♦YOU MUST HAVE READ THE PREQUEL, THE GOLDEN DUCHESS, TO READ THIS BOOK!♦
BEWARE--spoilers in this blurb, for those who have not read previous books! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!
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The world is upside down, and those you thought you knew... you no longer...
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In the rarely deserted Public Library, Prudence and Pauline sipped on tea—coffee for Prudence—while relaxing by the massive windows overlooking the Gardenview Corridor.
"Your father, bless his soul, would have been so proud of Romain." Pauline smacked her lips, savoring her fruity drink.
Prudence enjoyed this room. It was tranquil, with little traffic rushing past, and offered a lovely scenery for a peaceful moment with her mother.
"What were his plans for the country? For us?" She shivered; though getting used to the cold—the walks outside had accustomed her to the bitter breezes—she still disliked it.
Pauline winced. "I am unsure." She set her teacup on its matching saucer and reached for a vanilla macaron. "He wanted peace with Totresia, but he also wanted revenge on Edouard's rudeness. They were never on friendly terms, sadly." She chewed, swallowed, then attempted a small smile. "He would not have let it get to death, though. He was not like that."
Prudence had seen paintings of Gregor. He was the spitting image of Romain, with shorter hair but the same imposing musculature, sparkling green gaze, and harsh features. Pauline had confirmed their similarities in character, too, comparing them often as she grinned, with tears in her eyes.
"If only he had been more careful," said Prudence, unsure of the real circumstances that had pushed her father to voyage into Totresia with her. She hadn't dared to ask, but was confused why he'd pull such a risky move.
"Ah, but Gregor was—"
Pauline's speech cut off when the Library door wrenched open. Both women stood—and Pauline spun to the arrival—and set their hands over their hearts.
At the sight of the King, they dropped into curtsies. Pauline's mint green gown swished and billowed all around her as she rose.
"Romain, how nice of you to join—"
Romain grunted, cutting her off once more. "Thank you, Mother, but I am not here for tea." His gaze found Prudence's. "I am here to escort my sister to her betrothed."
It took every ounce of Prudence's willpower to not grimace.
Betrothed? So he decided?
She was to meet with Cornelius so he could rub it in her face. So he could be certain she knew her destiny was in his hands, and he controlled her. She'd be his wife, forced to sit at his dinner table, lay in his bed, bear him children—
She clenched her teeth and inclined her head towards Pauline. "Mother, if you will excuse me."
Pauline smiled at her. "Duty calls. We will resume our chat later." She sat and picked up the knitting she'd set next to her teacup.
As she approached her brother, Prudence adjusted her décolleté, that had slipped lower than she preferred; she didn't want Cornelius enjoying it.
