Page 23 of How Not to Marry a Prince

Marcellette stole back her fan and opened it with a snap. "Rumor has it you bought up her lover's debts and forgave them."

"Yes? Because they were really her father's debts, and it was stupid they couldn't marry because of a reason that was so trivial to me. Buying up debts is hardly remarkable."

"Hmm…" Marcellette said. "What about Prince Michael? Prince Rolf? Lord Demesne? Haddarow? Qwelling?"

Amador rolled his eyes. "I don't think helping people out here and there is anything remarkable. It's hardly difficult to look over tax documents, or loan money, or assist with a negotiation. I am royalty—we are supposed to do those things. His Majesty and Prince Nazaire do the same sorts of things every day."

"I don't think either one of them has traveled the world to do it, and never asked for a single thing in return," Vladlena said. "The stories really are remarkable."

"Why is everyone talking about me?" Amador muttered into his tea.

"Because a certain someone asked questions, which set off a ripple effect, and now you are the talk of the palace, darling," Marcellette said with entirely too much glee. "A charming little prince spreading good fortune wherever he goes."

Amador rolled his eyes again. "I think the stories have, as they so often do, gotten blown massively out of proportion." How charming and whatever else could he really be, when nobody ever thought he was worth keeping? He helped, he was thanked, he went on his way. His desperate bid to avoid the fate of marrying Ottokar had gotten him an overblown reputation for being a soft touch, and that was it.

"You're a darling," Marcellette said, practically cooing the words. "Someone should consider himself extremely fortunate you're still available."

"I don't think anyone cares where I'm available or not, except Ottokar. Could we talk about something else, please?"

Vladlena motioned sharply when Marcellette pouted and tried to protest. "Of course, I apologize we've made you uncomfortable."

"Yes, yes," Marcellette said. "So do you have any further plans here at Portan?"

At that, Amador smiled. "I may have some thoughts about tonight, if you care to accompany me to the garden again, milady."

Vladlena narrowed her eyes, staring first at Amador and then Marcellette. "What garden visit, you troublemakers?"

"Why, the one where we watch you assist a certain stubborn gardener sneak roses into a certain royal's chambers."

"Oh, for the love of—" Vladlena's head fell back as she groaned-sighed. "I should have known you were there! How did I never once think 'I should check the hedges for the mischief making love of my life'?"

Marcellette giggled into her fan. "Indeed, you should have. So we'll see you tonight, darling? I want to see what our clever, matchmaking prince here has come up with."

"Nothing even remotely impressive. Simplicity is the key. Now if you will excuse me, ladies, I must go hold up my end of the bargain with the good baron and attend a few other matters. Thank you for inviting me to tea."

Marcellette fluttered her fan. "Ta, darling. Until tonight."

"Until tonight," Amador replied dryly before bowing and departing.

Back in his room, he changed into clothes more suitable for getting some work done and then settled at his desk, where the packages from the stationery shop waited. Unwrapping them, he put everything neatly away, lingering over the beautiful inks, a set of twenty, each one a different jewel-toned color. More than he strictly needed, but he absolutely did not care.

Once his desk was set, he opened the letter from Lipovsky that had been waiting for him as well, and sent it off with a letter of his own to the bank so the money could be transferred. After that he drafted a long letter to his parents detailing why he absolutely would not marry Ottokar, all that Ottokar had done to him over the years, emphasizing the recent events in Portan and how bad it looked for their respective families.

He doubted the letter would accomplish anything, but he believed in being thorough.

After that, he caught up on the correspondence that Soledad had set in a tidy pile for him. When all that was finally done a couple of hours later, he wrote out notes of thanks to his bodyguards and a short letter of thanks to Sohan, then carried them to the table where the gifts waited, neatly wrapped in silk kerchiefs, marked for him by Soledad. Affixing the notes, Amador summoned Edu to deliver them all, save for Sohan's gift, which he wanted to deliver personally.

His chores concluded, there was nothing else for him to do for the day, so he put out the card to signal he'd eat in his room that night and went to take a nap.

When he woke a few hours later, the room was quiet, no sound, save the scratch of pen on paper as Soledad worked at his desk, and the pop-crackle of the fire. "What time is it?"

"Just past eleven, Your Highness," Soledad replied, not pausing in his writing.

Amador jolted. "So late? How did I sleep so long?"

Bibiana clucked her tongue as she came out of the dressing room carrying a jacket she was slowly embroidering. "Mercy alive, Your Highness, you slept so long because you needed the rest. Don't think you've gotten proper sleep in an age, what with one thing and another."

Well, there was no denying that. "Did I miss anything important?"

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