Page 98 of A Royal Mistake

There was no fucking way she’d accept a proposal from Gabriel. She hated that guy. He was arrogant and rude and completely self-absorbed. He was all wrong for her. Pippa needed a man who shared her desire to make the world a better place, one who saw just how bright she could shine with or without her crown, someone who appreciated her determination and passion. Someone who would love her fiercely—with their whole heart—exactly as she was. Someone who would never ask her to change, not for the crown, not for anything.

What she needed was someone like him.

The prince shrugged. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that. Rumor has it Their Majesties are already planning the wedding. Sounds like it’s going to be a springtime affair.” He drummed his fingers idly on the arm of the chair. “That’ll give them what, seven or eight months to plan the thing? More than enough time, don’t you think?”

Henry’s breath caught in his throat. The prospect of Pippa marrying the Spanish heir was like a knife to the gut, sharp and brutal. It couldn’t be true. Surely Pippa wouldn’t go through with it. Not when she loved…

Did she still love him? Because he damn sure still loved her and he wouldn’t stand idly by while she announced her engagement to another man. He had to make this right, to show her he was the only man for her. It might be a long shot, but he had to try. He’d never quit anything in his life and he wasn’t about to start with Pippa. He wouldn’t give up on her, on them. She might not want him, might even turn him away, but at least he’d know he’d laid it all on the line.

“I think,” Henry said, climbing to his feet, “that I have a lot of work to do if I want to earn back Pippa’s trust and win her heart.”

The prince rose to his feet and extended his hand. “Good luck.”

“Thanks.” Henry met him halfway, giving his hand a firm shake as an idea took shape in his mind. “I have a feeling I’m going to need it.”

23

Pippa drained a champagne flute—hersecond of the night—but the bubbly did little to lift her spirits. Independence Day had always been her favorite holiday and she couldn’t remember a year when she hadn’t looked forward to the palace’s end of summer celebration. She loved the food, the fireworks, and the sense of pride that coursed through her veins, but for the first time in her life, she wasn’t feeling it.

Oh, the celebration was as grand as any the palace had ever hosted. The gardens were alight with gilded lanterns and live music carried on the cooling summer air as the sun sank into the horizon, leaving a breathtaking sunset in its wake. A buffet large enough to feed a small country had been erected on the patio and courtiers milled about the lawn dressed in their finest Valerian blue and gold. Many, like the royal family, wore gold Valerian falcon brooches over their hearts as was the tradition.

It was an evening of celebration and state pride and any other time, she would’ve reveled in it.

No, the problem wasn’t the party. It was her.

“Can I get you another drink, Your Highness?” The Prince of Asses gestured to her empty glass. For a split second, she considered declining, but what the hell. Besides, if he went to get a refill, she’d have a few minutes of peace. He’d been chatting her ear off all evening, monopolizing her time as if to ward off any of the other suitors.

Not that it made a damn bit of difference. The men were practically interchangeable. And none of them could hold a candle to Henry.

Henry.

Her heart clenched at the thought of him and in that moment, she would’ve traded her trust fund to see his smiling face in the gardens. She’d grown used to his presence at the palace and though it pained her to admit it, she missed him keenly. He got her like no one else did, and now he was gone.

She sighed. Would it always hurt so badly to think of him?

“Philippa?”

Shaking off all thoughts of Henry, she forced a smile and handed her glass to Prince Gabriel. “A drink would be lovely.” If nothing else, it would dull the pain of her broken heart. “Could you also fetch me one of those strawberry tarts I saw earlier? They looked divine.”

She’d already eaten three of them, but he didn’t need to know that.

The prince scurried away as if bringing her a fresh glass of champagne might be the act that finally won her favor.

Like that will ever happen.

Pippa smiled and waved to a few tongue-wagging courtiers, quickly shifting her attention so as not to invite conversation. When would this bloody celebration end? They hadn’t even set off fireworks yet, and she was already counting down the minutes until she could make her excuses and slink back to her suite to wallow in private.

No, not wallow. Wallowing was for whingers and she wasnota whinger.

She just needed time to regroup. Time to assess her plans and determine her next steps.

Summer was officially winding down and soon enough she’d have her trust, her foundation, and everything she’d ever wanted.

Everything except Henry.

No sense dwelling on the past. What’s done is done.

Right. She needed to focus on the future. On moving on. With Stanley International.