Page 48 of A Queen's Match
“George, I…”I am happy,May needed to say. That was the correct response to George’s question: that she would marry his brother and was delighted about it. That she hadchosenthis.
For some reason, her mouth didn’t form the words.
“You can still change your mind if you’re having second thoughts.” George spoke so quietly that she had to lean closer to hear him. “It’s not even in the papers yet, which means it’s not really official. If you need help getting out of it…”
May felt dizzy. The rest of the world—the sun beating down on her through the fabric of her lace sleeves, the clamor of haggling and laughter and the jingling of harnesses—all of it receded, as if she were in a dream.
What are you saying?she longed to ask George.Are you not engaged to Missy after all?
A sliver of doubt worked its way into her mind. What if she had misread all his interactions with Missy, seeing romance where there was nothing but friendship? Queen Victoria clearly wanted to push them together, but perhaps that didn’t matter. Victoria was always shuffling and reshuffling her grandchildren into various royal families, playing a generations-long game of dynastic chess across the thrones of Europe.
Perhaps May had heard all the gossip about George and Missy and had made the mistake of believing it.
“I don’t…” she began.
“May! Look what I have for you!”
May was prevented from elaborating by the arrival of Missy, who brandished a crown of vivid pink flowers. She placed it triumphantly on May’s head. “It fits you perfectly!All hail our future queen!” Missy proclaimed, folding forward into an elaborate bow.
How typically Missy,May thought, with an uncharitable flare of anger. Always causing a scene, always making everything abouther.
People were beginning to stare. Missy’s words were repeated in murmurs, then again, louder—our future queen! She’s the one engaged to Prince Eddy! Who is she?
May was on display now. This scene would be reported, repeated. The private drama playing out between her and George, whatever it was, had ended. She felt a pang of frustration, but what could she do?
She had agreed to this: to a life of unending public performance.
“I’m sorry, did I miss something?” Missy asked blithely, looking from May to George. “May, you look pale.”
“Of course. Let’s get our future queen out of the sun,” George said gruffly. Eddy had walked up, clearly curious about the commotion, and George nodded to him. “I was just congratulating May on your engagement.”
“Thank you,” Eddy told his brother, and held out an arm for May.
She forced a smile in Missy’s direction. “The crown is lovely. You shouldn’t have.”
It wasn’t until she reached the carriage at the end of the street that May saw something white drift by in her peripheral vision, only to be stomped on the cobblestones by someone’s boot.
It was the mayflower George had given her.
Chapter Twenty
Hélène
Another night, another room inan unfamiliar house.
At least the Quirinal Palace had wonderful bedcovers, so soft that Hélène felt like she was drifting on a cloud. The Italians had always been good at creature comforts—food, fine linens, wine—perhaps as a counterweight to the constant spirituality of living so near the pope.
Not that Hélène was currently able to enjoy any of those creature comforts.
She kept alternating between anguish, and self-recrimination, and anger: at herself, and at Eddy. Clearly, she should have risked the consequences and let him in on her plans. But what had Eddy been thinking, getting engaged to May? The queen was threatening him with a three-year tour, yes, but he was hardly about to be shipped off in the middle of the regatta. What had prompted him to make that announcement?
The morning after that party, Nicholas had come to breakfast and announced that he and Vladimir were returning to Russia. “I’m so sorry, but we need to leave the regatta straightaway,” he’d told Hélène’s parents. “ThePolar Starwill be going to Calais, to let us disembark so we can travel overland. Please feel free to stay aboard; the yacht is heading to the Black Sea, if you’d like to make some stops along theway.”
Hélène’s parents had been so delighted at the prospect of a Mediterranean cruise that they weren’t even upset about anchoring in Calais, where they would have to stare mournfully at the forbidden shores of France.
“What happened?” Hélène had whispered the moment she was alone with Nicholas.
He looked utterly heartbroken as he replied, “Alix ended things.”
