“And then, Clementine?”
“I - might have - well, no: I did - sort of - throw a cushion at him … well, two if I’m being factually correct.” Then, as her father’s eyebrows shot up, she added hastily, “Oh, not at the same time, Papa!”
The King laid down his knife and fork. “Did Mr Thackeray lose his temper so much you feared for your safety, daughter?” he asked.
“No, of course not!”
“Then I am at a loss to understand what would make you launch not one but two cushions at a man who had kindly agreed to tutor you.”
As she continued to chew her bottom lip, Clementine noticed both her aunt and her cousin observing the exchange with close interest. Lady Motley seemed to be taking great delight in the discomfort of her niece. Clementine’s face reddened.
“We disagreed about my need to learn … thingies.”
“Thingies?” her father asked with apparent interest.
“Yes, Papa.” She riffled through her memory, trying to remember what ‘thingies’ she had been learning. “You know, stuff about the sea; the sky; using numbers to do other stuff and theories of whatsits.”
The King sighed. “This is what you have learned?” he asked blandly and Clementine smiled and nodded.” Then, quite frankly, daughter, I think it should have been Gilbert Thackeray who threw the cushions at you!”
“Papa!” Clementine muttered as the servants began clearing their plates.
“Don’t you ‘Papa’ me, Clementine!” the King bellowed. “I gave you a gift! I gave you the chance to learn and expand your mind and you have learned nothing!”
Deflated by her father’s censure, Clementine sighed. It seemed dreadfully unfair that he should be cross with her when it was Mr Thackeray who had started it by mocking Sir Hugo and calling her a silly girl. Silly girl indeed!
“Why do you insist on her doing these lessons, Marcus?”Lady Motley cut in. “It’s not as though she is likely to make use of them.”
“Gaining knowledge in any one subject might not necessarily be useful, Charlotte, but learning about many subjects and expanding one’s mind is. It is that breadth of knowledge I want for my daughter.”
“Well I certainly would not allow Evangeline to expand her mind. Men do not like clever women.” Lady Motley addressed Clementine: “It won’t matter how clever or pretty you may or may not be though, dear. You are, after all, a Princess.”
The entire tone of the conversation was making Clementine feel utterly wretched. She had let down her father; been rude to Mr Thackeray; and now her aunt seemed to think being a Princess was all that would ever matter to a man anyway. Surely that wasn’t all the Duke saw in her?
As though reading her mind, Evangeline spoke up. “Sir Hugo was here today, Uncle Marcus, and he put on a marvellous display of horsemanship!” The King rolled his eyes. “Yes, I saw him pratting around in the courtyard.”
“Papa! I thought you liked Sir Hugo.”
“I don’t dislike him. I just think he’s a bit of a pillock,” the King said and put an end to the discussion by rising. He waved away the footman who had hurried over to assist him and glared down at his daughter. “Clementine, I shall expect you to apologise to Mr Thackeray.”
“Of course, Papa.”
“Ladies,” the King said and bowed to them before leaving.
“Oh dear,” Evangeline said sadly. “Do you think Uncle Marcus will deny Sir Hugo the opportunity to ask for your hand, Clemmie?”
“Of course he won’t, Evie.” Clementine forced a bright smile for the sake of her cousin and aunt. “Papa cares only that I am happy.”
At least, she hoped that was the case.
As the three ladies retired to the drawing room, their thoughts all turned in a similar direction. Only Clementine, however, included Mr Gilbert Thackeray in her contemplations.
Chapter Three
Clementine put her book down and paced the drawing room. She had hoped Sir Hugo would have come by now. She had been sure he would at least have wanted to speak with her father about the possibility of marriage. Of course, she knew that would only be the beginning. As well as the usual formalities and negotiations, there was also her welfare to consider. The King would need to agree the precautions which would be taken to keep her safe and to understand what plans the Duke intended for her future care.
They were embarrassing - and horrifically unromantic - but they were part and parcel of Clementine’s life. They were something those who envied her always failed to consider. It was also something that might cause Sir Hugo to reconsider offering for her hand.
A tap at the door was followed by Meekers. The elderly footman had been given the job of waylaying Mr Thackeray upon arrival for his monthly meeting with her father.
“I have him, your Highness,” he said. “What shall I do with him?”
Clemtine stifled a giggle that threatened to overwhelm her. The footman made Gilbert Thackeray sound like a prisoner. “Send him in please, Meekers,” she said.
Mr Thackerey entered and the footman bowed and left the room, banging the door noisily behind him. “Well, that’s a relief,” Gilbert said, bowing to Clementine. “I thought I was going to be marched down to the dungeons and flogged.”
“Oh we don’t use them for flogging any more, Mr Thackeray. The stairs are too steep for poor old Meekers’ knees. We tend to do all the flogging in the courtyard - unless it’s raining of course.”
“Very sensible,” Gilbert nodded sagely. “Nothing worse then a flogging in the rain.”
