by A. E. Watson
“He’s asking permission now. You see that, don't you?”
“I know.” I sigh, trying not to glance back and watch it happen.
“At least he’s a kind man. And he’s handsome enough, isn’t he? I’m no judge of a man’s looks, but I’d say he’s handsome.”
“He’s dashing.” I laugh and nudge my brother. “Silly.”
“Then why not him? Is it just that Mother and Father like him? You don't want anyone to choose for you? You still can’t stand a single thing being decided for you?”
“I suppose. It’s that and the fact that there’s no surprise. He’s asking Mother and Father and they’re saying yes, and I’ll be married before Marguerite even is, to a perfect stranger.”
“Stubborn. That's what you are. Every respectable man for three counties has asked for your hand. And you’ve turned them all away. This is the first one I’ve seen you have the look for. You should be grateful it’s him.” He twirls me when we enter the ballroom. “Well, he’s not wrong about this. It’s a stately room if I’ve ever seen one.”
“Do you love her—Lila?”
“I do.” He nods once. “I truly do. I cannot imagine a single girl but her. We’re only seventeen so I cannot ask for her hand. But I would ask that she wait. Give me a few years to finish my schooling. Without a promise from me she’ll be married in no time.”
“What did Father say?”
He shrugs, an act he doesn't do often. “That she is unsuitable. Her mother was a governess, unsuitable for marriage to a gentleman. His good name has been tarnished forever, which means all their children are also ruined.”
“Ridiculous. She’s a gentleman’s daughter, regardless.”
He spins me again. “I agree. But Father does not. Or rather, Mother does not. I suspect Father does not care.”
I twirl away from him, whirling on my own like a dancer all the way across the room.
Everything spins when I stop. When my eyes are able to focus again, Count Basarab is standing in the doorway and not my brother.
“Where did Frederick go?”
“Our last guest, a Lila Parsons has just arrived and I have asked him to see her in.”
My cheeks redden. “Lila?”
“Yes. Your parents have had a change of heart.” He winks slyly as he strolls to me, offering me his hand.
“There’s no music.” The sentence leaves my lips with little emotion. He’s close to me again, making my body tense.
“We can make our own.” He pulls me into his arms, humming softly as he dances me around the room.
“Count—”
“Constantine, please. Just Constantine.”
“Constantine.” His name feels strange on my tongue, in a pleasant sort of way. “Constantine, did you force my parents to accept her?”
“Certainly not.”
My gaze narrows as I look up at him. “I demand to know how you made them change their minds!”
“I simply asked if they expected you and I would one day marry. They professed this indeed was their wish. I concurred. I stated that my stipulations to the nuptials were that we would not be forced into them—it would be a natural process. And that your brother must be allowed to choose his bride and they must agree to whomever he chooses.”
“Did my mother argue?” A laugh slips from my parted lips as I ask it.
“She did not. She asked only one question.”
“Which was?”
It’s his turn for his gaze to narrow. “That is none of your business.”
I am taken aback by his answer, but I change the subject, “You invited Lila when you invited us? You already knew about my brother and her?”
“I did.”
The first real smile I’ve had since meeting him crosses my lips. “Thank you.”
“It was nothing. And contrary to how I acted last night, it is undoubtedly my pleasure to get to know you on my own terms, the same way you wish to.” He dances me to the garden door. “Shall we take a walk before dinner?”
“Sure.” He spins me once more so I am dizzy and then clasps my hand to his arm, leading me through the doorway.
“Tell me something.” I use his words against him.
“And what would you most like to hear?”
“What did you think the moment you saw me?”
I expect certain answers. I expect him to think on it. He doesn't do anything I expect.
“That I had been walking around my entire life with half of my heart, and I didn't even know it. Not until the other half walked into the room.”
That is the moment I secretly fall in love with Constantine Basarab.
Not because someone tells me to.
Not because he’s rich and the right choice.
No. I fall in love with him because he says exactly the thing I thought when I saw him; I just didn't know it.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
As she braids my hair for bed, I give my mother a look. “What did you ask Constantine when he told you he wanted us to fall in love on our own?”
“I asked if he truly was a prince in Romania,” my mother answers me in the mirror.
“What did he say?”
Her lips part but a confused look takes over her face. “You know, I don't recall if he answered me or not. It’s the strangest thing. We were chatting one moment, and I don't know what it was about. Then he said he wanted to fall in love with you with no pressure. We agreed and I asked that question and then I don’t recall the rest. Strange. I think I had too much wine.” She finishes the braid and lays her hands on my shoulders. “I do hope you find a way to love him. He’s the most ideal husband there ever was.” She smiles in the mirror as she kisses my cheek. “Goodnight, my love.”
When I go to sleep that night I dream of him. He’s making me smile and laugh and winning me over.
He’s the choice my heart makes, even when it doesn't mean to.
Over the course of the fortnight before we get to Scotland for Marguerite’s wedding, I add many things to my gratitude list:
Long walks across wide fields.
Dogs who bring back the stick.
The backs of hands brushing against each other.
Lips kissing the backs of hands.
