A NEW PARAMOUR FOR THE PRINCE?-1

507 Words
Chapter 4: A NEW PARAMOUR FOR THE PRINCE? 19 JANUARY Year 21 of the Reign of King Henry XII It’s been four days since the Prince of Wales offered me a nearly Shakespearean bargain, and I’ve not heard a word from him since. Four days, and suddenly he seems just like any other man. So, when, dear diary, is it reasonable to expect to hear from one’s prince about destiny and dynasty? I can’t tell Priya. I can’t tell anyone. He didn’t forbid me to talk, but I know better. Who would even believe me if I did tell? I may be uncertain and confused right now, but I saw how he looked at me. I have worked in laboratories long enough to recognize when a man believes he’s just laid eyes on a long-sought solution. A scientist with a breakthrough after years of hard work. It’s not quite how Gary used to look at me, like I was a prize he had won. I’m not sure how it’s different yet, but it is. * * * * * * * ON THE FIFTH DAY, DURING which she spent six hours in the lab cursing over an experiment that simply would not cooperate, another cream-colored envelope arrived in the mail. Amelia opened it as soon as she got home, still smelling of chemicals and in desperate need of a bath. This time, it actually was to a garden party. Amelia stuck the invitation on the fridge below the picture of Prince Arthur that was still there. Amelia and the Prince were likely to have very little opportunity to interact at a garden party. If the matter of marriage were still on the table — and surely the garden party was not just some odd consolation prize — she wanted to discuss this situation with him more. Much more. In great and lingering detail. But she didn’t know how or when. Her mobile rang, and she fumbled through her coat pockets to find it. It was her mother, calling to inform Amelia that she and Amelia’s father, as well as Charlie and Jo and even Nick, had received an invitation to the palace for a garden party a few weeks from now. Would Amelia like to go to dinner with them all afterward? Amelia said yes and then took a deep breath. “Actually, Mum, I’ve an invitation to the party as well.” “Have you now? Does this have anything to do with that photo of you and the Prince at the races?” Amelia bit her lip and wondered if her mother’s tone — curious, amused, and definitely judgmental — was a reason to confess or a reason to wait. Somehow, her situation didn’t seem the sort of thing to share over the phone. “I don’t know.” She did her best to sound normal. “That’s lovely. Do you want me to send down some clothes for you?” It was on the tip of Amelia’s tongue to say no, she had a good outfit at school, she was fine. But then she remembered that Prince Arthur had already seen her in that. She should probably wear something different. Even if she’d be wearing a coat over it. She resisted the urge to bang her head on her desk. “Yes. Thank you.” * * *
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