Page 6 of The Most Unsuitable Prince (Another Arranged Marriage #8)

Rupert's guts had been churning from the moment he'd arrived at the castle the night before his wedding. Now, on the afternoon of the said event, he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something was going to go horribly wrong. He just wasn't sure what it was.

Everywhere around him, everyone seemed perfectly happy.

The castle was bustling with more activity than Rupert had seen in years.

People were coming and going through all the public areas of the castle.

Rupert had dodged flower arrangements on large trolleys, as well as piles of chairs and tables and so much more, just to reach his room after he’d arrived.

There wasn’t anywhere Rupert could look that didn’t remind him of one of the country’s biggest events – an event where Rupert would be acting a leading role.

This is so wrong , he thought as he tried to soothe his agitation in the bath. So wrong on so many levels . Apparently, from what he'd heard, and that wasn't much, but from what had been reported from Tristan, Prince Winter had made himself quite at home in the castle, having arrived days before.

Rupert had been so sure he was going to get a lecture from his father about not being there to greet his fiancé when he arrived. That hadn’t happened. Apparently, his father was too busy with wedding arrangements to speak with him privately, which was a relief.

In the deepest part of himself, where Rupert had to face his truth, he recognized that not wanting to spend time with his father was cowardly.

He wasn’t blind to the fact that his father had been ailing for years, and the brief glimpse he'd caught of him the night before had reinforced that impression.

The man looked like he had at least one leg in the grave, and the other foot was slipping.

Rupert didn't even want to think about what would happen when his father wasn't around. He was almost certain that the life he had carefully crafted for himself, a life where he controlled everything he did and everyone he associated with, was fast coming to an end.

Even in the last ten days, the changes to his life had been evident.

News of the wedding had spread to his friends while he was attending his second hunt after his return to Simigile.

Of course, his father invited his friends – it was the biggest event the castle had seen in the past ten years.

Rupert closed his eyes, shaking his head as he remembered how inept he’d appeared, not knowing a single thing about his intended spouse.

“It was the king’s idea,” was all he could say.

“Excuse me, Your Highness.” Rupert’s eyes flew open as he heard Tristan’s voice coming through the thick bathroom door. “Do you require assistance? You’re meant to be getting dressed for the ceremony.”

That was the last thing Rupert needed to hear in that moment. “I’ll be there shortly,” he yelled, knowing that if Tristan didn’t get a reply, he’d probably get someone to bang the door down. Rupert hadn’t been very successful in hiding his dour mood as the date of the wedding got closer.

It would help if I thought for a second that I was doing the right thing.

Levering himself out of the bath, Rupert grabbed one of the large blanket towels kept for his use.

Just being in the castle had him thinking of all the ways Rupert had mishandled his situation, leading to his current predicament.

I should’ve taken the time to talk to Winter before the ceremony.

I should’ve taken more time to spend with my father before he…

Rupert couldn’t even finish the sentence in his thoughts, let alone acknowledge the reality out loud.

No!

Rupert studied his bleak reflection in the large, polished metal plate that hung above his basin. I don't think those thoughts. I don't think what if. I just deal with what I have .

It was a mantra that Rupert had lived with since his mother died, and that was a lifetime ago.

Rupert had only the faintest memories of the woman who’d been there in his early years.

He remembered her smile as she caught him when he took his first steps.

He remembered being curled up against her skirts as she read to him in the evening, teaching him his first words.

He remembered the warmth of her hug, the soft tone of her voice. ..

NO! NO! NO!

“I can't think about that. I won't think of that today,” he muttered, running a wide-toothed comb through his damp hair and drying his face. In truth it was just another day. It wasn’t as though he even had much to do.

All he had to do was attend a wedding, say his vows, and then if he could, find five minutes to spend in private with Winter so he could…

“Damn it,” he grumbled under his breath as he wrapped the towel around his waist and made his way out of the bathroom.

Tristan was dressed in his best robe, sitting in one of the chairs by the wide window of his bedroom. Although he jumped up and sketched a hasty bow as Rupert came into the room.

“Did you find out whether or not it’s possible to speak to Prince Winter this afternoon before the wedding?” Rupert asked as he made his way over to his large closet.

“I’m afraid not.” Tristan shook his head.

“I sent a message to his suite, just as you ordered when we arrived last night, and received an immediate reply from his adviser that he was unavailable. I tried again this morning, mentioning the urgency of the request, only to be told that the crown prince consort was assisting your father with last minute wedding preparations, and then had to ready himself for what the adviser described as your joyous union.”

Joyous union? Was that man drunk already, or is Winter that deluded?

Then another part of what Tristan had said registered. Rupert glared at his friend. “What do you mean, Winter's assisting my father? You mean to tell me my father actually likes him?”

