I bunch my fingers on the hem of his coat and pour my feelings into the kiss—partly to make up for the pain I’ll cause when I leave, but mostly for encouraging him to warm up to Lillie.
Someone coughs loudly. Edward breaks off the kiss and stands up, and I catch a flash of annoyance in his eyes. There, in the doorway, stand Philip, Constance, and a bunch of other lords and ladies, all of them wearing identical expressions of pure shock. Lady Fremont has a hand over her mouth. There’s also Lillie, who looks like someone struck her on the head. She meets my eyes for a second and suddenly dashes off. I can almost hear her heart breaking.
Well, there goes any hope of finding a substitute for Edward when I’m gone. But now I don’t feel any remorse. I promised Edward that we’d be the happiest couple in Athelia, and this time, I swear I will keep my promise.
“Well, although I am glad that Katriona is well,” Philip says, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, “might I remind you, my dear cousin, that you are not married yet. Even though I can perfectly comprehend your feelings.”
“Not to mention that you aren’t even officially engaged,” Constance says. Her tone is more severe—not surprising, since she’s a stickler for propriety.
I sneeze just at that moment. Edward reaches into his pocket and gives me his handkerchief. “Send for the doctor immediately. I will not have Kat develop a cold.”
* * *
Our remaining few days at Northport are the happiest I have experienced since entering the palace. I caught a cold after all—not surprising, considering that I was standing for a while before a servant brought me a towel—and was ordered to stay in bed until His Royal Fussiness and the physician decided I was well enough to leave. It’s almost like being Jane Bennet, although however attentive Edward behaves, his manner will always seem more Darcy-ish to me.
Edward seems smugly content—which I soon discover why. After that public demonstration that borders on scandalous, my reputation is as good as ruined by my would-be fiancé. It also sent a message to the others: the prince was so overcome with relief that his beloved is safe that he couldn’t control himself in an irrational display of passion. It will be an ill-considered move to separate us.
I’m both embarrassed and pleased. To think that the best way to safeguard from being tricked into a compromising position is to simply engage in the compromising position ourselves.
“Are you sure it’s okay if you don’t go out with them?” I ask. Duke Philip and the men have just left for another grouse-shooting expedition in the moors. From the bed, I can see them astride their horses, the brass holsters of the guns poking from their hips.
Edward settles on a stool by the bed. “Perfectly sure. In fact, I have to thank you. This is the perfect excuse I need to not join the hunt. I always prefer to create a life rather than to extinguish one.”
There’s a rustle of skirts. Constance enters, followed by an array of servants. She waves a hand like a commander, and they go to work like well-trained soldiers. One stokes the fireplace, another clears the dishes on my breakfast tray, and yet another changes the hot water bottle.
“My dear Katriona! Do tell me that you are feeling better this morning. We were so concerned about you, and your presence at breakfast was sorely missed.”
“Um . . .” Considering that I rarely speak more than a sentence or two among them, I suppose she’s just being polite, especially since Edward’s also there. “I’m sorry. Actually, I’m almost recovered. I would have attended breakfast if someone ”—I send Edward a meaningful look—“hadn’t insisted on treating me like a porcelain doll.”
“It is for the safety of others, as well,” Edward says with his emotionless face on. “To prevent them from being infected from your cold.”
I roll my eyes. “And you are immune?”
He doesn’t
Someone coughs loudly. Edward breaks off the kiss and stands up, and I catch a flash of annoyance in his eyes. There, in the doorway, stand Philip, Constance, and a bunch of other lords and ladies, all of them wearing identical expressions of pure shock. Lady Fremont has a hand over her mouth. There’s also Lillie, who looks like someone struck her on the head. She meets my eyes for a second and suddenly dashes off. I can almost hear her heart breaking.
Well, there goes any hope of finding a substitute for Edward when I’m gone. But now I don’t feel any remorse. I promised Edward that we’d be the happiest couple in Athelia, and this time, I swear I will keep my promise.
“Well, although I am glad that Katriona is well,” Philip says, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, “might I remind you, my dear cousin, that you are not married yet. Even though I can perfectly comprehend your feelings.”
“Not to mention that you aren’t even officially engaged,” Constance says. Her tone is more severe—not surprising, since she’s a stickler for propriety.
I sneeze just at that moment. Edward reaches into his pocket and gives me his handkerchief. “Send for the doctor immediately. I will not have Kat develop a cold.”
* * *
Our remaining few days at Northport are the happiest I have experienced since entering the palace. I caught a cold after all—not surprising, considering that I was standing for a while before a servant brought me a towel—and was ordered to stay in bed until His Royal Fussiness and the physician decided I was well enough to leave. It’s almost like being Jane Bennet, although however attentive Edward behaves, his manner will always seem more Darcy-ish to me.
Edward seems smugly content—which I soon discover why. After that public demonstration that borders on scandalous, my reputation is as good as ruined by my would-be fiancé. It also sent a message to the others: the prince was so overcome with relief that his beloved is safe that he couldn’t control himself in an irrational display of passion. It will be an ill-considered move to separate us.
I’m both embarrassed and pleased. To think that the best way to safeguard from being tricked into a compromising position is to simply engage in the compromising position ourselves.
“Are you sure it’s okay if you don’t go out with them?” I ask. Duke Philip and the men have just left for another grouse-shooting expedition in the moors. From the bed, I can see them astride their horses, the brass holsters of the guns poking from their hips.
Edward settles on a stool by the bed. “Perfectly sure. In fact, I have to thank you. This is the perfect excuse I need to not join the hunt. I always prefer to create a life rather than to extinguish one.”
There’s a rustle of skirts. Constance enters, followed by an array of servants. She waves a hand like a commander, and they go to work like well-trained soldiers. One stokes the fireplace, another clears the dishes on my breakfast tray, and yet another changes the hot water bottle.
“My dear Katriona! Do tell me that you are feeling better this morning. We were so concerned about you, and your presence at breakfast was sorely missed.”
“Um . . .” Considering that I rarely speak more than a sentence or two among them, I suppose she’s just being polite, especially since Edward’s also there. “I’m sorry. Actually, I’m almost recovered. I would have attended breakfast if someone ”—I send Edward a meaningful look—“hadn’t insisted on treating me like a porcelain doll.”
“It is for the safety of others, as well,” Edward says with his emotionless face on. “To prevent them from being infected from your cold.”
I roll my eyes. “And you are immune?”
He doesn’t
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