Series: Willow Winters
Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 72146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
At first, I hide my head under the pillow and pray for the bottle to disappear. I cannot face what it means that someone—likely a member of the staff—has placed this bottle in just this place, knowing that I would see it immediately when I woke.
When it has become too hard to breathe under the pillows, I uncover my head, hoping that the tincture will be gone.
It is still there.
I find myself grateful then, because the tincture can only mean one thing—the staff knows I have dallied with men. They may not know that I have slept with two men, but they know—or at least they suspect with enough confidence to be the same as knowing—that I may need such a tincture if I am to proceed with marriage arrangements.
I lie there for a few minutes, watching the bottle. I should leap up and drink it without another moment to lose, but something in me warns that I should not be too hasty.
I let out a laugh at that idea. It is far too late for me to question if I have rushed too fast into such things. Still, I do not reach for the bottle until I climb out of bed. I tuck it into a drawer with a plan to transfer it to my pocket later, so that I may have it with me at all times.
Alice and Blanche come to make me ready for the day. They are lighthearted and chatter with each other and with me as they bring me the things I need to bathe and dress, then help me into another new gown.
“I promise, she did not stay up nights working on this one,” Blanche tells me, her expression serious. “I made sure she slept. But the palace seamstress is a talented woman, and it did not take her long to fashion this gown for you. I think it will be fit for any activity you might take up today.”
I had nearly forgotten about my irritation on the palace seamstress’s behalf, and mean to comment on it, but something Blanche has said stands out to me.
“Tell her I am glad she did not—wait, Blanche, what do you mean? What activities might I take up?”
I glance in the mirror at the gown they are lacing for me. It is suitable for tea, certainly, and even a walk in the garden. It is of a sweet, blush color, but not so light as to show wear, perhaps from travel.
“I only meant,” Blanche says, meeting my eyes in the mirror, “that it will suit any occasion. Except, perhaps, an evening ball.”
Alice and she share a short laugh at that, though I cannot rid myself of the suspicion that Blanche knows more than I do.
“You did walk in the garden with Prince Jasper,” Alice adds softly. “And he did take you in the carriage. All the servants were astonished that he would drive the carriage himself. He must be quite a capable prince.”
“Yes,” agrees Blanche. “I would think there is nothing he could not do.”
They are careful not to make this an innuendo, but it is one nonetheless. And…it is true. It seems to me that there is nothing Prince Jasper cannot do. He can sail, drive a carriage, fight in war unscathed, and converse with me on topics I am barely honest with myself about.
The reminder of scars dampens my mood and reminds me of a different love.
At that thought, there is, however, one thing that I do not know if Jasper is capable of. I do not know if he is capable of forgiving me for going back to my secret lover. I was not honest, and for that, I am ashamed.
“Are you all right, Princess?” Alice asks. She is watching my face in the mirror, and I have begun to show the torture of my situation.
I smile at her again to reassure her. “I’ve been thinking far too much lately. I was lost in thought again.”
“Who could blame you? There is so very much happening,” Blanche comments.
“Oh! And there are guests this morning, so you’ll be needing this.” Alice places my tiara on my head, and that is the last piece I need before I am prepared to go down to breakfast.
I take a deep breath to calm my nerves. Today I must tell him everything. I cannot continue to have my heart break from being torn by two lovers.
My father meets me at the top of the grand staircase, just as he did when he escorted me down to see all the suitors. Just as he did when he took me down to see Prince Jasper for the first time, when he was still in his riding clothes.
“Good morning, daughter,” he says, with something in his eyes that I cannot name at once. Is it fondness or fear? Perhaps some of both. “Did you sleep well?”