“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 in the vast ballroom 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. And her brother, your father still wrote. Still told us his news. Told us of your arrival, Harriet,” 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 in 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. My whole life he never said. He never told us that you were still alive, even. 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 Lydia’s 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.
With a muffled cry, Lydia turned on her heel and fled from the ballroom.
Her dream night had become a nightmare, and she didn’t think the hurt would ever go.
Chapter Ten
Alex struggled to keep his expression even as people laughed and danced and made merry all around him.
This evening had been emotionally draining for everyone. But none, he feared, more than Lydia.
His heart ached as he remembered the look on her face, the tears in her beautiful blue eyes.
Alex had done some questionable things in his time, but none had ever made him feel such an utter bastard as hurting the woman he loved.
He had wanted to run to her, but Prudence had cautioned him to give Lydia space.
So, after he’d seen Huntsforth, who had tired quickly, back to his room, Alex had returned to the ball.
And now he stood here, ignoring the revelry all around him, wanting nothing more than to go to her and beg for forgiveness.
Mere hours ago, he’d been declaring his love for her. He’d been about to tell her everything and ask her to marry him.
And now… well, she would probably never speak to him again.
And he only had himself to blame.
He watched dispassionately as an army of debutantes made their way in his direction with all the subtlety of a runaway carriage.
News had spread like wildfire that there was royalty present and Alex had spent the night feeling like there was a damned target on his back.
He met Harriet’s eyes across the ballroom and she grimaced sympathetically. She too had spent the night listening to sycophantic posturing and ingratiating flattery.
But whereas Harriet was willing to act as she should and accept the adoration as any good royal would, Alex couldn’t bring himself to even muster a polite smile.
Suddenly his control snapped.
No matter what her mother said, he couldn’t stand here knowing that Lydia was alone and hurting because of him.
Without a word to anyone, he turned and swiftly left the ballroom, making his way upstairs.
Ignoring his conscience, ignoring propriety and Society rules, Alex bounded up to Lydia’s bedchamber and banged on the closed door.
There was no answer, even though he waited and waited, continuing to knock the entire time.
Finally, he gave up and moved away, his heart aching.
He passed by Huntsforth’s rooms and stopped dead in his tracks as he h
eard Lydia’s voice within.
“But, my dear, why not give him a chance to explain?”
Alex could have hugged his uncle all over again as he heard the man’s question.
“What would be the point?”
His gut clenched at the desolation in Lydia’s tone. He wanted to rush inside and gather her in his arms, protecting her from anything that could hurt her, even though he was the source of her current pain.
He’d never hated himself so much.
“Don’t you love him? For it’s as clear as day that he loves you.”
Alex held his breath while he waited for her to answer.
And she took so long that he began to feel woozy.
“It doesn’t matter if I love him or not,” she finally said.
What the hell sort of answer was that?
“Just humour an old man, hmm?” Huntsforth coaxed.
Lydia heaved a deep sigh. “Of course I love him,” she finally said, not sounding overly happy about it. “I love him more than I can even express. But it’s useless.”
“What is, dear?”
“Him. Us. This.” Her voice trembled more and more with every word. “I-I thought—naively, it turns out—that we might have a future together. I had such girlish dreams of marriage and children. And it’s all for naught.”
“Of course it’s not,” Huntsforth said with more strength than Alex had heard thus far in the man’s voice. “What makes you say such a thing?”
“He’s a prince, Huntsforth. A prince! And I’m a woman who is far too forthright for her own good. A woman who would rather stomp around collecting holly than sit doing needlepoint. I prefer the taste of ale to tea, for heaven’s sake. I could never marry a prince. I’m not good enough.”
Alex couldn’t stay silent any longer.
He burst into the bedchamber, causing Lydia to leap up from her seat by Huntsforth’s bed.
“What are you doing?” she demanded, planting her hands on her hips.
“Lydia!” he exclaimed then abruptly stopped talking because he didn’t actually know what he wanted to say. He just knew that he couldn’t bear to hear her disparage all the things about herself that he loved the most.
She frowned at him, no doubt waiting for him to speak again.
But he was speechless. He didn’t even know where to start, how to explain.
After a moment or two of awkward silence, she opened her mouth, no doubt to ring a peal over his head.
And Alex did what was instinctive.
He stopped the words before they even started, by pulling her to him and kissing her senseless.
Lydia immediately melted under Alex’s touch before she became aware of a strange sort of gurgling sound.
Pulling away from his sinful mouth, she realised that they’d been kissing like that in front of poor Huntsforth, who now looked like he was going to have an apoplexy.
Stammering an apology, and ignoring the scoundrel beside her who refused to loosen his grip on her heart, she fled the room.
But where to go?
She couldn’t face the ball right now, even though she was sure Mama would be beside herself.
And it seemed as though the house wasn’t safe.
Making a sudden decision, Lydia rushed to her room to don a warm cloak and change into serviceable kid boots instead of the impractical satin slippers she currently wore. She readied herself and then dashed outside. Straight to the holly bush.
It was ridiculously sentimental to return to the place where she’d first fallen in love with Alex. No. Prince Alex.
The sooner she got used to saying that, to thinking that, the sooner she could convince her foolish heart that he was lost to her.
The silence of the snowy night was a balm to her frayed nerves.