Clementine smiled. She enjoyed her tutor’s company. She glanced at his hair, noting regretfully that it was neatly combed today. She preferred it messy: assault by cushion had rather suited Gilbert Thackeray. She felt a twinge of regret at having ended their lessons; she would miss his diverting commentary and droll retorts.
“You are here to see Father?” she asked, waving a hand at the books he carried.
“Yes. I can only hope the venerable Meekers remembers to inform his Highness that I have indeed arrived.”
“Oh, I doubt it,” Clementine told him seriously. “I suspect Papa is even now calling for your head.”
Gilbert raised a quizzical eyebrow. “Well then, I can only hope that, before I meet my untimely end, I shall find out why it is you waylaid me.”
“Yes, of course.” Clementine crossed to the mantelpiece, more to give herself time to consider her words than anything else. Gilbert Thackeray stood tall and dark against the pretty yellow of the drawing room, his countenance serious and grim.
“I wanted to apologise, Mr Thackeray,” she said remorsefully. “I behaved appallingly towards you. It was very wrong. No: worse! It was inexcusable of me.” Gilbert remained silent. Flustered, Clementine threw her hands up in the air. “Quite simply, I should not have thrown that cushion at you!” she exclaimed nervously.
“Actually, it was two,” Gilbert reminded her impassively.
“Yes. Of course,” Clementine said. She had the feeling Mr Thackeray was enjoying her discomfort. “Well, however many it was, it was terribly wrong of me.” She waited for a response from Gilbert. He stared at her expectantly.
“Oh! Was that it?” he asked and rubbed his hand across his chin. “You know, technically, that wasn’t an apology.”
“It wasn’t?”
“No,” he said, noting how her eyes had widened in anticipation of his reply. He shook his head, confounded by his wish to return her smile. “An apology, Your Highness, usually includes the word ‘sorry’.”
“Oh! Yes! Of course!” she cried. Her smile vanished. “Mr Thackeray, I am indeed dreadfully sorry for my rudeness.” She glanced up, her eyes appealing for understanding. “Can you forgive me?”
“I dare say I can,” Gilbert replied in an off-hand manner. “Now, if that is all, your Father is waiting,”
“Yes, Mr Thackeray. That was all.”
“Then I shall wish you a good day, Princess Clementine.�
�� He bowed and made to leave and Clementine felt a moment of inexplicable panic that this might be the last time she saw him.
“Mr Thackeray!” she cried.
“Your Highness?”
“I - I hope we can still be friends?”
“Friends?” Gilbert smiled sardonically. “I had no idea we were friends, Princess?”
“But of course we are!” she told him fiercely. “Why, I even considered continuing with our lessons.”
Gilbert looked horrified. “Good heavens! I can only hope you reconsidered!” he retorted. Clementine frowned.
“As it happens, Mr Thackeray, I did,” she said, pretending not to see his look of relief. “I have such a lot of things to occupy me at the moment that I simply don’t have the time for lessons.”
“Well, I’m sure that’s for the best then. Now, I had best keep my appointment with your father.”
“Do not let me detain you. What topic has Papa expressed an interest in this time, Mr Thackeray?”
He gave her an inscrutable look and Clementine held herself still, resisting the urge to squirm under his intent gaze. “Mathematical philosophy,” he replied. “Perhaps you would enjoy a lively discussion on the nature and methodology of mathematics, Princess?”
Clementine wrinkled her nose. “I think I shall pass on this occasion, Mr Thackeray,” she said airily, ignoring the fact that he was teasing her. “Perhaps next time?”
“Indeed.” Gilbert looked away, breaking the spell. “Good day once again, Princess.”
Clementine stared after him. She wondered why she felt so oddly bereft at his leaving.. She shook her head and smiled. “Foolish creature!” she chastised herself. Mr Thackeray was a regular visitor to the Palace, whether he tutored her or not, so it was ridiculous to worry that she would never see him again or even to think that it mattered anyway. She would be marrying soon. Why should she care if she saw him again or not?
Ignoring a sudden shiver of foreboding, Clementine reached for her book.
“Ah ha!”
Clementine crowed in delight. “I thought I might find you hiding away in here,” she said as she entered her father’s study.
“Good heavens, daughter! Do you ever knock?” the King growled good naturedly. “I fear I have lost any hope of instilling manners in you.”
“I’m afraid so,” Clementine said, kissing her father on the cheek. “I’m far too old for you to fix now.”
The King sat behind his huge oak desk. A candle was burning next to him. “I swear Gilbert Thackeray is trying to make my poor head explode,” he said. Wearily, he closed the book he had been reading. Clementine peered over his shoulder, read the title and grimaced.
“And you wonder why I threw a cushion at him!”
Marcus glared at his daughter. “Do I need to ask Agnes to put you over her knee?”
Clementine chuckled. “Poor old Nursie complains when she has to vacate a comfy chair. I don’t think she’ll be too happy about giving me a walloping,” she said. She lit a taper from the candle on her father’s desk and went around the room to light the lamps.
The King understood his daughter well enough to know she had something on her mind. “Stop buzzing around and tell me what’s going on,” he told her, smiling when she turned and looked at him all wide-eyed innocence. “And don’t bother giving me that look, daughter.”
