Page 10

Chapter 10

Olivia

O livia fumed as her carriage rolled away from the palace. But not even the heat of her anger at the insufferable prince could last for long. She was too overwhelmed and stunned to maintain her irritation. Nothing about the night had gone as she had expected.

Not only had Marigold completely disappeared, but instead of enjoying a night of food and dancing and fun with her friend, she was now betrothed to the crown prince.

She let out a crack of laughter. There didn’t seem any other possible response to such a ridiculous situation. Part of her was still expecting to wake up in bed and find it had all been a dream. Except she wasn’t sure her imagination was capable of coming up with such a scenario.

What would her aunt and uncle think? What would her parents and younger brothers back in Henton think? She burst into fresh laughter, tears running down her face. She couldn’t even imagine their faces when the news reached them. Just the betrothal was bad enough. If the king and queen didn’t find a way to dissolve it, Olivia’s family would have to travel to the capital to attend their daughter’s royal wedding. It was completely incomprehensible.

But as she considered her aunt’s reaction, her mirth quickly subsided. Aunt Helen was going to be delighted. Uncomfortably so.

She might briefly bemoan that it had been Olivia to befriend Marigold and not one of her own daughters, but she had never expected either of her girls to marry the crown prince. Like everyone else, she must have been expecting to see a girl of substance and position arrive in the glass slippers. Apparently, only ignorant country girls with no experience of the Midsummer Ball could have been unaware of the once-in-a-generation arrangements at this particular ball.

Olivia raked through her memory, trying to find any instances where she had missed the obvious. With so much added context, she could understand a number of comments more clearly in retrospect. People had been abuzz with talk of the prince turning twenty-one and his parents finally arranging a marriage for him. It had often been mentioned alongside the ball, but she hadn’t understood the connection. She had imagined that the ball was special merely because it was the last opportunity to dance with the prince before he was wed.

She shook her head at her own foolishness. If she hadn’t avoided the topic of the ball with her cousins out of jealousy, she might have eventually heard enough to piece together the truth. And then she wouldn’t have landed in such a quagmire.

Fresh outrage filled her as she thought of the true cause of her present predicament. How could Marigold have betrayed her so?

It wasn’t only conversation about the ball that seemed obvious in hindsight. Her friend had been bothered by something—a conflict with her father—and it was now easy to guess the cause of the conflict. Marigold’s father had informed her of her betrothal to Prince Julius, and Marigold had begun plotting a way out. Olivia had even seen the fateful idea hit Marigold and had feared it would be outrageous. But not even her past experience with Marigold had prepared her for how outrageous.

Her friend’s motivation for gifting Olivia with a custom gown and glass slippers was now glaringly obvious. Olivia just wished she had questioned Marigold further beforehand.

But even if Marigold had sent Olivia in alone to confound the king and queen’s plans, how could she then abandon Olivia to the unfolding situation? Had she truly thought sending a letter was enough? Marigold had taken the blame in it, but what if the king and queen hadn’t believed her written words? They might have blamed Olivia and punished her or her family for Olivia’s role in the charade. The circumstances that had forced the royals into continuing with the betrothal might have been the only thing staying their hand.

And even without any blame being assigned to her, Olivia felt the betrothal was its own punishment. She could only imagine what the members of court would think of her for thrusting herself on them. She wasn’t likely to have an easy time of it. And if the worst happened, she might find herself tied for life to the man from the hill, of all people.

She had always imagined that she would marry one day, and that when she did, she would find not only a lifelong love, but also someone to work beside her and support her. She had pictured the two of them as a team against anything life might throw at them, just as her parents had always been. But her betrothed had just suggested she stay silent and out of the way to avoid inconveniencing him or his family. If it came to a wedding, she would end up stuck in a position she was ill-equipped to fill with no one to support her.

Tears welled in her eyes, slipping out and running down her cheek. For a few moments, the ball had seemed as magical as she had dreamed, despite its strangeness. The prince had even apologized to her. But that had all been part of an act.

Everything he had done after she arrived at the ball had been part of a role he was playing. He had thought she was his bride, chosen for him by his parents. No wonder he had wanted to start fresh and make sure she didn’t repeat the story of his foolishness to members of the court.

