Page 108 of A Queen's Match
“Yes,” May murmured. “Again, I am sorry.”
“My dear, I appreciate the apology, but Missy’s marriage is hardly your fault. Did you make her walk in the gardens with Ferdinand? Did you insist she linger there, kissing him for so long that they were discovered? I’m afraid Missy has only herself to blame for this turn of events,” the queen said crisply. “Though, May, I will expect you to exercise more discretion in the future. A future queen does not engage in idle gossip, especially not about a family member.”
May nodded, her heart pounding. “Of course, Your Majesty.”
“What about Alix?” George demanded, looking from May to his grandmother.
“What about her, George?” the queen asked, with mounting irritation. “Are you saying that you would rather marry her? She did just break things off with that sweet Maximilian of Baden, but still…”
“No, I’m talking about how May kept Alix from marrying Eddy!” George blustered. “May has been cruel, and heartless,and—”
“Alix never wanted to marry Eddy! Quit spouting nonsense, George,” the queen snapped. “You are going to marry May. That is my final decision.”
“But I do not love her!”
Victoria set down her teacup with a loud clatter. May flinched.
“George, you are a future king now! You are no longer the second brother who gets to do as he wishes! You have a responsibility toward this family and this nation, and I command you, as my heir, to fulfill both!”
There was another long silence. May waited for George to deliver the killing blow, to tell the queen that May had blackmailed Hélène.
But he just stood, his expression blank, and bowed at the waist. “Very well, Your Majesty. I will do as you command.”
The queen sighed. Morning light streamed in through the windows, illuminating her face. For the first time May could remember, Victoria looked like an old woman, rather than the ageless queen who had led this nation for over half a century.
She turned to May. “You have said nothing, my dear. Are you opposed to this, as well?”
“Oh, no—I mean, I would be honored to marry George.” May looked at him, willing him to meet her gaze, but he was still staring pointedly away. “Not because you are a future king, George, but because I love you. My engagement to Eddy…Well, you know we never loved each other. It has been different with you, from the beginning.”
“It’s settled, then,” the queen declared, with quiet satisfaction. “This will make the nation so happy. A joyful ending to a very tragic story. Now I think I shall leave you two.” Thequeen rose; May and George both bobbed to their feet, like marionettes tugged on a string, so they were not seated while Her Majesty stood. “Georgie, dear, I’m sure May would appreciate a real proposal, not one from me,” Victoria added. Then she swept into the hall, leaving them alone.
May would have been shocked at the lack of propriety if every fiber of her being hadn’t been focused on George. On his nearness, the rise and fall of his chest. She waited, her every nerve alight, for what he would say next.
“May, would you marry me?” he asked.
This was all wrong; George wasn’t looking at her, his gaze fixed on the wallpaper behind her, as if he were reciting a script.
“Yes,” May agreed, “but please, George, look at me? I want us to be happy—”
He gave a caustic laugh. “It has never mattered in this family whether I was happy. Her Majesty has commanded me to marry you, and if there’s one thing I always do, it’s my duty. That’s me, the reliable second son until the end.”
His voice was flinty and hard and unyielding. It hurt some quiet and vulnerable place deep within her, hearing him speak to her without the usual tenderness.
“George, I love you!” May wrung her hands fiercely. She was still wearing her engagement ring from Eddy; it dug angrily into her skin. “I love you, and while I regret the things I have done, I don’t regret a moment I’ve spent with you.”
“You can spare me whatever speech you’ve rehearsed,” he said wearily. “I’m sure it’s very pretty, but it’s wasted on me. I loved you so much once. Not anymore.”
“Please, I don’t—”
“You canstop,May. You’re going to get what you’ve always wanted; you’re going to be queen. Isn’t that enough?”
“But it isn’t what I want anymore! I wantyou!”
May couldn’t believe she was here. That after all she’d done, she would somehow get everything she’d wanted—George, and the Crown.
Except that she didn’t actually have George. Not in the way that mattered.
She had his hand, but not his heart. And it was his heart she wanted: that sweet, thoughtful, wondrous heart, which had loved her for so long, without reservations and without constraint.
