He Objects

16: Laughable

For the next week, I didn't catch more than a glimpse of the prince. I wasn't sure what I expected, but it wasn't that. He arrived in the morning—after breakfast this time—and was shown quickly into my father's study to look through the estate ledgers and discuss...whatever they were discussing. My father kept it all quite tight-lipped, much to my chagrin. I couldn't even tell if he was worried or relieved by the proceedings.

Though I hadn't seen much of the prince, I hadn't seen Felix at all. I assumed it was because I had yet to reply to his confounding letter. I was still struggling to believe it was genuine, or indeed whether it had been written by him at all. For the time being, it was tucked away in the bottom of the cherry wood box on my dressing table, where I kept letters, illustrations, and other bits and things I fancied. It didn't feel quite right to put it there, but it was one of the few places I could think of to keep it hidden away from prying eyes.

I wanted to show the letter to Prince Henri. Despite my acquaintanceship with Felix for years, I figured his cousin might know him better, and have some insights that I couldn't comprehend. And, the state of things being what they were, it was hard to feel too guilty about betraying Felix's privacy by sharing it. But Prince Henri was so elusive I hadn't found an appropriate moment to properly say hello, let alone to bring up the letter.

My moment finally came eight days after my failed wedding. I was out in the garden gathering some early blooms and watering the plants that looked more parched when I spotted the prince leaving the house out of the corner of my eye. However, instead of heading straight to the stables, he instead meandered off the path in my direction.

At first, I turned away hastily to pretend I hadn't seen him, then sighed and turned back around. What was the point? I was the only one in the garden. I glanced up from under the brim of my gardening hat—goodness, how embarrassing—to find Prince Henri already before me, eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Good afternoon," I greeted him with as much dignity as I could muster in my dusty apron and drooping hat.

"Good afternoon, Charlotte," he said, his eyes still full of mirth. He chuckled softly.

"I apologize for my attire," I said, trying hard not to wrinkle my nose. Really, the only way I could have been pristine is if I waited around in the house for him all day every day. And after so many days of him not bothering to seek my company, it seemed a bit much to ask. I suppressed the surge of annoyance and forced myself to smile blandly up at him.

The prince chuckled again. "You have nothing to apologize for. I think you look positively lovely, here among the flora." He lifted the brim of my hat to better see my face. "Besides, I wasn't laughing about your attire."

"Oh," I said, my voice sounding too high in my ears. "What did you find so amusing, then?" What was it about this man that always had me so flustered?

As if in answer to my unspoken thought, he leaned in closer, his silver eyes still bright even shaded by my hat's brim. "I'll tell you some other time."

I snorted, making him blink in surprise. "Of course. Why would I expect a different answer from the likes of you?"

"The likes of me?" Prince Henri said, tilting his head, still ever so close. My mother would have an aneurism if she saw us from the house. "Tell me, Charlotte, what am I like?

"Reticent, frustrating, and impossible," I said almost without thinking. Then my fingers flew to my mouth as my mind caught up with me. "Oh my," I said faintly, apologetically.

The prince's lips curled up into a grin. "I do love that about you," he said. "Your forwardness. It's refreshing."

"I'm glad. My mother would be unable to say the same," I said, deciding to just give in to my thoughts in the moment. He seemed to like it, after all. "Wait...you love that about me?"

His face grew serious. "Would that scare you?"

I looked up at him and studied his handsome face. As perfect as it seemed, for the first time I noticed an imperfection. A tiny scar went through his left eyebrow right near the outer edge. Nobody would notice unless they were close enough. Something about that thin line of white skin made my response clear. "No."

Prince Henri's eyes glinted, an expression of triumph flitting briefly across his face before settling again. "Good."

After allowing myself a few seconds to gaze into his silver eyes, I forced myself to come back to my senses. "Since you're still here, I was wondering if you had time to look at something."

His eyes flicked up and down my body. "What would that be?"

I resisted the urge to swat his arm. "A letter I received several days ago. From Felix."

The prince instantly turned wary. "Show me," he instructed.

"Let me go get it," I said. "Wait here?"

"Of course."

I paused for a moment, then unceremoniously thrust my basket of flowers into his hands. "I'll be right back!" I called out over my shoulder. When I returned minutes later, letter in hand and attire somewhat more tidy, he was right where I left him, inspecting the blooms overflowing from the basket as though they were the most interesting things in the world.

"Here," I thrust the letter into his free hand. What more could I say by way of introduction, anyway? He would know the contents soon enough.

I waited with bated breath as he scanned through Felix's note. His face was impassive the entire time. When he finished, he looked at me.

"Well?" I asked impatiently. "What do you think?"

Prince Henri pursed his lips. Then he burst out laughing.