by Noelle Adams
A Princess for a Bride
Noelle Adams
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2017 by Noelle Adams. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means.
Contents
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Epilogue
Excerpt from A Princess in Waiting
About Noelle Adams
One
My wedding dress looked like something out of a romantic fairy tale with handmade lace, pearl beadwork, and a cathedral-length train—the picture-perfect bridal gown for the second daughter of a king. My mother started commissioning the fabrics years ago in anticipation of her three daughters getting married.
I was the first.
My name is Victoria Rothman, and my dress was where the fairy tale ended.
I know from experience that people often imagine princesses existing in perpetual fairy tales, but I can tell you for sure that it isn’t true.
I’ve never been in love. I’ve never even had a particularly romantic evening, since being a princess of Villemont—an often forgotten micro-state in the Alps between Switzerland and France—doesn’t exactly lend itself to a thriving social life or healthy intimate relationships.
I barely know my husband-to-be. In fact, he’ll hardly talk to me. I’ve always been a friendly, out-going person, but I’m lucky if I can get him to say three words to me in a row.
Yes, that’s me. A princess marrying the heir to a billion-dollar fortune. Living the fairy tale—where my husband and I don’t even talk.
I suppose the “once upon a time” of this particular fairy tale was today—my wedding day. At the moment, I was trying to put on my dress without snagging the delicate silk mesh.
“It’s utterly gorgeous,” my sister Amalie breathed, beginning to fasten the tiny buttons down the back. “You’re so beautiful.”
I smiled, since that was always nice to hear—no matter the circumstances. But my voice was dry and natural as I said, “Thank you. Mother will be so disappointed if this wedding isn’t a proper spectacle.”
My mother basically arranged this marriage. She originally wanted Edward to marry Amalie, since she was the oldest, but when Amalie rejected the possibility, the pressure and responsibility fell to me. Now that she was getting her way, my mother was making the most of it, staging such an elaborate wedding that all of Europe would hopefully be impressed, even by a tiny, struggling country like ours.
“It’s going to be something.” Amalie smiled at me in the mirror, but then her expression grew sober. I knew what she was going to ask before she said it. “Are you sure this is what you want, Victoria?”
“How many times have you asked me that over the past few months?”
“Many. I know. But I’m so worried. I don’t want you to live your life unhappily.”
“I’m not going to be unhappy. I’ve never expected to be swept off my feet in a romantic fantasy. Not all of us can move in next door to our own Prince Charming, you know.”
Amalie chuckled. “I’m not sure Jack would appreciate being called Prince Charming.”
A few years ago, Amalie rebelled against our mother’s plan for her life, and she moved to the United States to go to university. She met and fell in love with an American, and for the past few months she’d been happier than I’d ever seen her.
I was glad for her. I genuinely was.
But I wasn’t foolish enough to expect something similar to happen to me.
Princesses of Villemont don’t live their own lives. They marry well, as is their duty to their family. Perhaps one could reject that fate from time to time. Amalie had taken that opportunity. She was the exception.
There couldn’t be two exceptions in one family.
When I saw Amalie was still peering at me in concern, I said, “Please don’t fuss. I’ve known I was going to marry someone advantageous since I was a girl. I never expected anything else. I’m not unhappy or disappointed by this.”
“I hope not. I just wish it was someone you could… you could maybe grow to love.”
I gave a little shrug. “Don’t be unrealistic. I’m not. Edward and I are going to get along just fine. Naturally, it would be nice if we could at least be friends and if he wasn’t such an arrogant snob. But he’s not cruel. I know him well enough to know that at least. We can leave each other alone and live our own lives. I’ll be a lot better off than many women we know. I have nothing to complain about.”
“All right. I hope so. I’m just so happy that I feel guilty—like I left all the family responsibility to you.”
I shook my head. “Don’t feel that way. I’m sorry I made you feel that way when you first got together with Jack. I was wrong. This isn’t your fault. It’s my choice, and you need to let me do it without constantly second-guessing me.”
Amalie nodded, as if my words had finally gotten through to her. “If you’re sure.” She stroked my blond hair lightly, which had been perfectly curled and coifed for the occasion. “You look so beautiful.”
I stared at myself in the mirror, hardly recognizing the elegant figure. I’m tallish and in good shape, with a nice enough figure, clear skin, and very blue eyes. People often said I’m the prettiest of the three Rothman daughters, although I’m not always sure that’s the case.
At the moment, though, I barely recognized myself.
I looked like someone who was an appropriate match for Edward Farmingham Channing IV, sophisticated heir to a billionaire.
Hopefully he would be pleased with my appearance.
He often sneered when he saw me, as if I were beneath him, but perhaps he wouldn’t today.
