They’d decided to tell people that Amber was a friend of Elisabetta, which meant that she would attract minimal attention, although her presence at Laurent and Emilia’s wedding alongside Tris had started some low-level speculation. Luckily, any rumours were still confined to Elsornia and hadn’t yet reached the royal-gossip-hungry European magazines. Amber hoped it would stay that way; if she and Tris decided against marriage she didn’t want anyone to know who she was or guess at the parentage of her child. Tris’s involvement meant secrecy wouldn’t be easy but, luckily, she was an old hand at staying under the radar.
Another silence fell and Amber resumed her study of the landscape, searching for a new topic of conversation, one that actually would help her understand Tris better. ‘The nursery school was so cute; I loved the song they did. Do you spend a lot of time on visits like this?’ Amber hadn’t imagined him being quite so visible day to day. Her grandmother’s preparation for Amber’s future royal life, hopefully on the miraculously restored Belravian throne, had concentrated more on entertaining diplomats and neighbouring royals and less on visiting schools.
‘Not a lot, no.’ Tris looked regretful. ‘Which is a shame because I actually quite enjoy them now. When I was younger I found it a chore to have to try and connect with every single person I met, to shake all those hands and keep smiling so people didn’t think I was standoffish. To find things to say that didn’t seem stuffy or dull.’
Amber blinked in astonishment. This was probably the most insightful thing Tris had said to her since she had arrived in Elsornia. ‘My grandmother insisted I learn how to make small talk; she said it was one of the most invaluable tools in a royal’s arsenal. Although, as she spent most of her time interrogating people rather than talking to them, I’m not sure how she knew.’
‘My father was more of an interrogator too, which is probably why I found small talk so excruciating. But now my time is so taken up with diplomatic business, politics and negotiation that a day out actually talking to people is a relief. Sometimes visits and openings seem like an indulgence, especially with three sisters who are so popular with the people and who all find it a lot easier than I do, but it’s really important that I remember why I do what I do. When I’m in a school, a hospital or retirement home or at a village fair, I can see exactly why it’s so important that we have the right deals in place, why I have to spend hours in meetings that seem to have no point. I don’t do it for me but for the children who need a solid economy to pay for their schools.’
‘I’d never thought about it like that,’ Amber confessed. ‘My grandmother never really made me see the point of being a princess; it felt like unnecessary rules and restrictions, etiquette for etiquette’s sake.’
‘There’s an element of that, and for a long time I would have put public appearances and visits in that category. Like I said, it was a chore. Something I had to do because, rightly or wrongly, it makes people feel special when someone from my family visits their place of work or their home town or village. Also, it brings attention. If any of my sisters are photographed at a museum, gallery or a nature reserve then the footfall for that place instantly doubles. We know that our attention has an economic benefit. We can’t ignore that, just because we might want to stay home and relax.’
‘What? You never get to chill out? In that case I’m definitely not staying.’
‘Never officially.’ For the first time Tris’s smile looked both easy and genuine and Amber’s heart gave a small traitorous leap. She mentally scolded it and kept her attention on the conversation at hand.
‘Okay. It’s time to confess—what do you do when you relax? What’s your comfort watch of choice? It’s been a long day, it’s raining outside, you’ve put on...’ Amber had been about to say PJs but thought better of it; this conversation might be flowing easier than usual and she and Tris might have managed to achieve a truce over the last week, but she wasn’t ready to talk nightwear with him yet, especially when even the word PJs made her remember in such vivid detail the night when he hadn’t bothered with any nightwear at all ‘...casual clothing,’ she managed lamely. ‘You’re curled up on the sofa, phone set to silent, the remote in your hand. What do you watch? And what do you eat while watching it?’
‘I...’ Tris looked genuinely discomfited. ‘My phone is switched off?’
‘On silent,’ she corrected him. ‘My imagination isn’t strong enough to imagine you without a phone or two.’ Tris seemed to carry at least three phones at all times, all switched on, all checked regularly and all needing constant attention.