As Lydia stood there, trying to gather her riotous thoughts, the snow began to fall gently from the sky.
The darkness of the night, the fresh beauty of the blanketed ground and now the softly falling snow helped to quieten her as nothing else could have.
Nothing, she decided, could be more peaceful than a snowfall at night.
“I hoped to find you here.”
Lydia’s heart, which had only just begun to slow, raced again as Alex’s voice sounded behind her.
“Can I help you, Your Highness?” she asked stiffly, not feeling remotely strong enough to turn and face him.
“Please don’t call me that, Lydia,” he implored her.
She wanted to argue, but the fight had gone out of her. She was tired. She was heartbroken. And she didn’t have the strength to continue this battle.
“Leave me alone,” she whispered.
“I can’t do that,” he said, stepping around her and gently lifting her chin so she had no choice but to look at him.
“Why not?”
“Because I love you,” he answered simply. “And I’m terrified that if I leave you alone long enough, you’ll talk yourself into not loving me back. And I couldn’t live with that.”
Lydia’s heart begged her to just go to him, but she couldn’t. She actually listened to her brain for once. A miracle in itself.
“I don’t know what you want me to say,” she admitted.
“I want you to say you love me,” he responded immediately, his eyes shining in the moonlight.
She could lie. But what would be the point? She wouldn’t have behaved as she had with him if she didn’t love him.
“I do love you,” she said. “But it doesn’t matter.”
“How can it not matter?” he countered. “What could matter more?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” she responded sarcastically. “The fact that you’re a bloody prince?”
Swearing was obviously not ideal. However, if ever a situation warranted it, it was this one.
“The fact that you lied to me,” she spat. “The fact that we can never—” Her voice cracked, and she had to swallow hard before she could continue. “—that we can never be together,” she finished miserably.
Alex frowned looking confused, but it seemed clear to her.
“How can you even say that?” He asked softly. “We can’t not be together, Lydia. I don’t want to live without you. I won’t live without you. I want to marry you.”
Oh, why did he have to go and say that? Voice her deepest desires. It was already hard enough to even think those things without hearing them from his mouth.
“Alex, I’m no princess.” She pulled her chin from his grip refusing to miss the heated contact. “I can’t be royalty, for heaven’s sake. I don’t even ride side-saddle most of the time.”
The correlation between the two things probably didn’t make much sense to him, but for Lydia, it just highlighted how un-royal she was.
“I don’t care about things like that,” he argued. “I care about you.”
Lydia shook her head.
“I can’t do it,” she reiterated. “I don’t want to. I cannot leave Mama. Or Huntsforth. I’m sorry.”
He studied her for so long she was worried he’d frozen in the inclement conditions.
After an age, he stepped forward and grasped her shoulders.
“Fine,” he said, and her heart sank like the fool it was. “We won’t leave them.”
Now it was her turn to look confused.
“Wha—”
“We’ll stay here. I’ll learn how to run my inheritance.”
He sounded so matter-of-fact. So sure.
It was utter madness.
“Alex, be serious.”
“I have never been more serious in my life,” he said firmly.
“You – you can’t,” she cried after gaping at him in silence.
“Why can’t I?”
“Alex.” Lydia spoke slowly as though she were dealing with a particularly irascible toddler, which is what it felt like right then. “Prince Alex,” she emphasised. “You’re a member of the royal family of Aldonia. You can’t just decide – well, not to be.”
He smiled, look
ing far too relaxed for her liking.
“No, I can’t just decide not to be a member of my family anymore,” he confirmed. “But I can decide what I want to do with my life. And with whom I want to spend it. And I can promise you, sweetheart, nothing will ever make me happier than just being Alex. And being here. With you.”
Lydia wanted to believe him—so much that it hurt.
“I can’t ask you to give all of that up,” she whispered, past a painful lump in her throat.
“You didn’t ask,” he said gently. “And besides, the only thing I will be giving up is a lifestyle empty of any real purpose. Lydia, all I’ve ever been is the second prince. The second son. The spare. Here, with you, I get a chance to be a man whom I am proud to be. To love you, to spend every morning waking up with you in my arms, and every day doing everything in my power to make you happy. Nothing could ever be more important than that.”
She couldn’t contain a sob as her heart soared with joy at his words even as good sense told her it couldn’t be.
That he couldn’t be serious.
“I quite like the idea of playing at being an English lord. And as long as you’re happy with your prospective husband downgrading from a prince to a mere earl, then I’m happy to do it.”
Lydia laughed aloud at his words.
“You don’t know what you’re saying.” She tried once more to reason with him.
Suddenly he reached out and clasped the tops of her arms.
“I do, my darling. For the first time in my life, I know exactly what I want and exactly where I want to be. It’s you—all of it, everything—it’s all you.”
Lydia stood frozen. Unable to believe him. Unable to move from his arms.
Just say yes, her heart cried. But that brain of hers…
They stood there facing each other for what felt like hours, Lydia gazing into the depths of his eyes, seeing nothing but sincerity and – her heart stuttered – pure, unfettered love.
Finally, even her brain allowed her to rejoice, and Lydia threw her arms around his waist, pressing herself closer to him.
“I love you.” Her voice was muffled against his warm chest.
His arms came around her, and his lips pressed against her head.
“Thank God,” he whispered.
The Hidden Prince (The Royals of Aldonia Book 1) Page 7