***
A few minutes later, Amalie left my dressing room so she could get ready for the wedding herself.
My mother came in almost immediately, dressed in a beautifully tailored pale gray silk gown.
My mother is British. She was born into an moderately well-to-do family, and she’d gone to a stuffy boarding school in Switzerland, which was where she’d met my father. As far as I could tell, they’d never had a great romantic passion. It was more like they’d suited each other, and they’d been happily married now for almost thirty years.
Sometimes I encouraged myself by looking at them. Perhaps Edward and I suited each other in a similar way. We could be happily married too.
My goals in life had always been to have children and to do something genuinely worthwhile for my family and country. Both were still quite doable goals. In fact, this marriage was a step in the right direction for them.
“What do you think, Mother?” I asked, slowly twirling around so she could get the full effect of my wedding gown. I have two sisters and one older brother—Henry. Never in our lives had we called our mother anything except “Mother.”
“Lovely, my dear.” She looked quite pleased with my appearance, so that was a good thing. “The wedding is going to be perfect.”
I hoped it was, for her sake more than mine. I wasn’t any sort of perfectionist and could easily overlook a few minor flaws or mistakes. The main thing was for the wedding to go smoothly and for there not to be any embarrassments for my family or country that could make us a spectacle in the newspapers.
While some might genuinely believe that any publicity was
good publicity, that certainly wasn’t the case for my family.
Far better to be overlooked than to appear as fools.
“I’m so proud of you, Victoria.” My mother gently smoothed down a few errant hairs that had escaped a pin. “This marriage will make all the difference in the world to us.”
She meant the money—I knew. By most of the world’s standards, the Rothman family was quite wealthy, but our cost of living was incredibly high because the trappings of royalty were so important to our lifestyle. We were supposed to live like billionaires while having far less money to work with. All my life, my siblings and I had felt this strange tug-of-war between luxury and thriftiness, and we never knew which pressure would come out on top at any given moment.
Generally the rule for us was to spend money on what would be on display to the public but not on anything only the family would see. My bedroom hadn’t been redecorated since I was five years old.
“I know,” I said, replying to my mother’s comment. “I’m happy it’s all working out.”
“And you’re going to be just fine—I know. Edward is a good man.”
He was a rich man, anyway.
“Yes,” I said with a smile.
“You don’t have any concerns about… anything, do you, dear?”
I wasn’t at all sure what she was asking. Concerns about the marriage overall? Concerns about the details of the wedding ceremony? Concerns about the wedding night?
I’d had sex with two men before—my high school boyfriend and a young man I dated for a couple of months last year—but I’d never discussed my sex life with my mother. As far as I knew, she probably believed I was a virgin.
“Of course not,” I told her with a smile. “I can handle anything. I’m a Rothman.”
She smiled back, her face softening in a way it almost never did. “You are. And never forget it. Your grandmother held the country together single-handedly during World War II, and your great-great-great grandmother held out against Napoleon’s onslaught. We bow and cower to no one.”
I hadn’t realized I was nervous at all, but the words comforted me nonetheless.
I was a Rothman. I had a long history of strength and valor—in the Rothman women as much as the men. I had nothing to be afraid of.
My pride was a match to any man’s.
Including Edward Farmingham Channing IV’s.
***
Three hours later, and I was married.
The traditional Catholic ceremony was beautiful and formal, and the historic Cathedral in the heart of Villemont was packed with international dignitaries and everyone of influence in the country. It took me a full five minutes to process down the long center aisle in my gorgeous dress.
I don’t tend to be shy. In fact, I’m never shy. But I must say that being the center of that kind of attention for so long was a bit unnerving.
Also unnerving was Edward’s unswerving gaze. He was more than ten years older than me—in his mid-thirties—and he was very handsome with dark hair, blue eyes, and a lean, strong body. He’d been working for his family business since he graduated from university—acquiring and selling precious items like jewelry, fine art, and high-end clocks—and his father had always been my father’s best friend.
I first remember meeting Edward when I was twelve years old. He always seemed to be hanging around, although we never talked. For a long time, I assumed he’d marry Amalie, since that was my mother’s plan, so I never gave him much thought until Amalie rebelled and it became clear that I was the one who would need to do her duty and bring the Channing fortune into the Rothman family.
As I processed down the aisle, Edward never stopped looking at me, but he also never smiled once. His expression throughout the entire ceremony was grave, utterly sober. Maybe he was just trying to respect the seriousness of the situation, but to me it looked more like he was going to a funeral.
He obviously wasn’t very excited about this marriage.
Neither was I, but at least I was willing to make the best of it.
I might not be bringing any money into this marriage, but I was a Rothman, part of a royal family. The Channings were gaining by this marriage too—since attachment to a royal family would add significant cachet to their business.
