Page 19 of Marry a King (Five Kings 5)

Maxim

William Brookes-Stanley is one of the good guys. I could tell that the minute I swept into the room, and he stood respectfully with a smile. He is happy, it’s obvious and I’m glad about that because I want his daughter to feel good knowing her parents back my decision.

As requested, he waits on his own for a very important reason and as I approach, I hold out my hand and shake his firmly before saying, “Sir, I have an important request I hope you will accept. May I have the honor of your daughter’s hand in marriage?”

I can tell he’s surprised I’ve come straight out with it but I don’t see the point of waiting. There are no niceties, or small talk in my conversation. I don’t have time for that and I’m relieved when he nods and says happily, “I would be honored, sire. Of course you have my blessing.”

Nodding, I reach for a cigar and offer him one as tradition dictates and as we light them and enjoy a moment of contemplation, I think about the world we live in.

Tradition exists in the modern world and it’s my job to uphold as many of them as possible. My father did his job well and trained me to a point, but I have my own ideas which have probably stemmed from the fact I enjoyed the freedom of education.

I have lived among my fellow Americans and enjoyed the life of a young man in his prime. I loved the freedom that gave me and along with my friends, we took full advantage of that, knowing as soon as we returned to Andromeda, tradition would take over and that freedom would just become a pleasant memory.

My friends have been condemned along with me because they are now my closest confidantes and members of my team. The four of us are detailed with upholding this way of life, and I feel bad for dragging them into this mess just because they’re friends of mine. Even that was engineered because they have been my friends for as long as I can remember. Raised to fulfill the roles that destiny dictates and sometimes I wonder if they would rather a different life. They would never tell me if they did because their loyalty is unshaken and I trust them with my life.

As the clock ticks on the wall, we are interrupted by the arrival of the women and I watch my mother escort Cressida Brookes-Stanley into the room and it’s pretty obvious she is excited, so there is no doubt of her opinion on this.

We stand and she curtsies low to the ground and I push aside my irritation at the usual shit that accompanies any guests of mine. My mother’s warning look tells me to behave and I take her hand to help her rise and smile. “Mrs. Brookes-Stanley, I am happy to make your acquaintance, your daughter is a credit to you.”

“Sire, we are honored.”

She lowers her eyes and thankfully we are interrupted as the woman herself heads into the room and makes my mouth water.

Dressed like a queen in waiting, my bride to be glides into the room as if on rails. Her expression is controlled and if she is pleased to see her parents, she hides it well and just nods and says respectfully, “Good morning.”

Her parents look shocked and my mother disappointed because it appears that Cassie has read the rule book and is putting on a display of regal perfection.

As I contemplate the stiff, emotionless person who stands waiting, I wonder what happened this morning to change the passionate woman I held in my arms last night into this robot.

Her mother looks nervously between us and says softly, “Cassie, darling, you look beautiful.”

“Thank you, mother.”

She bows her head and nods and her father clears his throat. “Well, um, here we are and what a happy occasion it is.”

I see the curious glance he gives his daughter, who is standing like a marble statue, as she waits for direction.

Seeing the diamonds in her hair and the still unyielding posture, it strikes me there is no life left in her at all. My mother looks resigned to something and if I could, I would march my bride back to that gazebo and demand answers because she is nothing like the woman I watched walk into that graduation ball with a slightly wild look in her eyes and a defiance that reached out and held my interest.

We take our seats and I find myself studying her as we make polite conversation and my mother discusses the details of the wedding with hers.

Luckily, she is more excited about this than anyone and it covers up the fact my bride does not participate in any way. She eats her food, drinks her coffee and looks at no one as if she’s locked inside her own little world.

Feeling bad for her father, I try to engage him in conversation.

“Sir, we should arrange to go hunting. I heard you are a fan.”

“I am, I would be honored.”

He flicks a quick look at his daughter and says nervously, “I have got out of the habit though, my daughter doesn’t approve.”

I look at her and say wickedly, “It’s the sport of kings, hunting is in our blood.”

There is still no reaction, and she carries on cutting her fruit and staring at the plate as if she’s not even part of this meal.

“Do you shoot?”

William nods, “Clays mainly, for, um, obvious reasons.”

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