‘Usually one of my sisters would choose,’ he prevaricated, and Amber shook her head mock sternly.
‘That’s cheating and you know it. Go on, are you a sci-fi movie franchise man? Must-see dramas? Or do you prefer an epic fantasy series, complete with battles for the throne and dragons? Or is it a little bit too close to home?’
‘Honestly? No drama or fantasy series has anything on my ancestors,’ he said. ‘Remind me to take you to the portrait gallery soon; there’s more betrayal, treason, adultery and murder in one room than all of Shakespeare’s plays.’
‘From what I can tell, my ancestors were pretty bloodthirsty too,’ she confessed. ‘I don’t think my many times great-grandfather got to be King because of his diplomatic skills; I think he hacked his way to the throne. Not that I know much; my grandmother wasn’t interested in any of the really fascinating history. She was more concerned with the wrongs done to us during the revolution. But, to be honest, I don’t think I blame the populace for getting rid of us. Sounds to me like we were a fairly shady lot, looting half the country’s wealth as we left, for instance.’
‘Your dowry?’
‘My dowry.’ She sighed. ‘You know, when I left New York I felt completely free for the first time in so many years. I didn’t feel guilty about not letting my grandmother know where I was because I never felt like she ever cared for me, just what I represented. I was always flawed, a disappointment. I still don’t feel guilty. But I’ve never felt comfortable about that money. It doesn’t really belong to us, does it? I’d like to give it back, only my grandmother still has it and will have until I marry, I guess.’ She managed to refrain from adding If I marry, but the words hung there.
‘You’re of age now; it belongs to you and you can do anything you like with it, including giving it back. The only problem is, Belravia doesn’t exist any more. It’s been carved up and absorbed into at least three countries.’
It belonged to her? It had never occurred to Amber that once she’d turned twenty-one she would legally have charge of the famed Belravian fortune. ‘So I just keep it? I couldn’t—it doesn’t seem right.’
‘I’m not saying keep it, but how you’d go about restoring it when Belravia no longer exists I’m not sure. If you’d like, I can do some investigating. There might be some charities or hospitals in the old Belravian towns and cities where the money could be distributed. Or you could set up a charitable foundation; a lot of your people dispersed during the revolution and people continue to be dispersed from their countries today and need a lot of financial aid; that might be a fitting use for it.’ He paused then turned to look at her, sincerity in his face and voice. ‘Amber, it’s important that you know that your dowry was never part of my motivation back then. Although I am sure my uncle thought differently.’
Amber stared at Tris in some confusion, her thoughts in tumult. She’d been so used to thinking of her dowry and the betrothal as one, it was odd to have to disentangle them—and to absolve Tris of being only interested in her money. Plus the insight he showed in thinking of ways she could use her fortune was illuminating, his insightful solutions for a problem that occasionally kept her awake at night. Whether she married him or not, she knew it was finally time to face her grandmother, reclaim the money and do something good with it.
‘Thank you. I’d really appreciate your help and advice. I
t’s too important a job to get wrong and I don’t really know where to start.’
‘You’re not even slightly tempted to keep it, to keep any of it?’
Amber shook her head. She might be confused about many things at the moment, but she’d always known that the fabled fortune wasn’t hers morally, even if the law said differently. ‘No, I know my dad always intended to return it somehow, but his father was still alive then—he didn’t die until a few months after my parents’ accident—and so he hadn’t figured out what to do with it yet.’ She stopped, remembering the austere, autocratic old man who’d barely spoken to her in those long, lonely first few months in New York. Maybe he’d been grieving his son; she’d never know. She did know that neither he nor his wife had treated her own grief with any consideration or empathy.
She pushed the memories away and tried to lighten the mood. ‘However, I am tempted to see what it’s like when you relax. You still haven’t answered my question. Is it shameful? You don’t have to worry. I’m not going to judge you.’
‘Okay then.’ Tris’s expression was as unreadable as ever. ‘Why don’t you come over tonight to my rooms for dinner and a movie?’
