Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
17
Victor
Princess Mary pulled together a soirée in a short time. Servants float about with canapés. I grab two flutes of champagne as the herald announces the presence of Miss Madeline Elliott. All the arseholes whose laughter has grated my ear and who’ve attempted a chin-wagging avert their attention to the top of the sweeping staircase. There is a round of applause. A white lace gown washes out Maddy’s porcelain skin. Limp brown hair droops over her shoulders.
I down the drink in my left hand. Tipping back the one in my right with the same attentiveness, I finish it, set those aside, and grab two more.
My mum glides over to the end of the steps, her ladies surrounding her.
When we were younger, mother hated Madeline. The girl came from money but had no royal ties to the Queen. Now, Mum appears chuffed to bits, enfolding Madeline into a hug that sure enough has Maddy confused. Madeline’s conflicted dark brown eyes melt when she sets them on me. In a dash, my friend has unwrapped herself from her nemesis’s hold.
“Oh, Victor.” Maddy is in my arms in seconds. My gut sinks at all the promises I've made. This will be the first time I do not intend to keep them.
“It’s almost dinner. Take a walk with me before?” Madeleine implores. “It’s been so long since you were . . . home.”
There’s that dreaded word again—home—so heavy with meaning.
I take her arm in mine, and we stroll toward the outer terrace. Once outside, two guards post themselves on opposite sides of the entryway.
“Should I ask why Her Royal Highness, the Duchess, is so happy to see me?” Madeline tugs at her fingertips.
“Her Royal Highness, the Duchess? Since when have you used such formalities? You hate my mother.” My eyebrows raise. I lean an elbow against the smooth, marbled railing and cross my legs at the ankle.
“After Christmas passed, and New Years as well, without a single call, I had a feeling you weren’t ready. I consented to the open relationship, but when will we marry?”
“Never.”
“Little too late for that, don’t you think? The Queen has made it her mission to insert me into the lifestyle.” Maddy waves a hand. “Everything I do is for you.”
“I’m aware of my grandmother’s doings.” I take a deep inhale, knowing that the Queen’s declining this event tonight is to signify her disdain and growing impatience. The monarch had not asked for this marriage.
I did.
I made a simple request, really, to a woman I’d always held in a platonic regard. A lady Princess Mary abhors because her parents’ Somerhaven estate has always rivaled Mum’s duchy.
Maddy was the first person to attend to my bruises when Father got abusive and Burt was away. She was a worthy choice until I set eyes on Luxury Whitson.
“Maddy, the Queen didn’t sanction the engagement. I came to you. It was an agreement between two friends—”
“So, this other woman, I hear that she's barely even that. More a child, Victor.” Maddy frowns, her thin eyebrows crinkling together with distaste. “I hear—”
“Judge your fucking words, Maddy,” I glare at her under a new light, darkened in thoughts of murder.
A nervous hand smooths down the side of her dress. “Listen, the Queen understands. She'll allow you to—”
“Allow?” I cut in.
“Oh, goodness. Shall I monitor all my words? You and I had a plan, sure. And yes, your first consideration should be to the Queen of England. No, we did not officially announce our engagement. My cock-up to believe you’d follow through.”
“Alright? We’ve united on that front. We were not ever, nor will we ever, be engaged.” I stare deeply into Madeline’s eyes. “My solicitors gave you a contract. You agreed to said terms, although waived your own legal teams’ advice, which I offered to recompensate.”
“I signed the contract.”
“Which stipulated terms if we were ever to marry, and I assure you, that is no longer a question.”
Moonlight waxes her narrowed gaze. “That injudicious contract only benefited one person, Victor. I’ve money! Lots of it. We marry, you fuck every whore under God’s sun, and perhaps I bare a chi—”
“No children,” I grit out. “Madeline Elliot, line four of section two indicates that consummating our marriage was not required. The price of your agreement.”
“You’re so insufferable, Victor. I’m your friend. I didn’t accept your terms for anything other than my position as your friend. Victor,” worry bleeds into her tone, “we all get your reasoning.”
“ ‘My reasoning?’ Am I to understand that you're all fucking over it?” I scoff.
“No! You’re an untamable bloke. Look at me. I’ve not the allure to secure your attention for—not even for a single, bloody night!”
I fork a hand through my hair. “What are you on about, Maddy? You’re gorg―”
“Come off it, Victor. I’m not. Nevertheless, if I got an offer—”
“If you received a proposal and the feelings were mutual, you knew to respond accordingly. I distinctively recall a similar discussion last October.”