Page 101 of A Queen's Match
“You know that’s not true!”
“I don’t know anything about you anymore, May! I thought you were different. And I did love you.”
The past tense of that statement seemed to echo viciously around the garden.
“When Eddy got engaged to you…that’s the only time in my life I remember truly hating him.” All the fight seemed to have drained from George’s voice. “Eddy always got everything he wanted, and I had never minded before, but then he hadyou.And he didn’t even appreciate you! He saw you as a placeholder, a person to wear the crown while he did as he pleased. Eddy had no idea what a gem you are—at least, that’s what I thought at the time,” George went on gruffly. “Now I’m not sure.”
May dared to step forward, taking his hands. To her surprise, he let her.
“You can be sure of this, George. I love you. I did some things that I am not proud of, but we are here now. You and I can have a second chance. I’m sorry about Eddy,” she added hastily, not wanting to sound insensitive. “I hate that this is how we got here. But don’t you think we could start over? We still have each other.”
Gently, George pulled his hands from hers.
“No, May,” he said with heartbreaking finality. “I will continue to be cordial to you in public, which you deserve, as my late brother’s fiancée. But do not speak another word in this vein. I refuse to hear it.”
He was angry with her for hurting Hélène, and Missy, and Alix. Or perhaps he still didn’t trust that she loved him for himself, rather than his title. Either way, he was telling her no.
May wished she hadn’t waited so long to tell George how she felt. She could have professed her love for him a thousand times over, but she had always held back, out of…what? A fear of being rejected, as she was now?
“I am sorry,” she said again.
George nodded once, curtly, then turned on his heel and walked off.
May stayed in the garden until her hands grew numb from the cold, even in her leather gloves. For so long she had been proud of herself—of her cleverness, her foresight. Now she just felt a hollow sense of regret. She had made so many mistakes, mistakes that were still playing out their consequences.
When she finally started back toward Windsor, May noticed icicles hanging from the branches of a nearby tree. They looked like frozen tears.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Alix
“Can you hand me sometwine?” Ernie was poised on the top step of the ladder, positioning a candle on the fir tree.
“Not until you move that candle higher,” Johann insisted.
“It’s perfectly spaced!”
“Alix, tell your brother how wrong he is,” Johann pleaded, turning to her. “We have a better view of the tree than he does.”
Smiling, Alix reached for the box of twine. “Sorry, Ernie, but Johann is right.”
“Of course. I’m always right,” Johann teased.
Ernie barked out a laugh as he caught the twine that Alix tossed to him.
The three of them had spent a lot of time together lately. In another household it would have been impossible, but here in Darmstadt, in a smaller house with a close-knit staff, they could get away with unusual behavior.
When they were alone, Alix treated Johann the way she would treat anyone that her brother loved. And so Ernie and Johann were open with Alix, letting her see the things they would normally have kept hidden—the way they laughed together; the glances they exchanged in amusement, or exasperation, or affection.
No one spoke about the fact that this would all have to stop once Ernie married Ducky.
Alix tried not to think about that. Or the fact that this was her last Christmas as the mistress of Darmstadt. Next year Ducky would be the one pulling out the decorations, arranging them in their proper places, wrapping them away at the end of the season with loving care.
Alix paused, glancing out the window at the town’s familiar streets. Smoke rose up from chimneys in the distance. So far the snow had only been a light dusting, but Alix knew that heavy snowfalls would come soon enough, the streets vanishing beneath a glittering blanket of white.
She blinked; a rider had turned down the avenue toward the house. He sat his horse easily, a dark cloak fluttering out behind him.
It was Maximilian.
