by Peak, Renna
We walk in silence for a long moment before I begin to speak. “Clara, I really don’t understand why I must share this with you, but if it will help you to leave it be—”
“It will,” she interrupts. “I know you don’t want to—I know how hard it is for you, Nick. I really do.” She bites her lip and looks up at me. “But things would make so much more sense to me—”
“We were…I suppose you would call it dating. She and I. Sara and I. We’d known each other since we were children. We saw each other every summer from the time we were young.”
“She’s from here. From Wintervale.” Clara nods to herself.
“Yes. It’s why we never should have come here.” Even as I say the words, I regret them. “That is to say, I knew she loved her new husband. And I suppose I should have known she would have had her child as well.”
“You didn’t really have a choice.” She gives me a weak smile. “Your father wanted you to come. He doesn’t seem like the type to respond to an argument, no matter how good the reason was you didn’t want to be here.”
“Precisely.” Though, I suppose that isn’t true, either. I could very well have insisted that Andrew come to Wintervale—he’s much more experienced in diplomatic matters.
“So you were close with her. You grew up with her.” She nods to herself again. “I didn’t meet Adam until after I got the job at the ad agency. I can’t imagine how much worse things would have been if we’d known each other our whole lives.”
“It isn’t the same, Clara.” I have no idea how to explain this to her—I’m not certain I still understand it myself. “We were…close. Friends for many years. She was…” I let out a long breath. I’m not sure how to say this without sounding like a ridiculous, sentimental fool. “She was the only woman I ever loved before you.”
Clara is silent for a long time. “I…see.”
My insides begin to knot again. I don’t think I’ve ever admitted any of this out loud—my cousins know. Probably half of Wintervale knows what happened, but it isn’t something that was ever made public. I suppose I didn’t realize quite how humiliating it all is until this moment—until I started to tell Clara of the sordid details.
“I hadn’t seen her. I…I was away for my military training for over a year. But we kept in touch—I wrote her often. She wrote me…” My voice begins to break, and I’m not sure how I can continue.
“It’s hard. Long distance relationships. I mean, Adam was always gone, off on business trips to Europe and Asia, leaving me alone.”
“When I returned…” My stomach clenches and I feel as though I might wretch again. “When I returned from my military service, I couldn’t wait to see her. I…” I shake my head. I can’t believe I’m sharing this with her—it still feels too raw, too new, even though it has been well over a year since the events occurred.
“Nick…” She squeezes my hand. “I get it now. You don’t—”
I close my eyes for a moment at the memory—it is all still too humiliating. “She didn’t choose me. She…” I let out another long breath, trying to calm my queasy stomach. “She didn’t love me. She said she never did.”
Clara
For once, I don’t know what to say.
It absolutely baffles me that any woman could have Nick’s love and throw it away. But I guess I’m not one to talk—there’s probably a woman out there who would say the same thing about Adam. I had his love and threw it away, and even though I believe it was the best thing for both of us, how long will it be before Adam sees that?
That’s what I don’t understand. I sneak at glance at Nick as we walk down the path. Sara dumping Nick was for the best, too—he and I wouldn’t have met each other otherwise. But he doesn’t seem to see it that way. He’s still full of regret and pain. Maybe what he and I have between us isn’t enough for him to believe that everything has worked out as it should.
It’s a sobering thought, especially considering I dropped everything to follow him here to Montovia. I always assumed that I was the broken one in this relationship, but I guess I didn’t know Nick as well as I thought.
Our walk back to Wintervale Manor is painfully long and quiet. I tend to get antsy when I don’t know how to talk my way out of—or at least through—something, and today is no exception. Nick, as usual, is stoic and silent, as if he thinks all problems can be solved through brooding.
Eventually, though, I see the giant manor house up again, and my stomach fills with relief. Maybe I’ll see if one of the stable hands can saddle a horse for me. If I’m clinging terrified to the back of a horse, I can’t be driving myself crazy with thoughts of Nick and Sara.
Nick beats me to it, though. As we approach the manor, he says, “I’m going for a ride. I’ll see you at dinner.” And then he marches off across the grounds without a glance back at me.
I guess I’m not the only one who finds solace on the back of a horse, and frankly, Nick is far less likely to break his neck in the process. Either way, I can’t exactly follow him.
As he disappears in the direction of the stables, I glance toward the manor. I should probably just go inside, but honestly, I don’t want to run into Nick’s cousins. They mean well, but for once, I’m not in the mood for their meddling. I wonder briefly if any of them has discovered the snake in their bed yet, but sadly, that prank doesn’t seem nearly as amusing without Nick here to enjoy it with me.
Instead, I end up wandering in the gardens. I have to admit that there’s a certain peacefulness to walking around among all the beautiful flowers—though not quite enough to keep my heart from sinking when I see Nick riding away toward the lake in the distance—and slowly, little by little, I start to feel like myself again.
Who’d have thought I’d ever get this mixed up over a guy? And not just any guy—a prince! Only a few months ago, I could hardly muster up any real emotions for my perfect-on-paper fiancé. Now I’m the girl who can’t even keep her head on straight around a guy she’s known less than two months. Life sure wanted to teach me a lesson, didn’t it?
