She was so preoccupied that her advice, while offered freely, was not offered with much thought, and Eliza took exception. “I beg your pardon! I’ve hardly eaten a thing since I’ve arrived in Alucia. At every meal the queen looks at me as if she disapproves of everything I do! I’m afraid to do anything, much less eat,” Eliza complained. “They’ll all be looking at me. They’ll be waiting for me to do something wrong, or speculating if I’m already carrying the heir. You cannot imagine how much interest there is in my ability to bear an heir.”

“Well, of course!” Caroline said cheerfully. “You’ll have to be a broodmare, darling, but after you’ve given them what they want, you may live in conjugal bliss for the rest of your days surrounded by wealth and privilege and many, many servants.”

“They won’t all be looking at you, Eliza. At least half the room will be looking at your handsome husband,” Hollis had said with a wink.

Caroline was once again jolted back into the present when the archbishop lifted a heavy jeweled chalice above the heads of Eliza and Prince Sebastian. Surely that meant they were nearly done? Prince Sebastian took Eliza’s hand, and they turned away from the archbishop, facing the guests with ridiculously happy grins on their faces. They were married!

Hollis turned, too, and even from where Caroline sat, she could see Hollis’s dark blue eyes shining with tears of joy. The guests rose to their feet as the prince and his bride began their procession away from the altar. Rose petals rained down on the couple and their guests from above. The little flower girls fluttered around behind Eliza like butterflies, flanking her train as they followed the couple down the aisle. Prince Leopold offered his arm to Hollis, and she beamed up at him. Caroline felt left out. Hollis and Eliza were near and dear to her heart, the closest thing to sisters she’d ever had, and she longed to be with them now.

Eliza and Prince Sebastian floated past Caroline and Beck without any acknowledgment of them. That was to be expected—the two of them looked absolutely besotted. They were so enthralled with each other, in fact, that Caroline fretted they’d walk into any one of the marble columns that lined their path.

Oh, but she was envious, filled to the very brim with envy. In England, she rarely gave marriage any thought except on those occasions Beck complained she ought to settle on someone, anyone, and relieve him of his duty. But he didn’t really mind his duty, his protestations notwithstanding. Caroline rather suspected he liked having her underfoot. So she flitted from one party to the next, happy to enjoy the attentions of the many gentlemen who crossed her path, happy with her freedom to do as she pleased.

But looking at Eliza, Caroline realized that she did indeed want one day to be in love with a man who would be as devoted to her as Prince Sebastian was to his bride. She wanted to feel everything Eliza was feeling, to understand just how that sort of love changed a person.

Prince Leopold and Hollis passed by Caroline and Beck. Hollis’s face was streaked with happy tears. Prince Leopold happened to look to the guests as they passed, a polite smile on his face. His gaze locked on Caroline’s—well, not locked, really, as much as it skimmed over her—but nevertheless, she smiled broadly. She began to lift a hand but was suddenly jostled with an elbow to her ribs. She jerked a wide-eyed gaze to her brother.

“Stop gawking,” he whispered. “You’ll snap your neck, craning it like that.”

Caroline haughtily touched a curl at her neck.

Beck turned his attention to the procession. The king and queen were passing them now. Beck leaned toward her and whispered, “He’s a prince, Caro, and you are just an English girl. You’re indulging in fairy tales again. I can see it plainly on your face.”

Just an English girl? She very much would have liked to kick Beck like she used to do when she was just a wee English girl. “Better to dream in fairy tales than not dream at all.”

Beck rolled his eyes. He stood dispassionately as the archbishop and his altar boys followed the king and queen.

Just an English girl, indeed.

CHAPTER TWO


The newly married Duchess of Tannymeade is greatly admired by the citizens of Alucia, and indeed the world. Following the wedding ceremony, the couple was feted in a private ceremony by the duke’s family and specially invited guests, during which time the duchess was presented with wedding gifts, including a ruby necklace from Emperor Ferdinand I of Austria, a gold-plated and porcelain casket from Sultan Abdülmecid and the people of Turkey, and a pair of dancing horses from Prince Florestan I of Monaco. Our own Queen Victoria and Prince Albert have gifted the duke and duchess Crawley Hall, a country residence in Sussex, the keys to which were presented to the couple by the Right Honorable Lord Russell, who traveled to Helenamar in the queen’s stead.

The Duke and Duchess of Tannymeade were not the only ones to receive attention at the ceremony. Some observers noted a very close kin of the duke invested his considerable attentions on a Weslorian heiress rather than the newlyweds.

—Honeycutt’s Gazette of Fashion and


Domesticity for Ladies

THIS WEDDING WAS quite possibly the longest ceremony in the history of all mankind. Even a Greek bacchanal could not have lasted as long as this. The neckcloth around Prince Leopold’s neck felt too tight. The medals he wore as part of his formal attire seemed to be pulling oddly at the fabric, causing him to move his shoulder every so often to right his coat. What time had his guard, Kadro, rolled him into bed this morning? Four? It was all but a hazy memory now. It was not Leo’s fault, really. It had been a dare of some sort, to drink la fée verte, or the green fairy, as the Swedish ambassador had called it.