Go over to his rooms? Amber hadn’t been invited into Tris’s quarters since she’d been at the castle, nor had she attempted to go there. The invitation was a definite step in the right direction. Nerves fluttered in her stomach. Every small step brought her closer to a decision, closer to deciding the course her life would take.
‘Okay, then.’ Amber tried her best to look as inscrutable as Tris. ‘You choose the movie and I’ll bring popcorn.’
She sat back and stared out of the windows again. This was her chance to find out something real about Tris. To discover who he was when he wasn’t the perfect prince, the consummate host or the seductive dance partner. It was a lot to ask of dinner and a movie, but right now she would take whatever insight into Tris she could get. Time was ticking away and she was as far from a decision as she had been the day she arrived. Something had to change and maybe, just maybe, tonight was the night.
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘THIS SHIRT? OR this one?’ Tris held up first a blue and then a grey shirt and looked hopefully at his sister.
‘I thought this was supposed to be a relaxing evening.’ Elisabetta raised a knowing eyebrow. ‘Box sets and chill? We all know what that means. About time, big brother, about time.’
‘I barely know her,’ Tris protested, trying not to think about how in some ways he knew Amber very well indeed. He knew how silky her skin was beneath his fingertips, he knew the taste of her, the way she gasped, the way her eyes fluttered half shut and she lost herself in sensation. He knew all that and yet in many ways he didn’t know her at all.
‘Those shirts make you look a little...’ Elisabetta put her head to one side and studied him ‘... stuffy.’
‘Stuffy?’ Tris regarded the shirts in consternation. They were handmade linen shirts. ‘What on earth is wrong with them?’
‘You’re supposed to be sitting on the sofa, sharing pizza and watching a film. Don’t you think you should be in something a little more casual?’
‘More casual?’ These were casual. They were open-necked and short-sleeved; he’d never wear them in public. ‘Like silk pyjamas and some kind of smoking jacket?’
‘I was thinking about jeans and a T-shirt,’ Elisabetta said. ‘But if you want to scare the girl off then go with silk pyjamas.’ She studied him, eyes narrowed. ‘This means a lot to you, doesn’t it? Do you like her?’
Tris refused to meet her gaze. ‘She’s very pleasant.’
‘It’s okay; you’re allowed to like her, you know. Don’t take our parents’ marriage as a template; most people want to be with the person they marry.’ She wandered over to the window and said with studied nonchalance, ‘I was talking to Mama earlier; she sends her love. I didn’t mention Amber, but I know how relieved she would be to know she was here and that you might be marrying soon. Why don’t you take Amber to visit her? Mama would like that.’
‘If she wants to know anything about me then she is always welcome here,’ he said gruffly. His mother hadn’t set foot in Elsornia since the day after his father’s funeral and Tris had neither time nor inclination to assuage her conscience by visiting her. He knew the distance between them upset his sisters, but it wasn’t of his making, His mother’s rooms were always ready if she should change her mind.
Elisabetta didn’t answer but he could feel her disappointment as she sighed and looked out of the window.
‘What film shall I choose?’ The question was a way of changing the subject and it worked as she turned immediately, rolling her eyes in exasperation.
‘How can you be so bad at this?’
‘Because I’ve been engaged for eight years with no actual fiancée to spend time with?’
‘And because, between Father and our uncle, you’ve been brought up to be a cross between a monk and a robot? But I know you dated before the betrothal and I know you’ve had a few friendships in the last four years. It’s not as if you’ve never spent time alone with a woman before.’
Tris compressed his mouth grimly. There were many things he and his sisters never discussed—their parents’ separation and their mother’s decision to leave Tris with his father; the countdown to Tris’s thirty-fifth birthday; their father’s autocratic ways—and they certainly never discussed the few relationships Tris had had after they’d learned that Amber wasn’t studying but had disappeared without a trace.