I notice movement out of the corner of my eye, and I realize Benedict has come outside and is heading purposefully in my direction. I still wish I had a little more time to myself, but maybe it’s better for everyone if I don’t wallow in my moodiness. A relationship can only handle one person like that.
As he nears me, Benedict flashes his charming smile. He’s really quite handsome, and I have no doubt he’s broken many hearts in his day—and will probably break many more before he finds the woman who knocks him right on his ass.
“Lovely Clara,” he says, taking my hand and bowing over it as usual. “I’m glad to see you made it back safely. I hope things weren’t too awkward for you.” There’s an unspoken question in his words, punctuated by the arch of his brow, and I simply shrug.
“We didn’t speak to her, if that’s what you’re asking. Nick did explain a little more of the situation, though.”
I’m not sure how much my face is revealing, but Benedict’s eyes are suddenly full of sympathy.
“Men are fools, are we not?” he says with a smile. “And ninety-nine percent of the time, it’s because we don’t know a damn thing about how to deal with women.” His grin widens. “Some of us are better than others, though. Some men never learn.”
He’s got that right. I glance toward the trees where Nick disappeared on horseback, then turn back toward Benedict.
“Some women never learn, either,” I confess.
“Yes, and that’s what makes all of this so fun, isn’t it?” Benedict certainly looks like he’s enjoying himself. “My personal philosophy has always been to not take these things so seriously. It works out better for everyone in the end.” He offers his arm. “Care for a stroll? I don’t think anyone has shown you the spring gardens yet. Most of the flowers are gone, but everything is still green and lush well through the summer.”
I’m considering taking him up on his offer—just to get out of my own head for a little whil
e—when I hear a car approaching.
Benedict notices it, too. He turns toward the road, his smile dropping slightly.
“What is it?” I ask. Or rather, who?
“My father isn’t supposed to return for another two days.” Weirdly, Benedict looks almost troubled by this early arrival.
He begins striding toward the front of the manor, and since my arm is already through his, I’m dragged along, jogging to keep up. By the time we reach the front of the manor, the car has parked, and a number of people—including Benedict’s mother and brothers—have spilled out of the front doors and onto the steps.
And Benedict is still frowning.
“What’s wrong?” I ask him. Shouldn’t he be happy about his father’s return?
“If Father’s back early from his hunting trip, that means he’s been arguing with Uncle Alex again. And if he’s been arguing with Uncle Alex, then he’s going to be in a bad mood.” His brow wrinkles. “Our father isn’t particularly known for his charm or friendliness. Especially toward a certain branch of the family.” He gives me a pointed look.
“Oh,” I say, starting to understand.
Benedict misreads my concern. “Don’t worry—just be your usual effervescent self and you’ll do just fine. He has a soft spot for pretty women. My dear cousin, on the other hand, is going to have his work cut out for him.” He shakes his head. “We actually had everything planned for two days from now, a few things to soften him up a little before presenting Nicholas to him. We’ve learned a few tricks over the years. But if he’s back early…God help us all.”
“Is there anything we can do?” I ask, throwing another glance back toward the trees where Nick disappeared.
Benedict shakes his head. “The only thing we can do is hunker down and prepare for World War Three.”
Nicholas
My ride does little to quell my concerns. I have no idea how to prove to Clara that I’m no longer in love with Sara.
I just can’t comprehend why Clara cannot understand why it still hurts to think about it—betrayal is an ugly thing, not easily forgiven. Shouldn’t it be enough that I’ve professed my love to her? What else can I do to prove that I no longer love Sara?
I mean to ask Clara just that—she seems to have ideas about how things should work in relationships. If there is something specific she needs from me—some way to prove my devotion to only her—perhaps she can share that with me. It’s frustrating that I must ask her such a thing at all, but I don’t want to give up just yet. Shouldn’t that be enough proof in itself?
After I’ve ridden the poor horse to nearly the point of exhaustion, I make my way back for the stables. Instead of being greeted by one of the stable hands, my cousin Benedict is waiting for me.
I dismount my horse, leading it back to its stall as I warily eye my cousin who is rushing up to me. Something must have happened—while I have a congenial relationship with my cousins, they aren’t usually so concerned with my whereabouts that they’d meet me at the end of a ride.
“Cousin!” Benedict gives me a smile he usually reserves for the women in his life. “How was your ride?”
My gaze narrows instinctively. “Adequate.”
“Only adequate?” His smile widens. “I’ll speak to the stable manager about giving you a faster horse—”
“What do you want, Benedict?”
“Nothing…nothing at all.” He pats my horse before turning back to me. “I was wondering, would you care to have supper in the town tonight? There’s a lovely new Italian restaurant that has a private room. You and your betrothed could share a romantic meal instead of having to endure another torturous family dinner.”
My gaze narrows even further. It isn’t as though my cousins have seemed at all concerned about my relationship with Clara—if anything, they’ve tried to get under my skin about it. Part of me knows none of them would actually do anything—they flirt with every woman they meet, but deep down, I know they would never try to come between Clara and me.
