“We heard Estelle weeping. Valentin, what’s happened?”
“She told me about a bad dream,” he said to Adam, who had rushed to the bed while Valentin stepped back to give him room. “The laudanum, I think. I came here as soon as I heard from Mattie that Estelle was awake. She was asking for me, but Mattie’s been here all along—”
“Yes, my lord, I’ve been standing right inside the door!” she blurted, looking helplessly from Linette to Adam.
“It’s all right, Mattie, no one’s blaming anyone for anything,” Linette murmured as if to calm them all. She glanced reassuringly at Valentin as she drew closer to the bed, too. “We’ll stay with her until she falls asleep again, you don’t have to worry—”
“No, Valentin, don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me!” Estelle pleaded in so hushed a voice that she could have whispered. Yet already she had closed her eyes, her dark lashes spiked with moisture, her slender fingers that had clutched the covers visibly relaxing.
Valentin sighed heavily, wanting so desperately to stay with her but knowing that he could not. As if reading his mind, Adam turned to him and said quietly, “No more laudanum.”
He nodded, wanting to reach down and touch her cheek one last time, but not wanting to wake her. All he could do was pray that she felt better in the morning, her sedative-induced dream hopefully forgotten.
He doubted he would forget the heartbreaking anguish in her voice, though, as he left the room and made his way down the dimly lit hall.
Her words haunted him, strangely giving him a chill.
I was calling for you, crying out your name, but you weren’t there!
Why would she have dreamed such a terrible thing when in another day’s time, he would announce to his people that he had chosen her for his bride?
Valentin turned the corner, so lost in thought that he nearly ran into a footman who appeared to be checking a flickering lamp hung from an iron sconce.
“Forgive me, Your Highness. A good night to you.”
Valentin murmured the same, though he found it odd that a footman would be handling a task usually accomplished by a chambermaid.
Now that he thought of it, he could have sworn he’d spied the same fellow—dark curly hair, stocky build—in the entrance hall when Mattie had come running to find him, but he’d been in such a mad rush that he couldn’t be sure.
One thing he was sure of was how weary he felt after what had just occurred with Estelle, his coronation day fast approaching. Praying that she would be there to share with him one of the most important moments of his life, he forgot about the footman and continued on his way to his private apartment.
Please, Lord, may she feel well enough to attend. Truly, the occasion would not be as memorable without her.
Chapter 10
“It’s all so grand, Linette! So truly grand!”
As trumpets sounded from the entrance to the cathedral, Estelle twisted around in the pew, her rose-colored gown rustling, to see if she could catch a glimpse of Valentin.
The sudden movement made her flinch, but she didn’t care. The important thing was that she’d felt well enough to see him officially become the crowned prince of Bratavia, along with her sister, Adam, and hundreds of people who had packed the lofty church. Thank God she was there!
Anticipation rippled through the crowd at a second blast of trumpets. Estelle gasped when Valentin appeared in the narthex, looking so handsome and splendidly dressed. Everything about him—his blond hair shining in the afternoon sunlight streaming from the windows, the scarlet robe trimmed with ermine around his shoulders, and his gold brocade uniform—bespoke the splendor and responsibility of the title for which he would soon swear his coronation oath.
Estelle felt her heart leap when he spied her across the sea of onlookers all craning for a view, a brief smile touching his lips before he sobered again and looked straight ahead of him.
Then everyone rose and she couldn’t see him any longer from where she stood in the middle of the third pew on the right side of the cathedral. The front two pews were filled with members of Valentin’s privy council and their wives, other prominent dignitaries, and of course, Princess Hortense and her husband, the Baron of Toulouse.
Her exquisite satin gown also of gold, Valentin’s half-sister had barely acknowledged Estelle as she had come down the center aisle moments ago on Edward Bertrand’s arm, although her husband had inclined his head and given her a look that was almost sad.
Clearly he remembered her, which had surprised Estelle considering how much he’d drank when she had sat next to him at dinner. She’d done her best to be kind and gracious to him regardless, and had even made him smile a time or two with her stories about life in Cornwall, but always sadly like he’d done today. No wonder she felt sorry for him!
Especially when the poor man was married to such a haughty wife, Estelle a little stung that Princess Hortense had looked away when she’d glimpsed her in the pew. It was quite apparent that Valentin’s half-sister hadn’t softened her view of Estelle at all, but it was the smug smile on the woman’s face that she’d found so strange.
As if Princess Hortense were the proverbial cat that had swallowed the canary, Estelle feeling a cold shiver, which she’d nonetheless done her best to shrug off.
The trio of beauties who had come to Bratavia to vie for Valentin’s affection had also slighted her as they’d taken their seats in the same pew as Princess Hortense, none of them sparing her a glance. Yet she didn’t care, no, she didn’t care! She was so thrilled not to have missed this momentous occasion that no snubs or slights would dampen her excitement.
As majestic processional music swelled from the chamber orchestra in the balcony, Adam stood tall enough to look above the crowd and leaned toward Estelle to tell her what was happening.
“Valentin’s coming down the aisle…almost here…almost…now!”
