These weeks had brought about a marked change in him.
And in Harriet.
She often joined them on their morning expeditions, and Alex could see how much Harriet was enjoying the freedom of just being a typical young lady with none of the pressures that came with a royal status.
The downside to this otherwise perfect time was Huntsforth.
There had been no improvement in his uncle’s condition as far as Alex could see, and he had yet to enjoy even the briefest of conversations with the man, given that he was only ever allowed to visit when he was asleep.
The excitement of new arrivals would be too much for him, the doctor had said.
It seemed strange to be staying in the man’s house without him even being aware of their presence.
But they had to follow doctor’s orders.
Prudence and Lydia visited him daily, but they never talked longer than a few minutes and apparently never about anything that could overset him.
“What’s the matter, Alex?”
He looked up to see Lydia ahead of him, a smile on her face.
Her hunter-green riding habit clung to her like a second skin, and her unruly hair had come undone so it blew in the icy winter breeze in abandon.
She had no idea how utterly beautiful she was, which just made her more beautiful still.
“Not a thing, sweetheart,” he called now.
She smiled at the endearment he had slipped into calling her, as she always did.
And there was nothing wrong… apart from the secret that still existed between them.
He still hadn’t told her who he was.
And he’d had ample opportunity.
They had enjoyed countless discussions where they’d gotten to know each other so much that he felt like she had become his other half.
But how could that be, when she had no idea who she was really talking to?
Something always held him back, though.
Every time he mentioned Aldonia, she would inevitably rail against the selfish nephew and how much she hated people of his ilk.
And she had mentioned more than once how much she deplored dishonesty.
And so the web of deceit he’d weaved grew everyday ensnaring him even more.
“Shall we race back, then?” she asked, and he was abruptly reminded of the first night they’d met.
It seemed like a lifetime ago.
He brought his horse forward until he was right beside her.
“Ah, yes, you are fond of races, aren’t you?”
A blush stained her cheek, fascinating him.
“How ungentlemanly of you to remind me of how foolish I was,” she scolded.
“You were adorable,” he countered firmly, and her blush deepened.
Alex reached over and stole a quick kiss.
“Whoever loses must sneak into the kitchen and steal some of those cherry tarts Cook is so protective of,” he challenged, with a raised brow.
Lydia laughed, and the sound was like music to his ears.
How he loved making her laugh.
How he loved spending this time with her, revelling in her company, falling more and more in love with her every day.
The thought sobered him for a moment.
Yes, he loved her. He’d be mad not to.
And he suspected she loved him, too. But she didn’t know him. She didn’t know what she was getting in a prince. In how much she would be expected to sacrifice to be with him.
His stomach sank.
The freedom they were enjoying here… the cosy evenings… the activity-filled days…
They wouldn’t be able to enjoy any of it back in Aldonia.
That spirit that was uniquely hers. Would it be dampened to nothing by the pressures of being royal?
Lydia, unaware of the maudlin turn his thoughts had taken, kicked her horse into motion, laughing with abandon.
Alex quickly followed suit, but he was feeling decidedly less carefree.
The time had come.
He needed to be honest with her. About his feelings. And about who he truly was.
THE BALLROOM LOOKED like a fairy-tale. Lydia sighed with contentment as she took in the display before her. They had all worked to make tonight as beautiful as it could possibly be.
White satin had been draped around the ballroom. Garlands of holly and ivy dressed every available surface, and the light from hundreds of candles lent the room a warm, inviting glow.
Mama had gone above stairs to see if Huntsforth would be able to join them.
Everything was coming together beautifully.
“I don’t think I’ll ever forget the picture you paint, sweetheart, standing alone in the middle of an empty ballroom.”
Lydia turned at the sound of Alex’s voice.
The surge of love she felt upon seeing him almost made her stagger.
She never thought it possible to love someone so much more every single day, yet somehow, she did.
Tonight felt special, as though they were all on the cusp of something lifechanging.
Perhaps it was time to tell him how she felt.
“Alex—”
He stepped forward swiftly, grabbing her hands and holding them in his own, against his rapidly thumping heart.
“I need to tell you something,” he said, and Lydia felt a spark of dread at his serious tone and expression.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, her tone panicky to her own ears.
“Lydia…”
He sounded tormented, and it did nothing to calm her.
“…I want you to know, I need you to know…” He stopped and took a deep breath while Lydia’s palms grew clammy with nerves.
“What?” she asked again.
His eyes raked her, from the curls adorned with diamond pins, to the snow-white silk gown overlaid with lace.
“…you look like an angel,” he said softly, and she could have wept with relief.
Instead she laughed.
“Alex, is that all? You scared me,” she admonished. “But thank you.”
He was studying her intently, still with that strange, serious look upon his face.
“That’s not all,” he said, and just as quickly as it had improved, her mood dropped again.
Before she could speak though, he continued.
“Lydia,” he said, “I love you.”
Her heart soared at the words, but he wasn’t finished.
