Page 37 of Awestruck (Starstruck Love Stories #4)

The rest of the dinner passes quietly, with conversations few and far between.

It seems no one wishes to start another debate, for which I am grateful, so any talk that breaks the silence keeps to unimportant topics such as the weather or the food.

Rensvik spends most of the time glowering at his food and avoiding eye contact with me, and I can only imagine the conversation I will have with my mother as soon as she finds out.

In my defense, I came to the party. I have been here the entire time, and I have interacted with the nobles. Those were her requirements.

When dinner ends and the group adjourns to the drawing room, I am not surprised when Markham comes straight for me.

“Your Highness,” he says with a bow.

I smile. “Freya, please.”

Glancing around the room and finding my bodyguard absent, I am guessing, he returns my smile. “Is that because we’re friends or because you’ve made a decision?”

Instead of the answer he wants to hear, I say, “It is because you are one of three people in this room who do not test my patience.”

He chuckles. “Are you sure about that? Because I do need an answer. Soon. Ideally we could announce our engagement at the debate tomorrow, but if—”

“Announce your what?” Hex asks loudly from just behind me.

I shut my eyes and grimace. I had been doing so well at keeping the proposal a secret from everyone but Elliot. Until now, apparently. “Hex, please do not panic.”

My brother wraps an arm around my shoulders, his hold so tight it is almost painful. “Tell me I heard you wrong, Grim,” he growls. “Or do Sander and I need to have a private word with you? I like your politics, but that doesn’t mean I like the idea of you marrying my sister.”

“Forgive me,” Grimstad says, quietly enough that I open my eyes to see the apology in his eyes. “I assumed you told them.”

“It’s true?” Hex hisses. I try to slip from beneath his arm, but he holds me tight. “Does Elliot know about this?”

“Yes,” I whisper. “It is true, and he knows. Would you stop glaring at Markham? You are drawing too much attention.”

“You are the future Queen of Candora,” Hex all but spits. “You draw the attention on your own, especially if you’re even thinking of tying yourself to this cretin.”

“Hex,” I snap. “Be kind.”

“Not to him.” Hex grits his teeth, sneering at the man in front of me. “Not if he’s daft enough to suggest something so ridiculous.”

“It is not ridiculous!” I argue, though I regret saying anything when Markham’s eyebrows lift. I cannot have him assuming that is an answer to his proposal.

“When?” Hex demands.

By now, most in the room have caught on to my brother’s tension, including Sander, and there are far too many eyes and ears trained on us for me to want to have this conversation.

As Sander makes his way across the room, I gesture for Markham to follow, and I pinch Hex’s side to get him to release me so I can walk.

Only when the four of us are alone in the corridor outside the drawing room do I speak again.

“Yes,” I say with exasperation. “Markham proposed to me when we were in Havenford.” Sander’s eyes fly wide, and Hex starts to protest, but I hold up a finger. “No, I have not given him an answer.”

“Why?” Sander asks, his eyes on Markham, and I am not certain who his question is for.

Markham chooses to respond before I can. “Because my campaign has divided the country, and I thought a union would help both sides.”

“You could have chosen not to run in the first place,” Sander says icily.

“I could have,” Markham agrees. “But I firmly believe that Candora needs reform, and I didn’t know for sure where your sister would stand.” He looks at me and dips his head. “I’m sorry, Freya. There was no way to know what you—”

“She’s ‘Your Highness’ to you,” Hex says with another glare.

“I gave him permission to use my name,” I reply, rolling my eyes.

“And Elliot knows?” Sander asks in disbelief. “He’s okay with whatever this is?” He waves a hand between Markham and me.

Elliot and I may not have discussed the matter for long in the coach today, but I can guess his opinion. It likely has not changed from what it was initially. “Elliot does not approve,” I admit.

“Of course he doesn’t,” Hex says. “Not when he’s fall—”

Sander elbows him in the side. “Freya, are you considering it? Saying yes?”

I look at Markham, though a large part of me wants Hex to finish his sentence. “Yes, I am considering.”

The smile Markham gives me in return is soft and should, in theory, bring some sort of peace to my admission, but it makes me nauseous.

Markham is a good man. I believe that, even if there is much to learn about him.