Lips jealous of hands.
Warm embraces on cold days.
A man who never says no.
The smile on Freddy’s face.
The day we leave for the wedding, Constantine decides to come with us after my father insists for the hundredth time.
We take his coach, as it’s much larger and roomier for my father’s aching back.
“Are you excited?” Constantine whispers over my sleeping family’s snoring.
“Not really. I’m trying to be happy for her, but I don't relish the thought of her moving so far away.”
“It’s not that far away. It’s still on the same continent. It's not as if it’s months of journeying.” He rolls his eyes.
“Can we visit?” I ask it before I think.
His lips curl into a grin. “Have you finally come to the conclusion that we are just meant to be?”
I want so badly to say no. I desperately wish I didn't have to concede aloud but I do. “Yes.”
“Good.” He sighs, sounding relieved.
“Are you tired of waiting for me?” I ask with a grin.
“No. I would wait for a whole lifetime for you. I feel as though I already have.” He leans forward, lifting my hand to his lips, and I suspect we both wish it were our lips touching.
But that would be inappropriate. So we settle back into our seats and enjoy the rest of the ride to the melody of my father snoring over my mother.
We stop for the night at an inn along the way.
As I’m tucking myself into bed for the night there’s a light rap at my door. Assuming it’s my mother again, I open it, startled by Constantine staring at me through the crack. I quickly cover myself with my robe. “What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to sh
ow you something.” He pushes open the door and comes into the room. He crosses the floor and opens the large window, letting in the coldest breeze I think I’ve ever felt.
“You want to show me my death?” I grip my robe around me as my teeth set to chattering.
“No.” He laughs and takes my hand, pulling me through the window to the small roof with a nearly flat pitch. My feet slip and the cold wind tears at my clothing, but when I sit on the shake roof next to him, I don't care. The sky is an explosion of color and light.
“Is that the aurora borealis?”
“Yes.” He takes my hand in his and pulls me to him so he can wrap his arm around me. “Are you still cold?”
I shake my head, lying but enjoying the view enough to not care.
The sky is filled with stars and then amongst all their beauty there are streaks of dancing green lights.
“I think this is the most alive I’ve ever felt.” I turn and look at him, ready to accept that the thing my parents want for me is also the thing I want. Where they’ve been ready to make a deal with every male who’s shown interest, this is the one I’m choosing. For me. “Thank you.”
“This is nothing, Kate. There are so many other wondrous things in this world I want to show you.” He leans forward, lifting my chin and tilting my head back. “Starting with this.” He lowers his face, lightly brushing his lips against mine. The kiss is soft and sweet, but I can tell by the grip in his hands he wants it to go further. Being a gentleman means he doesn't try.
He pulls a ring from his pocket. It’s a blood-red ruby that’s twice the size of any ring I’ve ever seen close up. Even my mother doesn't have one this big.
His eyes get wide, like maybe he’s scared of what I will say. “When I met you I knew. I’ve never known anything like it. You are my match in every way. Marry me, Katherine Casey, and I swear I will spend as many lifetimes as I can being grateful you said yes.”
It’s exactly what I want him to say, yet again. But I cannot speak. The lump in my throat is the size of the ruby and tears are filling my eyes.
I look up at him, blinking away the tears so I can see, and nod.
“Yes?”
“Yes.” I sniffle.
His hands tremble as he slides the ring on my finger, kissing it once it’s in place. “Thank you.”
I shake my head, glancing up at him. I can’t help but notice a star in the sky twinkles and shines so brightly, I swear it’s brighter than it was a second ago. “Thank you for seeing what I refused to see.”
“I saw it the moment I met you.” He leans in, pulling me into his chest and kissing the top of my head.
I don't feel the cold or the wind, or the fact I’m nearly naked and outside.
I feel him, and us, clicking into place.
He is where I am meant to be. He is my match as much as I am his.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The carriage ride with the secret ring on my finger, turned around so the jewel is against my palm, is the most relaxed and yet excited I have ever been.
There’s a sureness to every step with him. One I have never felt before.
I grip my hand tightly, holding the massive gem.
My mother reaches forward when I’m deep in thought, sliding her hands around mine. When my fingers are pried apart a gasp leaves her lips, drawing my eyes to hers. They’re wide, startled and scared. She tickles my palm as she fingers the ring inside my hand.
Her eyes dart to Constantine as if asking him with her stare.
He grins wide, looking at me and not her at all.
“We weren’t going to say anything. I don't want to steal any of the focus from Marguerite’s day,” I offer weakly.
“Congratulations.” She squeezes so hard my ring cuts into my finger. It takes two breaths for her to explode with the correct amount of excitement one’s mother has when one becomes engaged. She squeals with delight, startling both my father and brother awake. Her arms suffocate me before she moves on to Constantine, choking him with her approval.
“What is it?” My father looks worried until my mother flips my hand over and reveals the secret within it. “Good God! At last! I thought you might never be married!” He gives me a wide and sarcastic smile. “Congratulations to you both.” His stare lazily makes its way to Constantine’s. “Good luck.”
