Ilsa was heartbroken for Katrin. As well, she couldn’t help wondering about her own fertility. She’d been putting off her next specialist’s appointment. Now she realised she didn’t want to hear what the doctor might say.
‘I always liked her husband,’ Ilsa’s mother said. ‘I’d never have believed it of him. They were so in love.’
‘Love doesn’t guarantee happiness,’ Ilsa murmured.
It hadn’t for her.
She tucked her knees up against her chest. Life was delivering one blow after another.
‘True.’ Her mother sighed. ‘But nor does an arranged marriage.’ She paused. ‘For what it’s worth I thought that engagement to Lucien wasn’t a good idea. I let myself be persuaded. That’s no excuse, but...’
‘What happened wasn’t your fault.’ Funny, to be the one reassuring her mother.
‘Nevertheless, it was one thing, you agreeing to marry Justin when you’d known each other for years. It was another to expect you to marry his heir, no matter how useful it was diplomatically. We should have given you both more time.’
Ilsa’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. It was the first time her mother had voiced doubt about something the King had decided.
‘We’ve asked a lot of you over the years, darling. So I understand you needing a break now. I just wish you’d come home.’
A wave of warmth engulfed Ilsa. Her mother was worried, not because of the press or the political fallout from her actions, but because she cared.
‘I’ll think about it. But you’re right. I need a break. That’s easier here where my PA can’t schedule every hour of the day for me.’
Her mother chuckled and Ilsa heard amusement as well as concern in her voice. ‘Fair enough. I’ll talk to your father, try to divert him. But promise me you’ll take care of yourself.’ She paused. ‘I could always fly over and keep you company.’
Like when Ilsa was a teenager and her mother had travelled with her through North America. But this time Ilsa didn’t need time or distance to discover she couldn’t have the man she wanted. She knew it all too well.
Her mouth crumpled as emotion clogged her throat.
‘Thanks,’ she murmured. ‘But I’m fine. I just need a little more time.’
As she ended the call Ilsa felt the ache inside fill her to the brim. The heartbreak she’d felt as a teenager seemed absurd and insignificant by comparison.
She wished she could spend another day alone but the longer she holed up, the harder it would be, facing the public. She’d forced herself out once or twice this last week, but it had taken such effort.
Besides, she had an appointment she couldn’t miss. One thing this time alone had given her was a chance to ponder what she wanted to do with her life.
Be with Noah Carson.
Ilsa winced and ignored the needy voice in her head.
She wanted to love and be loved. She wanted a long-term relationship and she wanted children. Which she wouldn’t get hiding away. And if, as she feared, she couldn’t have a family of her own, she could do her bit to help children in need. That had crystallised in her mind after talking with Noah. Something positive she could accomplish.
This afternoon’s appointment would be a step in that direction.
She lowered her feet to the floor and stood up, stretching.
Her heart might be broken, and she was still tortured by thoughts of the man she loved, but she had to try to get on with her life.
Ilsa stepped out of the conference room in the grand Mayfair hotel. She was glad she’d attended the session. It had been as interesting as she’d hoped and she’d made useful contacts. She’d stayed back talking with a couple of the presenters, one from New York and the other from Australia. Their stories gave her hope that a similar initiative might be feasible in Altbourg.
She smiled and nodded goodbye to the other attendees still milling around the foyer, turning to leave, and blundered into someone.
‘Ilsa.’ A hand caught her elbow and she froze.
For a second she couldn’t look up, just stood, absorbing the feel of that large hand on her arm and the rough velvet brush of his voice trawling through her.
She breathed out slowly, searching for calm as her pulse skittered and her mouth dried.