At the end of the newlyweds’ procession from the cathedral, they stepped into a small vestibule to sign the parish marriage registry. Leo, Mrs. Honeycutt and the archbishop followed them to witness. Leo watched his brother sign Sebastian Chartier with the familiar thick and sure stroke of his pen. He realized he was tapping his finger against his pant leg with impatience as Eliza took the pen and signed next. Her hand was shaking, and she managed to leave a smear of ink under the broad, flourishing strokes that formed Eliza Tricklebank Chartier. As soon as she put down the pen, she and Mrs. Honeycutt clung to each other and laughed as if they were mad, Mrs. Honeycutt’s dark head pressed to Eliza’s fair one.

Sebastian and Leopold exchanged a look. Or rather, Leo looked at Bas, and then at the clock just over his brother’s shoulder. He didn’t want to be impolite, but his head was pounding and his mouth dry. For a fortnight, there had been ceremony after celebration after official event after reception. He’d attended them all, dutifully fulfilling his obligations as prince and best man and whatever else they wanted him to be, all the while drinking to numb his tedium. He chafed to be done with this, to be with friends.

Leo preferred a life far from Alucia, in England, with friends. Not this princely one where he was no use to anyone, a prop at one ceremony after another.

“You are to witness, Mrs. Honeycutt,” Leo said, to hurry things along, and he picked up the gold pen and handed it to her in case she was unclear what witnessing meant.

“Yes, of course,” she said nervously, and let go her sister. Beneath Eliza’s smear, she deftly wrote her name.

Leo affixed his, as well—dashing it off in his haste to carry on—then stood with his hands clasped at his back as the archbishop offered one last blessing. How many blessings did one couple need?

But at last, they exited the cathedral, and Bas and Eliza stepped into an open carriage. On this beautiful sunlit day, the happy couple would be escorted by palace guards down the long avenue en route to the palace so that the throngs of people waiting for a glimpse of their new crown princess would have opportunity to wave. Eliza had become quite popular since arriving in Alucia. The people saw her as one of their own, a commoner who had charmed the crown prince through no particular effort, other than being just as she was. Leo understood their fascination—it was a tale of hope and fantasy. He understood that most people worked quite hard to provide the necessities of life, and that life in a palace was merely a dream. She was one who had broken through the thick walls of royalty and privilege, and they loved her for it.

It held no fascination for him, however. He did not like the gilded cage that surrounded him in Helenamar. He resented the many rules that governed his behavior, like to whom he spoke, where he sat and so forth. In England, people knew he was a prince, of course, but most of the common people did not, and moreover, no one expected him to be anything. Which suited him, as he wasn’t anything. He was nothing but a man with a fat purse and a pair of guards to protect him. In England, he moved about as he pleased, hunted when he liked, caroused with his many friends as the mood struck him, rode his horse, wooed women, sat wherever the hell he liked. All without bother.

Or rather, he had enjoyed his life without bother until his brother had come to London to negotiate a trade agreement, and his private secretary had been murdered, and then suddenly, everyone in England knew a pair of unmarried princes moved among them. His life had changed somewhat since then. More people in England were aware of him now. He sincerely hoped that when he returned to England, the excitement of an Englishwoman marrying an Alucian prince would have died down, and he could resume his dissolute life.

Unfortunately, there were miles to go before he could board that ship and sail away. But today, after the private reception for family and what he supposed would be hundreds of their closest friends, Leo was to meet friends from his youth for a little respite before the final royal ball this evening. More drinking would be a hard go after last night’s debauchery, but if Leo was accomplished at anything, it was revelry.

Leo and Mrs. Honeycutt joined his parents in the gold carriage and followed behind the newly married couple. Mrs. Honeycutt seemed genuinely intimidated by it all—she sat stiffly, her hands clasped so tightly together that he worried she might break a finger. He wished he could assure her that she needn’t have worried—his parents ignored her for the most part and, aside from a few pleasantries exchanged about the wedding, turned their attention to the crowds. Leo knew how his parents viewed Mrs. Honeycutt. She was a foreigner, a commoner. She would return to England soon. There was nothing to be gained by knowing her.

But Leo felt sorry for her and her nerves and smiled at her. He could imagine this day had been as overwhelming for her as it had been for her sister. Frankly, there were times the massive crowds still overwhelmed him. What it must be like to be a man simply standing in the crowd, watching a royal carriage roll by. What it must be like to go to the pub afterward and drink to the prince’s marriage, then home to his wife and his children and his bed.

He’d warned Bas that Eliza might experience difficulties in adjusting to this life. “Take care of your bride,” he’d said yesterday in a rare moment they’d found themselves alone. “This is a new world for her.”

“I will,” Bas had said, and though he’d said it casually, there was fierceness in his eyes that suggested he loved Eliza more than anything else in this world.

Thank goodness for it, because she would need his protection. The Alucian nobility looked down on her. The English nobility who had come for the wedding seemed appalled by her. Eliza herself was at turns both unnerved and then charmingly joyous. Her sister seemed ill at ease more often than not.

The only person on the side of Eliza who appeared completely unaffected by the trappings of royalty was Lord Hawke’s sister. That woman would take no notice of her nerves even if they rose up and wrapped themselves around her throat. Oh, quite the contrary—she seemed emboldened by unfamiliar and formal situations. She sailed through them with a wide, warm smile and rosy cheeks and spectacularly blond hair. She did not go unnoticed—she was exceedingly attractive and taller than average. It was impossible not to see her. She was that rare social butterfly who thought nothing of chatting with anyone and everyone in her path. She delighted in being heard, and all were fair game to her—be one a duke or a butler, a queen or a chambermaid. She particularly seemed to enjoy butting into any conversation to offer an opinion, and she didn’t care who was on hand to hear it.