Constantine laughs. “Thank you, sir. I suspect I will need it.” He gives me a slant-eyed glare.
I roll my eyes and turn the ring the right way on my finger, letting the huge Burmese ruby own my hand, the way he owns my heart.
My brother gives me an uncertain smile, checking for the joy in mine first. When he sees it, his lips spread. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
The carriage turns sharply, making us all look out the windows. Only my brother and I can see it though. Coming into view on the right-hand side of the road is something I haven’t seen before. The land of the Isle of Skye is barren but along the edge of the loch is a castle fit for a king. It’s got turrets and towers and a bridge that crosses a small river.
My mother leans over me, moaning, “God in Heaven, what is this place?”
The gray castle made of stone and brick looks like a home from a fairy tale and not at all one someone I would know would live in.
A smile owns my face as I realize my best friend will live here.
Happiness isn’t the correct word, but it’s how I feel. I am overwhelmed with joy for Marguerite. Perhaps it is the ring on my hand that makes it easier seeing her married and taken away. Or perhaps it is knowing she will live in such a fine home and be cared for in a manner I believe fitting of the beautiful person she is.
Either way, I am no longer bitter with the loss of her being so close-by.
“It’s stunning, is it not?” I ask everyone but my eyes search for his.
“Yes.” Constantine nods. “Very fine indeed.” As if reading my mind he cocks an eyebrow and asks, “Do you feel more at ease, seeing it and knowing she will be well taken care of?”
“I do.”
“I’d say that is the finest house I’ve ever seen.” My father gives his nod of approval.
As the coach stops, Marguerite ignores the expected social graces of a baroness-to-be, and comes running for the carriage. Her arms are wide, almost as wide as her smile.
I jump out, letting her embrace me.
“I am so happy you made it,” she whispers into my hair.
“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.” Gripping one another, I realize we have come to the end of a long journey. She trembles as she holds me tightly, like she too sees where we are and what we must leave behind. “I love you.”
She nods. “I love you too. I’m so sorry I didn't tell you.” She pulls back, her eyes glossed over with tears, matching mine.
“Don't be sorry. I understand.” And I do. There’s a ring behind her arm, one she cannot see and hopefully won’t see until she is married.
“Come, let me give you the tour. It’s ridiculously large. I’ll never manage it all.” She rolls her eyes and drags me inside, leaving Constantine to fair for himself with my parents and brother.
When we get to the great hall, the sight stops me. I’ve seen great homes, many of them. But this is something else. “It’s not what I expected.” I lean in, saying it quietly so no one hears us.
“I know. Me either. It’s much finer.” She giggles.
“Not savage at all.” I laugh.
“I dare say they are not nearly as savage as I expected. Very refined and well connected, and they all have better breeding than we do.” Her eyes are wide, not mocking us or them, but genuinely surprised.
It all makes me laugh harder. “Apparently, we know nothing of the Northerners.”
“You won’t make out a word they say though, unless they’ve lived in town. Just nod your head and smile pleasantly. It’s what I’ve been doing. They must think I’m a half wit.”
I chuckle again as she pulls me to a great dini
ng hall. Paintings line the walls with tapestries telling tales of battles. “These are all about the English.” I point.
“I know. Some of them still hate the English.” She sighs and points at the other wall covered in tapestries with delicate artwork of violent imagery. “Those at least are about the Romans and the Norse Vikings.”
“The furniture is very fine.” I try to add something pleasant to it.
“Very fine.” She concurs and drags me to another room. Finally, after nearly an entire tour of the huge castle, she brings me to my room. It’s stately for just one person.
“This room is too magnificent. Is it all just for me?” I take a turn about the large chamber, looking at all the details.
“Yes. My room is even larger, if you can imagine.”
“I can’t. I need to see it, I think.”
Her lips spread into a wide grin. “Come this way.” She walks to the fireplace, twisting the handle of a candle sconce on the hearth. The bricks grumble and groan as the wall opens.
“A secret passageway!” My eyes widen.
“It was so the governess could sneak the children from the room if an invasion occurred.” She pushes on the heavy brick wall, sliding it so she can get through. I have the faintest sensation that we have done this before as I enter the small dark space. There’s a stone stairwell to the left and an opening into her room straight ahead of us. She pushes it open, revealing the largest bedroom I have ever seen. “This was the nursery. Your room was for the governesses and wet nurses to share.”
“It’s the size of a ballroom.” I stumble in, stunned at the sight of such a decadent room.
“Nearly. It’ll be my private quarters when we’re married, where I’ll go to have the children and such.” Her voice cracks a little.
I turn to find her with tears in her eyes again. “What is it?”
“I’m scared.”
“Of what?” Terror fills me as I realize she might not actually be as happy as she had acted.
“Of being married and being an adult and a lady and a baroness. I’m terrified of being a mother. I don't want to grow up—not yet.” Her lip trembles.
I pull her into my embrace, nodding against her cheek. “I feel the same. I don't want the frivolities to end. I don't want this to be the end of my childhood and the start of me being relied upon for things or suffering under expectations.”