Her heartbeat racing, Estelle bent forward so she could see him around the other guests filling the pew, and again, his subtle smile told her that he knew exactly where she was standing. Then he was gone from her view, but not for long as he walked up the steps toward the altar, where a gilt throne had been placed for the coronation. At once he was surrounded by clergymen dressed in splendid robes, the music swelling to a crescendo and then ending as everyone took their seats and the formal ceremony began.
Estelle watched, enthralled as the presiding archbishop administered the coronation oath. Valentin stood tall and proud, answering each question in a strong, sure voice that rang out for all to hear. A solemn blessing followed, after which he proceeded to the throne and sat down. An expectant hush fell over the cathedral when the archbishop first handed him a golden scepter and then placed a bejeweled crown upon his head.
“Long live our sovereign prince, Valentin Antoine Pierre Chevalier!”
Hundreds of voices echoed the archbishop’s pronouncement in a resounding response that exploded into cheers and applause. Her heart swelling with happiness for him, Estelle knew then just how deeply loved Valentin was by his people. To acknowledge them all, he swept his gaze from one side of the packed church to the other…until it came to rest upon her.
His steel blue eyes held hers for a breathless moment, Estelle hoping that he saw how much she loved him, too, shining in her eyes. Soon she and Valentin would become husband and wife at this very cathedral!
Something told her that he must be thinking the same thing as he inclined his head toward her, and then rose from the throne and stepped forward with the archbishop and clergymen assembling behind him. Fresh cheers erupted when the orchestra commenced a triumphant recessional, Valentin proceeding down the steps and into the center aisle as men and women bowed and curtsied to their newly crowned prince.
Estelle curtsied, too, as did Linette, while Adam bowed his head, so she didn’t see Valentin as he passed by them, though she felt the warmth of his presence as if he stood right next to her.
A blush firing her cheeks, she couldn�
��t believe the unforgettable ceremony was already done, but she imagined celebrations throughout Bratavia would continue into the night. The great entrance doors were no sooner thrown open than a deafening roar went up from the throngs of well-wishers gathered outside, the cathedral not large enough to hold everyone.
“How the people love him!” Linette said to Estelle, raising her voice to be heard. Then she drew closer to murmur into her ear, “Just as they’ll love you, dearest sister.”
Linette’s words thrilling her, Estelle could not stop smiling, nor did she wish to.
She had never felt so happy and there was still the ball to attend. Though she hurt a little, sleeping through the past few days had done wonders for her and she felt nearly as good as new. She couldn’t wait to dance with Valentin!
“There she goes…the queen bee and her minions,” Adam observed, thankfully only loud enough for Estelle and Linette to hear.
Estelle wasn’t surprised that Princess Hortense didn’t spare her a glance as she went down the aisle with the baron, and neither did Princess Ophelia, Lady Ingrid, or Countess Alicia, who all flounced past her in their richly hued gowns.
Yet Estelle didn’t care! She would allow nothing to steal the joy she felt about Valentin and the future they would share together. Nothing!
***
“Where is she? Robert, do you see them?”
Valentin had hissed over his shoulder to his valet, who stood behind him in case he needed anything as he accepted congratulations from his guests. Thankfully the receiving line that had wound the full length of the ballroom had grown much shorter, but that had only made Estelle and the Linleys’ absence all the more worrisome to him.
“Not yet, my lord. Shall I go see if anything is amiss?”
His breath stilling at the thought, Valentin nonetheless shook his head. “Let’s give them another few minutes.”
“I’m sure it’s no more than an innocent delay,” Robert said in a discreet whisper as if to reassure him. “Miss Easton looked quite well at your coronation.”
Well? Valentin had never seen Estelle look more beautiful, the radiant blush on her face matching the pink rosebud color of her gown. Nothing could have made the day more perfect than seeing her as soon as he entered the narthex, Robert having informed him that she and the Viscount and Viscountess Linley had arrived at the cathedral some time earlier.
He hadn’t been sure until that moment that Estelle would attend at all after visiting her last night, no matter the determination she’d displayed. Now he couldn’t wait to hold her in his arms and dance with her at the ball…and only her.
He had already decided that Estelle would be his sole partner this evening, Hortense and her misguided plans to have some influence over whom he married be damned. He was done pretending. Done with the charade!
He had already found some satisfaction when he had quietly told his half-sister that there was no need for her to join him in the receiving line. Two high spots of color had appeared on her cheeks so suddenly that he thought she might be having a fit, but somehow she maintained her composure, curtsied to him, and walked away without saying a word.
More satisfaction had come when he’d given only a curt greeting to the three noblewomen who had plagued him since the moment they had arrived at the castle. Their painted fans had beat the air as they didn’t even attempt to hide their outrage.
Like a gaggle of indignant hens, Alicia, Ophelia, and Ingrid had hastened over to where Hortense had taken a seat at a white-clothed table and joined her, while Edward waved for another glass of champagne.
Poor bastard. Valentin had never felt much sympathy for the man, but he did tonight, unable to imagine enduring two years of house arrest with such a wife.
