in particular…Maximilian of Baden, wasn’t it?
No matter. Whomever he decided to match her with, Hélène would refuse to even consider it.
And then, as soon as she judged it safe—as soon as she was certain that her history with Laurent wouldn’t explode into public knowledge—Hélène would find Eddy, and tell him that her heart was still his.
That it always had been.
Chapter Five
May
“Lord Jesus Christ, all ofcreation is filled with the light of your grace.” The archbishop held out his hands, causing the bell-shaped sleeves of his robe to flutter. “Dispel the darkness of our hearts, and forgive our sins and selfishness.”
“Lord, forgive us.” May recited the words along with the rest of the congregation, though she wasn’t sure she agreed. Lately, she’d come to think that selfishness was an asset.
Sunshine filtered through the stained-glass windows behind the altar, making the waters of the baptismal font seem to glow with color. They were in the Chapel Royal at St.James’s Palace, a gem of a space with its coffered ceiling, its massive tapestries and gold cornices. Half a century earlier, Queen Victoria had wed Prince Albert here.
This was where May would marry Eddy someday, if her plans succeeded.
Today the royal family was gathered for a baptism, not a wedding. Princess Louise—the older of Eddy and George’s two sisters—stood next to her husband, the Duke of Fife, holding a bundle of lace and white silk.
“Your Grace, Your Royal Highness,” the archbishop called out, gesturing to the parents. “Please present the candidate for baptism.”
The couple stepped forward, exchanging the same adoring smiles that May had seen at their wedding. So much had happened to her since then. She’d set her sights on Prince Eddy, fallen for his brother George, realized that those feelings for George were hopeless. And now here she was, right back where she’d started. Living under her parents’ roof and desperate to get out.
May stole a glance across the chapel. Apparently, Uncle Alfred—Queen Victoria’s second son—was here, along with his wife, Marie, and their two daughters, Missy and Victoria Melita, known in the family as Ducky. May craned her neck, but she couldn’t see much of Missy except a few dark curls. She was hidden behind her taller, ganglier sister.