“I love you more than I ever thought possible. My whole life I’ve never really cared about anything other than myself. I’ve never worked for anything… never wanted anything…”
Her eyes filled with tears.
She had never felt happier in her whole life.
“…until you,” he continued. “You make me want to be better, to do better. For you. Because I love you so much and you deserve the best.”
Lydia smiled widely even as tears fell from her eyes.
She reached up to throw her arms around Alex’s neck, squealing as he lifted her off her feet.
“Alex, I—”
“Alex?”
Lydia whipped around at the sound of a new, tremulous voice to see Huntsforth standing, leaning heavily on the arm of his valet, Mama flanking his other side.
“Huntsforth!” she cried happily, but her voice died at the next words Huntsforth spoke.
“Y-your Highness,” he said as he executed a small, wobbly bow.
Lydia frowned, her heart filling with dread.
Had Huntsforth’s illness addled his brain? How tragic.
She turned to Alex, not quite sure what to do, but the look on his face filled her with even more dread.
He didn’t look confused at all. He looked… he looked caught out.
“Alex?”
His eyes flew to hers, and she saw unmistakeable guilt therein.
What on earth?
“Is it really you?” Huntsforth spoke again and shuffled toward them, every step seeming like a great struggle.
Alex
stepped forward, and Lydia watched with ever-growing horror.
“It is, Uncle,” Alex said softly, and Lydia’s world shifted on its axis.
Uncle?
But that meant…
“My God,” she whispered, as her brain made the connection.
Alex turned imploring eyes to her, but Huntsforth was still speaking, his voice warbling with either illness or emotion.
“You’re here,” the old man said.
“I am.” Alex smiled gently, reaching out to clasp Huntsforth’s extended hand.
Lydia watched the exchange in a haze of confusion.
A noise signalled the arrival of another player in this farcical performance, and Harriet swept into the room bedecked in festive red.
She drew to a halt as she took in the expressions of the people around her.
“Huntsforth,” she cried with a smile similar to Lydia’s of moments ago.
“Princess Harriet, my God, just look at you,” Huntsforth breathed.
“Princess?” Lydia blurted, looking from Huntsforth to Harriet, and then to Alex. “And he called you Your Highness,” she added quietly.
“Could somebody please explain what is going on here?” Mama sounded just as bewildered as Lydia felt by the events unfolding in front of them.
“Why, my nephew has come to visit, of course.” Huntsforth smiled as he sat heavily in a chair that a footman had fetched him.
“Your nephew?” Prudence repeated. “As in your heir?”
“The very one,” Huntsforth confirmed happily, while Lydia’s heart stuttered painfully.
My God.
What a fool she’d been!
All these weeks, berating the nephew who didn’t care a jot for poor old Huntsforth, and all this time he’d been here, right under her nose, no doubt laughing at the great joke he was playing.
She turned to him now, her humiliation fuelling her anger.
“You lied to me,” she spat through gritted teeth.
“Lydia, I can explain—” he said beseechingly.
“Oh, can you?” Her voice oozed sarcasm. “Well, then, I should love to hear it. And while you’re at it,” she continued, “you might explain why he keeps calling you Your Highness. Because although world history was never my strong suit, I’m fairly sure there is no royal family called Farago in Europe.”
Alex looked genuinely miserable, but Lydia hardened herself against it.
If he were miserable, it was because he’d been caught out in his deceit.
“Farago?” It was Huntsforth who spoke now. The man who hadn’t been able to keep his eyes open for two minutes together these past weeks was suddenly full of chatter.
“Is that what you’ve been calling yourself?” he asked Alex.
Alex merely nodded mutely, his jaw clenched.
“What do you mean, calling himself?” Lydia demanded. “That’s not even his name?” This she directed at Huntsforth, for if she looked at Alex, she would like burst into tears. Or throw something at him.
“It is my name—” Alex spoke quickly. “—just not my full name.”
Lydia did turn to him now, wrapping her arms around her midsection, feeling nausea rise in her.
“What is your full name?” she asked, filled with dread.
Alex took a deep breath before speaking again. “My name is Prince Alexander Philip Farago Wesslebach.”
Lydia heard a strange sort of buzzing in her ears at his words.
She heard Mama exclaim something, whilst wringing her hands.
She heard Harriet call her name, then whisper furiously to Alex.
Alex said nothing else. Merely stared at her.
“Prince?” she repeated weakly.
“Yes,” he answered emotionlessly. “Second in line to the throne of Aldonia.”
“And heir of Chillington Abbey,” she finished for him, since that part seemed to have slipped his mind.
His expression looked pained for a moment before he nodded mutely once more.
Harriet suddenly stepped forward, coming into Lydia’s line of vision.
“Lydia, Lady Charring, I am so sorry to have kept this from you. W-we came here to meet Huntsforth.” She spared a gentle smile for her uncle, who was watching proceedings avidly. “But he was unwell, and well, you seemed so disapproving of Alex. So, we—” She seemed to struggle for words. “…that is, he, Alex, I mean, he thought—”
“Harriet.”