“Very well.” Clementine sat in a chair opposite her father. “I had a missive from, Sir Hugo,” she said, taking it out to show him. “He asks for my permission to speak with you,” she said happily. “I think he means to ask for my hand!”
The King took the missive with a long drawn-out sigh of dread. He hated to deny his daughter anything but he would not have her married to that fool of a Duke. “He’ll have to wait I’m afraid, Lemmy,” he said now, using Clementine’s childhood name. He rubbed his tired eyes. It was, he knew, a cowardly way to avoid his daughter’s disappointed look. “I shall be away for several days, ” he said. “I shall endeavour to speak with him on my return.”
“As you will, Papa.” Clementine said sombrely. “I shall wish you good night then.”
She left without ceremony or her usual enthusiastic cheer and entreaties for her father not to stay up too late. The King watched the door close and sighed again. He knew he was putting off the inevitable but he was grateful that he had at least an extra three days to think of a gentle way to tell his daughter she would marry that dunderhead of a Duke over his dead body.
“His Grace, the Duke of Glossop.”
Lady Motley, Princess Clementine and her cousin, Evangeline, rose to greet their visitor. “Sir Hugo,” Lady Motley cooed. “What a delightful surprise!”
Sir Hugo bowed. “My apologies, Ladies: I had hoped to speak with King Marcus but I have been informed he is gone.”
“Yes, Papa had business to attend to but will be back in a few days,” Clementine told him. She had found it strange her father had mentioned nothing of his going away until she had informed him of the Duke’s pending visit but he was often called away so she ought not to look on it suspiciously.
“Well, let the visit not be wasted,” the Duke boomed good-naturedly. “How about I take you lovely ladies out in my new Chaise? It’s big enough for the four of us and I dare say we can rustle up a picnic too!”
Clementine’s spirits slumped. The idea of venturing into the countryside sounded so inviting. How she would love to go on a proper outing! Before she had time to make her excuses, her aunt was already gently chastising the Duke.
“Goodness, Sir Hugo!” she trilled. “Have you forgotten Princess Clementine’s special requirements so soon?”
Sir Hugo slapped his palm to his head. “Princess! My apologies, I should have thought!”
Clementine cringed. She hated the need to remind him of complications associated with her condition. “Really, Hugo, you mustn’t let me ruin such a grand plan,” she said brightly. “The three of you should go, its too lovely a day to waste.”
“I won’t hear of it!” The Duke of Glossop looked around, as though seeking answers from the drawing room itself. “Perhaps we could have a picnic here?”
“We could certainly picnic outside, couldn’t we, Clementine?” Evangeline suggested. “The garden is free from all thorns.”
“That’s a wonderful idea, Evie!” Clementine cried, grateful - as always - to her cousin for thinking of her.
“Then it’s settled. We shall take ourselves off to the gardens with a picnic and perhaps a book of poetry.” Sir Hugo glanced at Clementine. “I think the choice of reading matter should be yours, Princess Clementine, though I must insist it be something that speaks to my romantic soul.”
Clementine laughed. “I know just the book!” Even though they planned on going no further than the garden, the day suddenly seemed filled with adventure. What a joy it was to have Hugo around. She hurried to the library.
“Shall we take a turn around the garden?” Clementine asked, clambering up from the blanket.
“Yes, I could do with a stretch.” Evangeline turned to her mother. “Will you join us, Mother?”
“No, you girls go and have a stroll. I’m sure Sir Hugo will not mind keeping me company,” Lady Motley replied from her position in the lawn chair. She had eschewed sitting on the blanket in favour of what she called ‘proper garden furniture’.
“I should be delighted, my Lady,” the Duke said gallantly and waved the young ladies off. Lady Motley observed the way he watched them as they walked away. “They make a handsome pair, do they not, Sir Hugo?”
“They do indeed, madam.”
“No doubt, once Clementine is finally wed, Evangeline will finally be able to shine.”
“I’m sure Lady Evangeline need not worry that Princess Clementine will outshine her. She is a beauty in her own right,” the Duke insisted.
“And yet it seems that is exactly what happened when you turned your attentions from my daughter to her
cousin,” Lady Motley continued acidly. Sir Hugo coloured at her insinuation.
“I beg your pardon, my Lady!” he sputtered. “Lady Evangeline and myself shared a dance or two - nothing more!”
Lady Motley smiled and softened her tone. “Of course. I meant merely that there had seemed to be a spark between the two of you - until your introduction to Princess Clementine.” She waved her hands dismissively. “It’s understandable. Clementine is a beautiful young woman, and a Princess no less, so, naturally, she will be hard to resist.”
“My Lady, I apologise if I have caused offence,” the Duke intoned worriedly. “I had not realised Lady Evangeline had taken my attentions as anything more than polite social intercourse.”
“Rest assured, my Lord, Evangeline thought nothing of it I’m sure.” Lady Motley laughed gaily. “Goodness me! Let us not be glum. Now, tell me of your plans for speaking to my brother.”
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