He had decided, too, not to trouble Edward with an inquiry into how he and Hortense had escaped worse treatment by his uncle, reckoning that the baron had suffered punishment enough.
Valentin had felt the solemn weight of power the moment the glittering crown of Bratavia had been placed upon his head, and he had no intention of abusing it. His privy council was always there to balance that power with reasoned discussion, and the authority to overrule him as well-established law decreed.
Yet he would no longer allow anyone to think he could be swayed by caprice or emotional outburst, a glance in Hortense’s direction steeling his resolve.
She stared stonily back at him, clearly having trouble adjusting to a half-brother who would no longer tolerate her inflated sense of entitlement or her meddling in his affairs…especially when it came to Estelle.
“She’s here, my lord.”
Valentin at once excused himself from the receiving line that had dwindled to a few last guests, his heart pounding as he made his way toward the entrance where Estelle stood with Adam and Linette.
He could not tear his eyes from her. No longer was she dressed in rosebud pink with her upswept hair loosely framing her face…but a gown of silvery satin that sheathed her lithe body like a Grecian goddess, her lustrous auburn hair arranged in an elegant chignon entwined with silver ribbon.
A hush had fallen over the ballroom, even the orchestra musicians staying their instruments, while Valentin found it difficult to breathe in the presence of such beauty.
Truly, she looked like a princess.
His beloved princess.
“Your Serene Highness,” she murmured in greeting, her voice as soft as a whisper.
Valentin watched, entranced, as she curtsied gracefully, her simple acknowledgement of the royal title he now held touching him more than he could say. When she rose to face him, her eyes shone with such love that he felt more humbly blessed than he could have ever imagined possible.
He extended his arm to her and she placed her white-gloved hand in his, Valentin deciding then and there that he would not wait until morning to speak with his privy council.
He would announce his choice for a bride that very night in front of his assembled guests. He wasn’t surprised that Adam, as if reading his mind and in full agreement, nodded and then reached as well for his wife’s hand.
Valentin bowed his head gallantly to Estelle. “May I have the honor of this dance, Miss Easton?” In answer, she gifted him with a smile so brilliant that once again, he found it hard to draw a breath or even to move.
Until Estelle’s gentle squeeze of his fingers seemed to break the spell that had rooted his feet to the floor. As he drew her into the center of the ballroom, the chamber orchestra struck up a waltz that seemed to awaken everyone from the same spell, excited conversation rippling across the immense room.
Yet his guests could have been shouting their approval for all he noticed as Valentin focused solely upon drawing Estelle into his arms.
His hand upon the curve of her waist.
Her hand upon his shoulder while she reached down with the other to gather up the folds of her gown.
The music swelling as they began to dance, Valentin feeling certain that this moment, which he’d hoped for, prayed for, survived for, was the most precious gift heaven could have bestowed.
Estelle, so stunningly beautiful, staring into his eyes and he, into hers, all else but the two of them falling away as he took care to spin her gently for fear that she might still suffer some pain.
“I’m fine, Valentin, truly,” she murmured, reading his concern without him speaking a single word. She smiled up at him with such faith, such trust, such love…
He could not wait another moment, certain that he would burst from long pent-up emotion if he didn’t announce at once that Estelle was the woman he intended to marry.
Gradually, he slowed them to a halt at the very heart of the room as once more, the musicians stilled their playing.
All eyes were focused upon them, Estelle’s widened gaze fixed upon his face as Valentin raised his voice so all could hear.
“Citizens of Bratavia, on this night of my coronation, I proclaim to all of you that I have asked Miss Estelle Easton to become my wife and she
has happily agreed!”
Chapter 11
Estelle stared in astonishment at Valentin, utterly overcome with joy.
She hadn’t expected this at all…never imagining he would announce tonight that she would become his bride! In front of everyone he raised her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers so tenderly, his gaze fixed upon her face. Then he smiled, a sweet boyish smile that went straight to her heart for how truly happy he looked—
“Stop! That is impossible!”
Estelle froze at the collective gasp that erupted in the ballroom while Valentin’s expression was truly ominous to behold as Princess Hortense rose from her chair.
“You cannot marry that girl, Valentin, and if you doubt me, ask your privy council!”
He didn’t move, didn’t say a word, though he looked darkly around the ballroom as if seeking out the seven men who that very afternoon had attended his coronation. One by one the members of his privy council began to stand, several with clear reluctance, while Estelle felt the tension rising in Valentin as he held fast to her fingers.
Still he said nothing, the bearded gentleman who appeared to be the most senior member of his council stepping forward as if he meant to speak for all of them.
“Forgive me, Your Highness, but it is true. There is an impediment—”
“Impediment?”
Valentin’s voice filled with barely controlled anger, Estelle was struck by a horrible sinking feeling as the man nodded, clearly uncomfortable from how he glanced at the others. Yet then he seemed to square his shoulders as if he knew he must press forward with a very unpleasant task.
“Yes, Your Highness, though I think it best we adjourn to another room to discuss this matter privately—”
My Fugitive Prince Page 8