His partners had been carefully chosen for their discretion: an old friend hopelessly in love with another man, a widow who had no intention of remarrying, a friend of Elisabetta’s who was training to be a doctor and had no time for a serious relationship. Trustworthy women who didn’t want a long-term love affair, didn’t mind secrecy and who would never go to the press. Each affair had lasted for just a few months, ending by mutual agreement when the secrecy became too oppressive. Tris wasn’t proud of these relationships, but neither was he ashamed. They’d been necessary, brief interludes of humanity in his duty filled life. If at some level he’d felt that something was missing, he’d pushed that feeling away. He knew that in his world it was all too rare to find true understanding in friendship or relationships. Far better to keep expectations simple than hope for too much and be disappointed.
‘I’m sorry,’ Elisabetta said, walking over to give him a hug. ‘I know being yourself isn’t easy for you. But that’s all you need to do. I promise, just let Amber get to know you, Tris, let her see the man we see.’
Tris hugged her back, but it was already too late. He had shown Amber his true self and it had made him vulnerable. He had no intention of being vulnerable in front of her again. He needed her and she knew it. He wanted marriage and to be a father to their child all the time, not just on weekends and the occasional holiday. But that was it; he didn’t need her to understand him or to see inside his soul.
It was far safer if she didn’t.
* * *
An hour and two changes of clothes later, Tris was beginning to wish he’d never heard the word relax. He’d ordered two pizzas and a salad from the palace kitchen and they sat in a small kitchenette he barely used, ready to be heated up. Elderflower pressé cooled in the fridge alongside non-alcoholic beer and sparkling water.
‘Get hold of yourself, Tris,’ he told himself aloud, pacing over to the open French windows that led out onto his terrace. ‘It’s just dinner and a film—how hard can it be?’
He turned at the sound of a gentle rap at his door. Opening it, he saw Amber standing there, wearing light blue trousers in some kind of silky material teamed with a creamy-coloured T-shirt and a large white cardigan which she held wrapped about her as if it was armour.
‘Hi,’ she said.
‘Come in.’
She stepped inside, her posture wary, and looked around. ‘T
his is lovely,’ she said but her voice sounded carefully neutral. Tris looked at his rooms and tried to see the familiar furniture and decor through her eyes.
His suite of rooms were on the first floor, looking out over the front of the castle, and the large sitting room doubled as an informal receiving room. White walls topped with intricate gilt coving and lined with valuable landscapes of the Elsornian countryside were matched by a polished wooden floor and a selection of antique furniture. Everything in the room was made in Elsornia, the only personal touch a photo of his three sisters on one of the bookshelves. His study was furnished in a similar fashion; his bedroom likewise. His sisters were always trying to persuade him to redecorate, but Tris didn’t see the point. He was the Crown Prince, and no amount of wallpaper, photos or cushions would change that.
‘Make yourself comfortable,’ he said and, with a slightly doubtful look, Amber perched on the nearest brocade sofa.
‘This is very...erm...firm.’ She wriggled as if trying to get comfortable. True, the sofa wasn’t very comfortable. None of the furniture was, but Tris had got used to it. It wasn’t as if he spent much time relaxing anyway. In fact, he spent very little time in his rooms, apart from his study, at all.
‘Would you like a drink?’
‘Thank you, that would be lovely.’
Tris busied himself with getting them both drinks and checked that Amber was happy with the pizzas he had selected before giving her a quick guided tour of his rooms. She seemed interested and asked several questions, but her gaze was a little puzzled and she glanced at Tris several times as if considering saying something. It wasn’t until he showed her out to the terrace that ran the full length of his rooms that her smile seemed to become more genuine. She walked from one end to the other, pausing to admire the plants and potted trees that turned the austere stone space into a green paradise, stopping by the telescope set up at the far corner. Reaching out one hand, she touched the telescope lightly and Tris wondered if she, like him, was thinking about the evening he’d shown her the stars. ‘So, this is where you spend most of your time when you’re alone?’
Bound by the Prince's Baby Page 7