Carol Grace - A Princess In Waiting

He knew she needed help whether she’d admit it or not. Living in this humble cottage with only her faithful nanny was not suitable for a princess. Especially one pregnant with his brother’s child. Being deserted by his scoundrel of a brother was something that had to be righted. He was the one who could do it. He wanted to sweep her off her feet and carry her away to the kind of life she deserved. However, she didn’t look as if she’d permit him or anyone else to sweep her off her feet.

She didn’t know why he was there, but he did. He’d planned his speech. He knew what he had to say, but now that he was there and she was looking at him with those incredible blue eyes, he could only stand and stare.

She’d changed. It had only been eight months, but she was not the same demure princess who’d so dazzled him on her wedding day. It wasn’t only her clothing, it was her manner. He’d thought she’d be meek and mild and jump at the chance he was going to offer her. Now he wasn’t so sure. She had a stubborn tilt to her chin, a proud look in her eyes and a certain tone to her voice. If he’d been infatuated with her before, he was fascinated now. He didn’t know what she was going to say next. He decided to put off his declaration.

He was saved by the entrance of her nanny.

“Lise,” Gertrude said, opening the greenhouse door just a crack. “Won’t you ask Monsieur Rodin in for some tea? I fear it’s chilly out there.”

Lise looked annoyed, but her manners didn’t fail her. “Of course,” she said. “Won’t you come in, Charles?”

He nodded. He was relieved, unwilling to leave without saying what he’d come to say, but not ready to say it. Not without some hope she’d agree to his plan.

In the cozy parlor a fire was blazing, the silver tea service was on the table and Gertrude was nowhere to be seen. Lise motioned to him to take a seat across from her on a chintz-covered love seat. He watched her pour the tea into two delicate china cups.

“Sugar, lemon?” she asked.

He shook his head. Though she was dressed like an artisan, she had the manners of a princess, and she always would. She’d grown up in a palace, but she seemed completely at home in this modest cottage. He wondered how much sorrow, how much disillusion she was hiding. He wondered if she still loved his brother. Or if she’d ever loved him. He knew it had been only a political match on his brother’s part, but what if he’d broken Lise’s heart? If he had, Charles would never forgive him.

“What are your plans?” he asked.

“Plans?” she asked.

“For the future.”

“Ah, the future. Good question. First I will call the repairman again about the leaky roof. When it rains, he’s always too busy, and when it stops and the sun shines, he goes fishing.”

He glanced at the ceiling.

“It’s in the kitchen.”

“Let me handle it for you. I know a man I can send. You shouldn’t have to live like this, you know.”

“I live very well,” she said so swiftly, he knew he’d said the wrong thing. Her blue eyes were cool and distant. “Much better than I lived in Rhineland. I have my nanny, my work and the freedom to do what I please, be what I please.”

“What about the baby?” He couldn’t help letting his gaze stray to her stomach. There was no sign of maternity there. Not yet. Yet he thought he noticed a slight rounding of her cheeks, a smoothing of her brow. But maybe he was just imagining the effects of pregnancy, of which he knew nothing. He’d always hoped to find someone, a woman to share his life with, to bear his children. But he’d always known he’d never find anyone as lovely as Lise de Bergeron.

“The baby will fit in to my life. I have a large bedroom.” She gestured toward a pair of French doors to her left. “Plenty of room for a cradle.”

He almost told her that babies grew up and needed rooms of their own, but he didn’t. She knew that and it was none of his business.

“Whatever happened to our star-crossed ancestors?” he asked, changing the subject to something safer and less personal. “Frederic the Bold and Princess Gabrielle. I don’t remember the end of the story. Or maybe I never heard it. Sometimes Grandfather got distracted or confused.”

“I don’t believe Frederic ever married,” Lise said. “He resisted all royal efforts to marry him off to one European princess or another. It’s too bad I didn’t follow his example.” Though her tone was light, a shadow fell over her pale face.

“Don’t blame yourself,” he said frowning. “There were reasons.”

“Of course,” she said. “There always are. Being small and defenseless, St. Michel has always needed alliances with foreign powers. Believe me, I’ve heard it over and over from my father and grandmother.”

“But it’s wrong to use humans as pawns in these games,” he said.

She didn’t answer. Instead, she refilled his cup. “And the beautiful Gabrielle?” she asked. “What became of her? Did she marry her fiancé?”

“I’m not sure. I’ll have to do some research and get back to you on that. If Grandfather were here…”

“You miss him,” she said simply, her expression softening.

Yes, he missed the old man in many ways. Someone he could go to with his troubles. Someone who’d listen with a sympathetic ear. Someone who cared about him when no one else seemed to.

“Yes. He was the one person…” He stopped abruptly. Why go into family matters? She’d presumably had her fill of the dysfunctional Rodin family while living in Rhineland with his brother. Talking about the distant past was safer and allowed him to keep the dialog going, to keep the connection between them. Maybe it happened a long time ago, maybe it was history repeating itself. Whatever it was, he knew he’d do anything to forge a bond between Lise and himself. A bond that had nothing to do with his brother.

“I mustn’t keep you any longer, Charles,” she said, glancing at the door. It was plain she was dismissing him before he’d said what he’d come to say.

He’d hoped to establish a mood and set up the appropriate atmosphere. He’d planned to lead up to it gradually, but he no longer had time. It was clear it had to be now. He stood and looked down at her. The silence in the room was deafening. It was now or never. He took a deep breath.

“I came today to offer you my hand in marriage,” he said.

There, it was out.

Lise turned pale. She braced herself with her hands on the seat cushion of her chair. Her mouth fell open in surprise. Good thing she was sitting down, because he was afraid she was going to faint. He went down on his knees next to her and held out his hand, but she ignored the gesture and leaned back against the cushions. Her eyelids fluttered.

He cursed himself for being so blunt. He’d obviously said it all wrong. How did he know? He’d never proposed to anyone before. Never wanted to settle down with any woman he’d ever met. Only one. And she was taken. Now she was free.

His view of marriage had always been shaped by that of his parents. He wanted no part of any institution that was designed to bring together suitable mates to ensure political stability. His parents were polite to each other, but he’d never witnessed much warmth or affection between them. But this was a different situation. There was no doubt in his mind this was his obligation, his duty. If it were only that, he could explain it to her rationally. But there was nothing rational about the way he felt about her. Nothing rational about the way the desire surged through his veins.

“I’ve taken you by surprise,” he said, getting to his feet and clasping his hands together behind his back. He couldn’t tell her he loved her or that he desired her, that would only frighten her and she surely wouldn’t believe him. He had to present it from another angle. “I didn’t mean to startle you, but surely you see the logic of it. How advantageous it would be.”