But there’s something not right about this particular offer. The Wintervale Manor is run in a similar fashion as the palace—the family is expected to eat dinner together each night unless there are extenuating circumstances. To miss a meal is considered the ultimate slight against the family.
“What is this about, Benedict? Have I insulted you in some way?” I lift a brow.
“Not at all.” He grins. “Though, I’ll say you are in need of a bath before your supper. To arrive at dinner in this condition…” He laughs. “I jest, of course. Though, honestly—”
“I’ll shower as soon as I’m back in my suite.” I cock my head. “You’re trying to keep me from dinner tonight. Why?” I may as well get to the point—there’s no sense in trying to play nice about whatever it is that’s going on.
“No, no. Not at all. It’s only that Clara seems out of sorts today. I’ve spent the afternoon with her—”
“Is that supposed to upset me, Cousin?” I glare at him for a moment. “Do you have intentions toward my betrothed?” Even as I say the word betrothed, my back bristles. Clara and I aren’t betrothed—we never were and likely never will be. She’s rebuffed my every attempt, still not believing me capable of loving her. Perhaps it would be better if one of my cousins were to make a play for her. It might afford me the opportunity to give her the proof she needs from me to believe my true feelings for her.
You’re an idiot, that small voice in my head whispers. You should not have to prove anything to her. She should believe your words—you’ve never given her reason to doubt them.
Still, I have no idea what to believe any longer. Clara seems unable—or more likely, unwilling—to believe anything I say. I’m not sure what more I can do.
Benedict lets out a long breath. “Your betrothed is lovely, both in looks and charm. But no, Cousin, I have no intentions toward her.” He seems almost irritated that I’ve asked. “I hope she can consider me—and my brothers—friends. Considering you left her upset this afternoon—”
“Perhaps you don’t know the entire story, Cousin. Perhaps you aren’t aware that she left me quite upset as well. I—”
“I’m sorry you’re having difficulties in your relationship, Nicholas. Truly, I am. Though that has little to do with my request.” His face turns ruddy, as though he’s realized he’s said something he shouldn’t have. “I…I merely wanted to know if you would consider having a special meal with her tonight.”
“Though our relationship has nothing to do with your request?” I cock my head. “What is this about? You don’t want her at dinner?” I pause, studying his expression.
He presses his lips into a phony smile. “Cousin, we would never be so rude as to suggest—”
“Lord Frederick has returned, hasn’t he?” I wait for him to respond, but he only continues to give me the same blank expression.
I’m still not entirely certain why our families don’t get along well. My cousins seem to get along well enough with my brothers and me, but our fathers… They never have seen eye to eye, particularly on the running of Wintervale itself. It’s why I was sent here, though nothing I’ve witnessed—either here at the manor or in the town itself—has been shocking in any way. There doesn’t seem to be the unrest here that those in the capital seem to think there is. It’s possible that the citizens are only putting on a show because of my presence, but it seems unlikely.
Something strange is going on, and I am determined to find out what it is.
My cousin still has not responded, so I continue. “You can let your father know that I’ll be attending the family dinner tonight.”
He gives me a weak smile. “Cousin, I beg of you—”
“There’s no need to beg, Benedict. You may let Caspar know of my decision. And since you’ve grown so close, you may also let Clara know that her presence is requested at my side this evening.”
Clara
I’m still not sure how I ended up in this mess.
I’m just a gir
l from New York. Less than two months ago I ran away from my wedding and ended up in Montana. Now I’m somehow in the middle of Montovia’s royal family drama.. This is not how I expected my new life to unfold. And I have no clue what I’m supposed to be doing.
I twist, studying myself in my room’s full-length mirror. I was told that my presence was “required” at dinner tonight, and that I should appear in “formal dress.” One of the servants was kind enough to help me pick something appropriate from among the clothes that Sophia loaned me, but now I’m wondering if I might have been better off picking something myself and feigning ignorance when I ended up being underdressed. This gown is so stiff I can’t even raise my arms. The fabric is so crisp that it rustles loudly whenever I move. The high collar is doing me absolutely no favors, and the rigid bodice ensures that I won’t be eating much tonight.
I sigh. At least I look slightly regal. But I can’t believe people wear crap like this to dinner on a regular basis. Being a royal isn’t as exciting or glamorous as I thought. My fingers skim across the skirt. Stiff or not, it’s the only thing I have to wear.
Maybe I can lock my door and pretend I’m sick, I think. Honestly, would anyone care? I’m just some random American girl. I’m not important at all. My presence means nothing. And honestly, I’m terrified by what Benedict has told me about Lord Frederick.
But Nick will be there, I remind myself. And he might need some moral support. Even if I don’t exactly feel like giving him any right now. It’s been three hours since Benedict, Caspar, and Xavier’s father arrived and Nick hasn’t stopped by my room or anything. How much space does a man need, even one given to brooding?
There’s a soft knock on my door. My heart leaps, and I stride over, my skirt swishing loudly the whole way.
But it’s not Nick come to fetch me. It’s a servant.
“Good evening, Miss,” he says with a shallow bow. “I’m here to accompany you to the dining room.”