The tears broke the hold she was barely keeping on her emotions, and within moments she was sobbing without restraint in the back of the carriage. But she didn’t have the luxury of a private breakdown. All too soon the carriage stopped, and she heard a groom dismounting.

Choking back tears, she wiped at her face just as he pulled open the door and let down the steps. Keeping her head bowed, she murmured polite appreciation and fled from the carriage into the haven of her aunt and uncle’s home.

But even the manor wasn’t guaranteed to provide privacy for long. How soon before her aunt and cousins arrived home? And would they dare to come into her bedchamber if she was already in bed when they appeared?

And what of Marigold? Olivia wanted to go straight next door and demand to see her friend, but despite everything, she couldn’t bring herself to pound on Lord Emerson’s door in the middle of the night. Even if she tried, she would likely be sent away by a haughty butler, with the end result that she would run into her aunt and cousins when she returned home, unsuccessful. Abandoning the idea, Olivia took the stairs at a run, slipping into her room and locking the door behind her, just in case. She needed a few hours to compose herself before facing her aunt’s shock and joy.

Her thoughts were whirring too quickly for easy sleep, but the emotions of the night had exhausted her, and she did eventually fall into a slumber deep enough that if her aunt knocked on her locked door, she never heard it.

* * *

W hen she woke the next morning, it took Olivia a full minute to grasp that the strange memories in her mind weren’t tangled remnants of her dreams. When the night before came flooding back in full detail, she gasped and slipped straight out of bed, rushing to dress herself as quickly as possible.

Now that daytime had arrived, she had to find Marigold and make her explain herself. Surely there was still a way for Lord Emerson to fix everything.

She flew along the landing, not even thinking of breakfast or her normal morning chores. She nearly bowled Hattie over as her cousin stepped out of her room, barely catching herself in time.

“Olivia!” Hattie squealed, and Olivia winced at the volume.

“Sorry!” she called back, continuing toward the stairs.

If she stayed for a proper apology, Nell and Aunt Helen would appear, and then she might never get away.

“But—Olivia!” Hattie called after her.

Olivia still didn’t slow. She took the stairs two at a time and dashed through the house to a door that led into the walled garden at the back of the manor house. She could move even faster outside, and she soon reached the outer garden wall that gave access to the hill behind Manor Row.

Once actually on the hillside, however, she paused. In her mad dash to get to Marigold, she hadn’t considered the issue of how to approach the Emerson manor. She certainly didn’t have free access to it, never having been inside before. She and Marigold usually met on the hill, either by chance or prior arrangement.

Despite everything that had happened, she didn’t know if she had the courage to march up to their front door and demand admittance. But neither could she return to her own home without making some effort to find her friend. After what Marigold had done to Olivia, Olivia wasn’t going to allow her to hide in her room and let Olivia sort it all out on her own.

After another moment’s hesitation, Olivia approached the outer wall of the neighboring manor. As with her uncle’s manor, a door gave access between the rear of their garden and the hill. In all Olivia’s time with her aunt and uncle, she’d rarely seen it used by anyone but Marigold.

Feeling bold, she tried the door but found it locked. Shrugging, she rapped on it three times—loudly but not too loudly. And then she waited.

When a minute passed and no one came, she grew too impatient to remain still and knocked again. This time using five raps.

A clang sounded on the other side of the wall, making her straighten. If she had to guess, it had sounded like someone dropping a shovel onto a stone path. Her straining ears caught the further sound of footsteps and then the scrape of a bolt being drawn back.

She tried to calm her expression, putting on the best smile she could muster as the door was pulled open a crack and a face looked out at her.

The boy, hovering on the edge of manhood, had the appearance of a gardener’s apprentice, and he wore a look of caution. But when he saw Olivia, his expression changed, an admiring light springing into his eyes.

“Did you knock, miss?” he asked. “I haven’t heard anyone knock here before.”

Olivia tried to look as innocent and appealing as she could. “I’m looking for Lady Marigold. She’s a good friend of mine. Could you send her a message to let her know that Olivia is waiting to meet her on the hill?”

The boy’s face lit up—this time with the familiar light of someone bearing news that was too exciting not to share.

“Can’t do that,” he said breathlessly. “Lady Marigold isn’t here.”