On paper, he could be the best match I could ever find.

He is ambitious and strong-willed, and he has the Candorans’ best interests at heart.

No, he does not come from nobility, but that only adds to his appeal after that dinner I endured.

I need to give my regrets to the Duke of Rensvik for disrupting his party and, unfortunately, leaving early, because I cannot go back into that room full of nobles.

Markham is right, and I need to decide sooner than later, but to do that I need time to think.

Time to talk things through with people I trust.

I should have done this days ago.

Touching my hand to Markham’s arm, I offer a small smile. “I need more time,” I tell him. “But soon. I promise.”

“Of course.”

“Sander, could you make our excuses to the duke?”

Sander meets Hex’s gaze, unenthused by the turn in the conversation, but he nods and slips back into the drawing room.

I take Hex’s arm. “I need some air.”

“I’m not surprised,” he grumbles in reply and leads me outside to the courtyard of Rensvik’s sprawling estate, leaving Markham on his own inside.

I hope Markham stays for the duration of the party; he could benefit from more time with the noble class, just as I needed more time with the working class.

Though a few guards notice us and take a step toward me, I hold them back with a raised hand. As before, I wish Elliot were here. This is not a conversation I would like him to hear, but I could use his support.

Honestly, I think I might crave his support in everything I do at this point.

“I need a moment alone,” I tell Hex.

He narrows his eyes. “Why?”

“Because I want to speak to my friends, and you do not need to be part of that conversation.”

Mumbling under his breath, Hex moves several meters away and folds his arms, telling me that he will not go any farther. It will have to do.

Pulling my phone from my clutch, I open the group I have with my friends and start a video call, hardly caring who answers. I need advice, and I will take it from any of them.

The call connects, and I wait to see which of my friends picks up first.

To my surprise, it is Hank, a man I have not had much of a chance to talk to since he and Bonnie started dating six months ago. I have only met him a few times, but I have always liked him.

“Freya!” he says, his smile warm and bright. His gentle personality is a complete antithesis to the murder mysteries he writes, and I love the contradiction he presents. “How’s the campaign going?”

Relaxing a bit, I return his smile with one of my own.

Over the last few days, I have spoken with my friends more than I usually do, but Hank has only been on a call once, as he is on a deadline.

I am grateful for his question and the fact that he cares, even if we have not known each other long.

“Better than I expected, after the way it started.”

“That’s good to hear. Bonnie has been keeping up on all the Hot Scoop stories, and they don’t seem to be causing any real problems for you. Hopefully things stay that way.”

It is not Hot Scoop causing the problems, no.

It is the tension that built so quickly between Elliot and me once we became friends.

Tension that people have started to notice and is a large part of why it is so difficult to make my decision about Markham.

I have known Elliot for only a couple of weeks longer than I have known Markham, but Markham does not make me feel what I feel with Elliot.

“No,” I mutter, reminding myself of why I made this call. It was not to think about my bodyguard. “I suppose Hot Scoop does not have much power this far from its origin.”

No one else has joined the call, and I wonder what the others are doing right now. It is the middle of the day in California, so they must all be busy. Derek is always busy, but I cannot always expect the others to answer spontaneous calls.

“So,” Hank says, and his eyebrows lift enough to tell me he has realized I had a reason for calling.

I sigh and look behind me to make sure all of the guards except Hex are out of earshot. “So,” I repeat. “I received a proposal recently.”

“What kind of proposal?”

“The literal kind.” A surprising smile lifts the corners of my mouth as I use Markham’s own words. If it were not me in the situation, I might find it all rather humorous.

Hank’s eyebrows rise higher. “Like, someone asked you to marry them?”

I twist my lips to the side. “Yes.”

Eyes going wide, he sits up straighter. It looks like he is in the house he bought in Los Angeles a few months ago, and I wonder if I interrupted a writing session with this call. I am grateful he answered, if that is the case. “Wait, you’re serious?”

I nod gravely. “Entirely.”

“Who asked you? A crazy fan? Because that happens to Bonnie all the time, and they’re never serious. Well, they are serious, but it’s not like she would ever—”

“It was Markham Grimstad.”

Hank blinks. “The man who’s running against you?”

“The very one.”

“Is he really that desperate to be king?”