That one word from Alex stopped his sister’s ramblings immediately.
His eyes hadn’t left Lydia.
“Let me explain properly,” he said softly.
It wasn’t a question, and that angered her further still.
“Is that a royal decree?” She sneered. “The prince has spoken, and we mere mortals must do as he commands?”
“Of course not,” he said impatiently.
“Forgive me, Your Highness.” Her voice was saccharine sweet and completely insincere. “But I’m not entirely sure what the protocol is when a prince who has spent weeks toying with one for his own amusement starts making demands of one.”
“Lydia.” He sounded pained, but she ignored it. “Toying with you? I love you. You know that.”
Mama gasped again, as did Harriet.
“I don’t know that,” she retorted angrily. “I don’t know if anything you’ve told me is true. And you—” She swung her accusatory stare to Huntsforth. “How do you even have a prince and princess for a niece and nephew? Why didn’t we know about it?”
Huntsforth looked suitably contrite, but Lydia wasn’t in the mood to believe anyone at that point.
“My wife, Anya, was the Crown Princess of Aldonia,” he said casually, as though announcing that they were to expect snow that evening. “Her father, the king, didn’t approve of her marrying a mere English lord, given that she was his only daughter and therefore the only princess.”
Huntsforth’s eyes took on a faraway look as he became lost in his memories, and despite herself, Lydia was drawn to him, to his story.
“Anya had a stubborn streak a mile wide.” Huntsforth grinned. “And we were in love. So, she gave up her title. We lived in Aldonia for some years, but when my own father died and I became Lord Huntsforth, we decided to move back to England.”
A pin would have sounded like symbols clashing as everyone listened to Huntsforth’s recounted past.
“She had doted on Christopher and Alexander so much when they were young.” Huntsforth smiled up at Alex now, who returned the smile, though he still looked tense. “Unfortunately, we left before Harriet’s arrival, but I have no doubt she would have loved you just as much,” he added to the young girl who came forward and sat at his feet, gripping his hand in her own.
“Your father was good to us, good to her in the beginning. He couldn’t defy his father’s edict too much, but he made sure to allow her to have a relationship with his children.”
“It wasn’t easy for her, moving away from you all. But even after all those years, there was no softening in your grandfather. So, we left.”
Lydia’s heart bled for Huntsforth and his wife. How hard it must have been for them, to be punished for loving each other.
It was bizarre in the extreme to think of a title as old and powerful as Huntsforth’s being seen as marrying down.
But then, this was royalty they were discussing.
Royalty!
“And we were happy. We truly were. Anya flourished with the freedom of living outside Aldonia. After being a princess, being a mere countess was a veritable walk in the park,” Huntsforth said with a sad smile.
He went silent for a moment or two, and Lydia much as she wanted answers, was loath to demand them.
After a sniff and a few rapid blinks, Huntsforth looked back up at them.
“We were blessed in many ways, but children wasn’t one of them,” he continued quietly. “So when it came time to choose an heir, I didn’t hesitate to choose Alex.”
Lydia couldn’t resist glancing i
n Alex’s direction at Huntsforth’s words.
His jaw was still tense, his fists clenched at his sides, and his eyes were suspiciously bright.
Her heart tried to melt a little, but she refused to let it.
He had lied to her.
He had made her fall in love with someone who didn’t even exist!
She had dreamt of a future that couldn’t possibly happen now.
The daughter of a mere English baron had no business marrying a prince.
“Christopher was already spoken for in terms of inheritance.” Huntsforth grinned. “So it was natural that I should choose Alex.”
The silence in the wake of Huntsforth’s speech was heavy with words unsaid.
Lydia didn’t quite know how to break it, or even if she should.
In the space of moments her entire life had fallen apart.
She wanted to run away and lick her wounds, but the house would be filled with guests soon and Mama would need her…
“I didn’t know.” It was Alex who spoke first, and his voice was so filled with regret and pain that she actually lifted a hand to comfort him before she remembered herself.
“My father — he never said. And as soon as I found out, I came to see you. I’m sorry, Uncle.”
He sounded sorry, seemed genuinely contrite.
Lydia thought back with shame on all the horrid things she’d said about him. But then, she hadn’t known it was Alex about whom she was speaking.
And she hadn’t known that she was calling a prince all manner of terrible things.
“It’s not your fault, Alex,” Huntsforth said kindly, rising unsteadily to his feet. “I’m just glad to see you now. I know your aunt would have been thrilled that you came.”
Alex strode over and gave his uncle a fierce hug, before releasing him so that Harriet could do the same.
That damned heart of hers was determined to melt, fluttering wildly as she took in the touching scene before her.
But then she thought of how she had trusted him. How she had looked forward to spending her life with him, should he ask.
And of how that was now an impossibility.
Without warning, and much to her horror, her eyes filled with tears.
Alex turned to her and took a tentative step forward, but Lydia stumbled back away from him.
The pain in his expression was nothing compared to the pain ripping through her at that moment, and it was all too much.
The Hidden Prince Page 6