“She isn’t at the manor?” Olivia frowned. It was still early in the morning by Marigold’s usual standards. “Then where is she?”

“That’s just it.” The boy leaned forward and lowered his voice slightly. “Don’t think anyone knows. Not with the way the house is buzzing. Like an upturned beehive it’s been since late last night. The senior gardener has been here for forty years, and he says he’s never seen Lord Emerson so angry. Furious, he is. Threatening to disinherit his own daughter and everything.” The boy shook his head, clearly delighted at so much excitement overtaking the usually orderly manor.

“If you ask me,” he continued, “I think she’s run away.” He declared this opinion with aplomb. “I couldn’t tell you how many times I’ve seen her sneaking out this back door.”

Olivia was too shocked to speak, and the boy hesitated. But after looking at her closely, he regained his confidence and continued.

“I’ve seen her out here with you sometimes. When I was on my break,” he hurried to add. “Is it true you work next door?”

Olivia blinked and nodded, not quite sure what she was agreeing to. Marigold wasn’t at home? From the sound of it, she had never returned after leaving for the ball. So where was she? Had she really run away?

With a sinking feeling, Olivia acknowledged it was a possibility. Her friend had dramatically declared her intention to disappear many times, and Olivia had long ago stopped taking her seriously. But Marigold must have known she had gone too far this time and caused more trouble than even she could handle.

“I see,” Olivia said slowly, trying to think of something she could ask the lad that might give her a clue to Marigold’s whereabouts.

But before she could come up with anything, an older, grizzled voice sounded from behind the boy.

“Oi!” it called. “What are you doing, boy? Latch that door and get back to work!”

The boy winced. “That’s my master!”

His words were apparently explanation enough because the door closed with a soft thud, the scrape of the bolt once again reaching Olivia’s ears.

She blinked at the solid wood. Clearly there was nothing to be gained by knocking again. And even less to be gained by trying the front door. Having heard the state of the household, she was relieved she hadn’t tried it at the start. Who knew how Lord and Lady Emerson would have reacted to the sight of her? They might even have blamed her for the whole thing.

But as she walked slowly back to her own home, she couldn’t think of a single other positive. Marigold was gone, and Olivia was on her own. There was no one who could get her out of her quagmire.

She felt suddenly unanchored, listless without a goal. What was she supposed to do now? Go back to her usual chores?

She laughed, despite herself. Would the royal family be offended if they discovered the girl betrothed to the crown prince scrubbing floors?

An insistent squeak made her swing around. She still had one friend who hadn’t abandoned her.

But the sight of Mildred wiped the brief smile off her face. The mouse was no longer the size of a medium dog. She could now easily be ridden by a small child.

Olivia ran forward to pat Mildred’s silky fur, tears in her eyes. “What have I done to you?” she whispered. How was Mildred going to keep herself hidden now?

More than anything, the physical changes in her furry friend made everything real to Olivia. She was caught in the Legacy’s web with no easy way out.

“Olivia!”

The shout made Mildred squeak again and run for the edge of the hill. Olivia wanted to call her back, but whoever was looking for her in the manor garden would soon turn their attention to the hill.

Sighing, she slipped into her aunt and uncle’s garden. She had barely closed the door in the wall behind her when her cousins leaped on her. Nell seized one of her arms and Hattie the other, the two girls dragging her toward the house.

“Where have you been?” Nell exclaimed. “Look at you!”

Olivia gazed down at herself in bewilderment. She was wearing a crumpled dress and had made no attempt to fix her bedraggled hair, but she was decently covered. The gardener’s apprentice hadn’t seemed to find fault with her appearance.

“What does it matter what I look like?” she asked. “That hardly seems like the biggest issue right now!”

Nell stared at her with enormous eyes. “It seems big enough!”

Hattie broke into sudden giggles, as if her emotions needed some escape, and she didn’t know how else to release them.

“The crown prince is waiting for you in our drawing room! The crown prince, Olivia! Surely your appearance matters a little.”

“Prince Julius is here?” Olivia gasped. “Right now? But why?” She stared around the garden as if it could provide answers. “Why is he here so early? They only sent me home a few hours ago!”

“Of course he’s here,” Nell said. “ You’re the one he danced with last night!”