Marrying me wasn’t an act of charity, and Edward certainly shouldn’t act as though it were.
The wedding was a done deal, though. We’d gone through the steps of the ceremony. We were married in the eyes of our families, the church, and the world.
My new husband hadn’t said a word to me except the traditional words of his vows, and he wouldn’t stop staring at me.
I tried to convince myself I hadn’t made a huge mistake as Edward and I walked into the ballroom where we were having the wedding reception.
There would be mingling and cocktails for an hour or so, and then there would be an elegant dinner. I knew from experience that it would be almost midnight before I could get out of this room.
Edward was holding my hand. Obviously, it was just for show, since we were supposed to be happily married, but his warm clasp felt strange, intimate.
I couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel to have sex with him.
That wasn’t a particularly wise avenue of thought for facing a room of full of well-wishers, so I pushed it out of my head and pasted on my social smile.
I’d always been more naturally social than my sisters. My younger sister, Lisette, was very shy, and our mother had only recently trusted her to attend large social functions at all. Amalie was polished and practiced. She could handle any room. But she’d never really enjoyed it the way I did. I’d always been more like my brother, Henry, and took to socializing easily.
I didn’t enjoy the reception, though.
Edward was meticulously polite, but he barely managed the slightest of smiles the whole time, even for the best man’s amusing toast. And I started to get one of those heavy foreboding feelings—the kind you feel in the pit of your stomach.
I had told Amalie the truth earlier. I knew what I was getting into when I agreed to this marriage.
But suddenly the reality of it was catching up to me.
I was attached to this silent, unsmiling man beside me for the rest of my life.
So when the toasts were finally done and the wedding cake was eaten, I was feeling rather chilled and jittery. I noticed Amalie shooting me concerned looks, so I managed to maintain my smile, but I wasn’t sure if my deception would deceive her.
It didn’t deceive Bryce either.
Bryce had been my best friend when we were children. He was the eldest son of Villemont’s long-term Minister of Finance, and he was exactly my age, so we were always thrown together as we were growing up. He went off to boarding school and then university, so I hadn’t seen him as much in the last few years, but we still kept in touch.
I still loved him like a brother.
When people started mingling again after the wedding cake was eaten, I excused myself to the powder room, and Bryce caught me as I was returning.
“Are you regretting this already?” he asked softly, pulling me into a quiet corner where we could talk. He was tall, slim, blond, and quite adorable.
I shook my head. “Of course not. What do you mean?”
“I mean you look like a rabbit caught in a trap.”
“I look nothing of the kind.”
“You might fool everyone else, but you don’t fool me. Tell me the truth. Are you regretting it?”
I could put on a happy face for the world with the best of them, but I’d never been able to lie to the people close to me. My first instinct was always to be honest.
I was honest with Bryce now. “No. I don’t think I am. It just hit me that this is actually real—I’m actually married to that man.”
“You always said it would be fine because you could live separate lives. Don’t you believe that now?”
I gave a little shrug. “Yes. I believe it. I suppose.” I paused, trying to
process exactly how I was feeling so I could explain it. “But even if we live separate lives, we’re still… part of one another. I never realized that would be true before. I don’t even really know him.”
I glanced over toward where Edward as standing, talking to his father and my father. He had fine broad shoulders and an upright posture. In that tuxedo, he could have been a movie star at an awards event.
He wasn’t a movie star. He was my husband, and he was watching me.
He always seemed to be watching me—as if he didn’t trust me not to embarrass him.
I glanced away when our gazes met and turned back to Bryce.
“So get to know him,” Bryce said with a little smile. “Maybe he’s not as much of a snob as he seems.”
“I doubt that.”
“It’s worth a try, isn’t it? Talk to him. I bet it will be a lot easier to be married to him if you get to know him.”
Bryce was right. Of course he was right. I felt better at acknowledging this was true.
I had options. I didn’t have to stay married to a stranger.
I could get to know Edward. I could do something about it.
I could do this.
I was a Rothman, after all.
I gave Bryce a wide smile. “How did you get so smart?”
“I know something about making the best of hard situations.”
I heard the slightly ironic lilt of his tone and knew immediately what he was referring to.
Giving him a narrow-eyed look, I said very softly, “There’s something you can do about your hard situation too, you know.”
He shook his head with a slight eye-roll. “How is it you can turn every conversation in that direction.”
“I’m just talented, is all.” I made sure my tone was teasing so he wouldn’t think I was pressuring him in any way. “I just think you’d be happier if you’d tell your family the truth.”
“My family would not be happy if they knew the true. They’d be horrified. I’m not going to do that to them.”
“They love you. Maybe they wouldn’t react the way you think.”
