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“Of course. From everyone. I gather you fear someone?”
“My grandmother restricts all I do—everything the girls do, too. I cannot even eat sweets. It’s forbidden. Celeste worries I will put on too much weight. I cannot exercise in excess because I will be too fit. I cannot ride horses because it is too dangerous. I cannot have friends because they will put ideas in my head. I cannot speak to boys because it is a risk to my most valuable commodity.”
“And that is?” Margaux sat her cup and saucer on the table.
The look on Margaux's face suggested she knew what I was about to explain but I didn’t want to say it.
“My virginity, which is prized most of all.” I rolled my eyes.
Margaux chuckled. “No one cares about your virginity! They will care much more that you are a clever, kind person. And since you have arrived, I know both are true.”
“I cannot change my fate,” I said. “So, I must trade in what I can. Unfortunately, I worry she is right. If I can be a good prospect, perhaps I can marry well. And at least then I would have children and be happy. She wants me to marry—badly. And I must have children lest we have a succession crisis. So, I must avoid all allegations of impropriety.”
“Any man who would be worthy of marriage would not care,” Margaux said. “Oh, darling, I wish you were mine. I wish you could stay. I would love to scandalise the people back home by letting you out to enjoy life. It kills me you can’t even dance.”
“I’m not out properly?—”
“This isn’t Regency England. Would you like to marry, Alexandra?”
I shrugged. “Not particularly. However, if I could find a man who would let me be me and would mostly keep to himself, I could tolerate it. A kind enough sort of man. Not cleverer than me. And I would like to have children eventually.”
The Queen furrowed her brow. “Would you like some advice?”
I shrugged.
“Learn to dance. Meet someone who makes you do wild things. Go mad for him and enjoy your life. Be free. Live for yourself. Make friends. And, yes, your impulse is correct. Marry someone you outsmart. As a woman leading the charge, you need someone to delegate to, not someone to argue with you every step.”
“But she owns me. She owns everything. The idea of even learning to dance?—”
“You are a brilliant little thing. You can strike a bargain with her.”
“How?”
“Play into something that makes her think it is her idea. Use what leverage you have. Or wait it out another few years. I’d love to see you happy, Alexandra. You’re clever. You will figure it out.”
I left breakfast, going round and round. What was my leverage? What would she want? It dawned on me. She wanted to marry me off. I couldn’t be married without setting the regency aside. She worried about protecting me, but an engagement would soften that. If I chose the right man, I could find someone good enough I could be satisfied with. If I could find a man to take me seriously, she settle for securing the line of succession. Most of all, she’d be flattered if I asked her for advice.
Four
Rick
Iwoke the next morning unable to function until I popped an aspirin and drank water. I wished to return to bed and prayed my liver would not fail me now. The night before was dreadful. Yes, I’d managed to do something dirty in a staff office with an unbelievably hot blonde. I should have been happy but I wasn’t.
“Sir?” There was a knock.
“Yes?” I groaned.
“May I come in?”
It was Martin, my favourite protection officer. He’d been dispatched to me.
I choked out a yes and sat out, having more water. My whole head throbbed. It was awful.
“Sir, Queen Margaux and the Prince Consort would like to host you for lunch.”
“Motherfucker,” I groaned.
That was non-negotiable. I must attend. If a hosting monarch invited you to luncheon, you sucked it up and went.