“From what staff in the castle have been saying, yes. Your fiancé introduced himself to the king on his arrival. That meeting alone was over two hours long, by all accounts, although no one is mentioning what they were talking about. The staff has always been intensely loyal to your father, and you know they won’t say much about private meetings.

But aside from that, it appears nobody has a bad word to say about your intended, either. ”

“I suppose that's a good thing.” Rupert rummaged around his closet for some undergarments, dropping his towel on the floor. “It would have been tediously annoying if I’d had to listen to complaints about Winter all day. As if this day wasn’t unbearable enough.

Have you managed to find a solution to this wretched infidelity business? ”

He looked over his shoulder at his companion, noticing Tristan swallowed hard, and all of a sudden he wouldn’t meet Rupert’s eyes.

“There is nothing that can be done, from all accounts. There was a lengthy message waiting for us from the hall of records. Written in World Council legalese, what the message basically said was that no marriage contract could be amended once it had been filed.

“The message also included a warning that any effort to circumvent or fail to deliver on any clause in the contract, or any actions that might go against the clauses in the contract, would result in severe and immediate retribution from the World Council. Those punishments could involve the stripping of a person’s title, removal from their estates, public shaming… ”

“I get the idea.” Rupert pulled on his pants, barely able to get his buttons fastened, his fingers were shaking so badly.

“You’re going to have to talk to your spouse. The staff’s opinion is that he is a good and kind man. I’m sure if you explained how you never intended to…you know, be intimate with him. He’s a man in his own right. Perhaps he’d be agreeable to you both ignoring that clause in the contract.”

“I don't see how that's going to happen. He was the one who invoked the clause in the first place.” Rupert gave up on his pants and reached for a belt.

“I don't want to talk to him. I don't want to get to know him. The only reason I was getting married at all is because my father insisted on it. I have no intention of being a husband in any way to a peacock of a man with deplorable dress sense. A civil tongue is the most he can expect from me.”

“You might find that you don’t have any choice – in talking to your husband I mean. I don't like to bring it up, but the word about your father's health is not good. He has lived many years and...”

“We’re not discussing that today,” Rupert said firmly.

“Today is meant to be a celebration – my wedding day. As far as I'm concerned, I have a ceremony to get through. I will pay my respects to my father. I will sit next to Winter during the reception, and will even suffer through the customary first dance. But I will not talk to him beyond what is considered polite behavior. In the meantime, make sure you’re packed. As soon as this day is done and we retire for the evening, you and I will be making our way to your home estate for the next hunt.”

“At night?” Tristan didn’t look pleased, but Rupert was beyond caring.

He could feel his carefully crafted life already fraying around the edges.

“You know my parents are attending the wedding and spending the night here at the king’s invitation.

They won’t be at the estate to receive you, if you go there tonight. ”

Damn it. Rupert resisted punching at the door of his closet.

“First light, then,” he said. “I want to be out of here by dawn.

I don't need to be here. I don't want to be with my husband.

I don't have any urge to have anything to do with him at all.

If he thinks that I'm going to hang around and try and get to know him, then he's going to be sorely disappointed.”

Tristan gave him a sideways glance. “From the sounds of things, your intended is making himself very comfortable in this castle.”

“He can have the damn thing,” Rupert said. “I fully intend to carry on living my life the way I’ve always done…”

“With one minor change,” Tristan reminded him.

Rupert was ready to explode at the interruption. “Getting married today is just one minor hiccup in my otherwise ordered life. I have no intention of changing my ways, no matter what my father, my new husband, or anybody else says, including the World Council. Is that clear?”

Tristan nodded. “Of course, sire. Shall I arrange for a footman to assist you in dressing.”

“Yes. Thank you.” Rupert wasn’t going to try and manage his robe or his boots on his own.

The robe itself was extensively jeweled – something Rupert hadn’t worn since he’d been officially named as heir of Simigile.

But Rupert was determined. If he was going to be a lead actor in the shit show of his wedding, then he was going to make sure everyone knew who he was and how important his position was. The damn thing had better still fit me.

Sighing, he went and sat down in the chair Tristan had vacated.

His head was pounding, his guts were churning.

Rupert wasn't sure he'd be able to even eat at the reception.

The problem with that was that somebody would notice if he didn't, and then there'd just be more gossip about him that he didn't need.

I've just got to get today over with , he thought as Tristan left. I just have to get through today and then tomorrow my life can go back to normal. Almost normal. As normal as it can be when someone has a noose around my appendages. That would have to be a problem for another day, as well. It’s not like Rupert could feel arousal for anyone when his guts were staging a minor revolt.