“Why do you think I tried to stop you this morning?” Hattie asked reproachfully. “Why did you run away when you must have known he was about to arrive?”

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell us you were the chosen girl!” Nell added without giving Olivia time to respond. “Mother would have been delighted for you to come with us if she’d known. She would have ordered you a new dress too, although the one you wore was stunning. But how did you meet the prince? How did he convince his parents to choose you? Everyone knows the crown prince’s marriage is arranged by his parents.” She gave a long sigh. “It’s so romantic!”

“It certainly isn’t!” Olivia cried. “Don’t talk nonsense about romance to me.”

“But Olivia, what do you mean?” Hattie asked. “They usually choose a girl from a rich and influential noble family, so Prince Julius must be madly in love with you if he managed to convince his parents to choose you.”

“Is that what everyone is thinking?” Olivia cried in alarm. “Of course he isn’t in love with me. He doesn’t even know me. How would I know the crown prince? The whole thing is a terrible misunderstanding. I didn’t know this ball was different, and I thought I was supposed to wear glass slippers.”

Both her cousins gasped in horror. They exchanged a look across Olivia before Nell spoke in a tone of dismay.

“You already had the Legacy’s interest—it pushed Mother into treating you more like a servant than like family—so it must have been at full power last night.”

“Prince Julius danced with you because of a mistake?” Hattie sounded bitterly disappointed. “Then why is he here this morning?”

“Because of all that Legacy power,” Olivia answered dully. “The royal family think we have to go through with the betrothal now.”

“So you do get to be a princess?” Nell asked with returned excitement.

“Not just a princess,” Hattie said in a dreamy, breathless voice. “She also gets to marry Prince Julius.”

Olivia wanted to set them straight about her feelings on the matter, but she wasn’t sure the royal family would appreciate her frankness. They might approve the narrative that she had been chosen at Julius’s request. If so, they wouldn’t thank her for spreading stories about her own dissatisfaction.

She was also, admittedly, relieved to be able to leave Marigold out of the conversation. Both her cousins seemed willing to accept that the Legacy’s power was enough to explain the misunderstanding, and neither had yet asked about the actual chosen girl. Apparently, their determination to see her situation as a romantic fantasy was too overwhelming.

“If you didn’t know this was the prince’s betrothal year, does that mean you don’t know about this morning, either?” Nell asked suddenly. “Is that why you ran off and haven’t even dressed properly?”

“If you mean, did I know the prince would turn up at our house first thing, I certainly didn’t,” Olivia said with spirit.

She still thought it was ridiculous that Prince Julius would be hounding her so soon. Wasn’t she even allowed to catch her breath?

Nell and Hattie gave a second pair of synchronized gasps. It was usually a trait Olivia found endearing, but she was too tightly wound to appreciate it that morning.

“It’s tradition!” Nell cried. “The chosen bride has to leave the ball early and go home—that’s part of the original story—but they condense the timeline for the rest. It’s not as if the prince needs to search every household to find where she lives. So he always comes first thing the next morning to collect his betrothed and take her back to the palace. If you don’t hurry, you’ll be late.”

“Late for what?” Olivia tried to ignore the sinking sensation in her gut.

“For the betrothal announcement.” Hattie dragged Olivia through their front door. “It’s at the palace this morning.”

“Quick,” Nell said, trying to tug her toward the stairs. “We need to get you properly dressed before…”

Her words died as Prince Julius stepped out of the front sitting room, clearly drawn by the sound of their arrival. Olivia swallowed at his appearance. His attire was much closer to the magnificence of the ball the night before than to the well-made but practical clothing he was wearing the first time they met.

He stopped abruptly at sight of her, a strange look on his face, and she was suddenly conscious of her own appearance. No wonder her cousins had been so concerned about how she looked.

The prince cleared his throat. “You’re not ready,” he said, his deep voice catching her off guard.

She flushed. “Since I wasn’t expecting you, no, I’m not.”

His eyebrows rose. “Not expecting me?”

“Please accept my apologies, Your Highness.” Aunt Helen came out of the sitting room behind him. “I must take responsibility for my niece’s ignorance regarding the traditions surrounding your betrothal. I’m sincerely sorry for the mistake.” She cast a swift, assessing eye over Olivia. “If you will grant us just a few minutes more, I will ready Olivia for departure. My daughters will keep you company in the meantime.” She sent Nell and Hattie a silent command, and both girls curtsied deeply.

“Departure?” Olivia tried to protest, but her aunt already had her by the arm and was starting up the stairs. “In minutes? But?—”

Her aunt shushed her, throwing a warning look back down the stairs. She didn’t speak until she’d bustled Olivia into Nell’s bedchamber and shut the door behind them. Olivia braced herself for a scolding, but it didn’t come.

Instead her aunt embraced her, a beaming smile on her face.

“My dear, dear niece,” she said. “I don’t know how you managed it, but I should have put more faith in the machinations of the Legacy. Even so…You’ve done very, very well, Olivia dear.”

Olivia blinked at her. She had expected her aunt to be happy, but not until after a barrage of questions and perhaps some blustering.

“No, don’t try to explain the circumstances,” her aunt said, although Olivia had made no attempt to speak. “There isn’t time.”

She pulled open Nell’s wardrobe and rummaged through the gowns inside. “Thankfully, while you have your mother’s coloring and face, your figure comes from your father’s family. You and Nell could be twins in that regard since she grew those last two inches.”

She emerged from the wardrobe, a triumphant smile on her face. “Thank goodness we negotiated a deal with the seamstress by buying several dresses at once. I was planning for Nell to wear this to the royal wedding, so it’s unworn.”

She held it up to Olivia, who hadn’t seen the soft blue gown before. It was hard to take in what was happening, but she couldn’t deny a pang of appreciation at the elegant fall of the skirt and the intricate embroidery on the bodice. The material was luxurious, but the style was more understated than her aunt’s usual taste.

“Quick!” Aunt Helen said when Olivia didn’t move. “Undress as fast as you can, and I’ll help you into it.”

As she fastened the dress into place, she chattered away. “Of course now that the royal wedding will be a family wedding…” She stopped to chuckle happily. “We’ll be able to secure the services of the most sought-after seamstress in the capital. I’ll have something even more lovely made for Nell before the big event.”

She stepped back and admired Olivia in the dress. “I must say, you look lovely. I’m a fair woman and can admit the dress looks far better on you than it would have on my Nell.” Her eyes lifted to Olivia’s hair. “We’ll have to do something about that, though.”

She whisked Olivia into the chair in front of Nell’s dressing table and began brushing out her hair. The feel of her hands and the tugging of the brush reminded Olivia so forcefully of her own mother that she had to blink back tears.

Her aunt’s movements slowed. “What’s wrong, dear?”

Her tone was so gentle that it only made the tears harder to fight. Olivia met her aunt’s eyes in the mirror, but she didn’t know where to start. She stayed silent.

Her aunt put the brush down with a clack and began twisting Olivia’s hair onto her head in a far more expert manner than Olivia had expected.

“You listen to me, Olivia,” she said, quietly but fiercely. “I’m not going to pretend it’s not a great benefit to our family for you to be crown princess and one day queen. It’s beyond anything your uncle or I ever imagined. But we’re your family. And that means we’re on your side. That prince has his parents and the whole court behind him, but don’t you go feeling like you’re on your own. You’ve got us, and if they mistreat you, we won’t stand by, royalty or not. There’s more than one way to exercise strength, you know.”

The tears spilled over Olivia’s cheeks, and she sniffed and quickly wiped them away.

“Thank you, Aunt,” she managed.

Her aunt put the final pin in her hair and stood back. “There! You look beautiful, my dear, and I’m sure anyone would expect a few emotions from you on a day like today.”

Olivia smiled weakly and wiped the last of the moisture from her face. If she was about to face the court, she didn’t want to look like she’d just been crying.

She didn’t want to face Prince Julius looking like that either. Her aunt had just reminded her that if she wanted to hold her own among the royals, she needed to be strong. And knowing she wasn’t as alone as she had felt out on the hill helped.

“Thank you, Aunt Helen,” she said when she stood up and surveyed herself in the mirror. “I didn’t know you had such skill with hair.”

Her aunt grinned. “We weren’t always wealthy the way we are now. I did my own hair for years before I could afford a personal maid. But you’d better hurry downstairs as fast as you can. The prince has been waiting long enough.”