I scoff and point at my ruined clothes. “Clearly, I am no lady anymore.”
He tuts as he takes a step closer. “While some might say clothes make a lord, a lady, or even, daresay, a prince”—he pauses and flashes brilliantly white teeth at me—“it is one’s character that defines them.”
“That was oddly . . . profound,” I reply.
Hurt crosses his features, and he steps away. “What? Is it so hard to believe that the playboy prince has an ounce of profundity to him?”
I open my mouth to respond, but he waves me off. “I’m fully aware of how people speak of me and what my reputation is.”
The surge of empathy I feel toward him almost chokes me. Perhaps I’ve misjudged this prince.
“While my reputation as the reclusive Astoria might not be quite as negative as yours, I do empathize with the pain of not being understood.” I offer him a smile, and tension leaves his body, his own lips turning up slightly.
Clearing his throat, he says, “Regardless of what brought me here, perhaps our meeting is of the gods’ design. I have an idea I wish to speak with you about.”
I frown. What in the realms could he possibly want to discuss with me?
The prince looks up into the sky and then at me, worry creasing his brow. “Is it safe for you to be out here now? With the sun?”
I shrug. “It’s complicated, but it’s a risk I’m willing to take.”
He frowns again. “Okay . . . in that case, would you please walk with me?”
Hesitating, I chew on my lip and look around. I really ought to be starting the laundry before dinner, and I hate to think of the foul mood Stepmother will be in after the prince’s unexpected visit.
“I don’t know, Your Highness.” I tug on the fabric of my skirt. “While clothes might not define a person, I’m still expected to complete the tasks Stepmother has for me, and the day is running out.”
“This won’t take long, but I really would rather not be overheard,” he replies.
My interest piqued, I glance around once more. “Okay, fine. As long as you make it quick.”
He dips into a slight bow. “You have my word, my lady.”
I take his proffered arm without a second thought. The prince frowns as he stares at my hand. Immediately self-conscious, I try to pull away, but he starts walking toward the gardens, and I quicken my steps to keep up with his long stride.
“So, Your Highness, what is it you wish to discuss?” I ask.
“I’m not sure how far the rumors have spread, but perhaps you might have heard my father intends for me to marry by the end of the season.”
My heart skips a beat. It seems to happen quite a bit around him.Why is he telling me this?“And this is something you are looking forward to?”
A wry laugh leaves him. “Absolutely not. I have no desire to be bound in marriage.”
The odd flicker of disappointment surprises me. Not that I have any reason to care one way or the other. “Forgive me, my prince. I’m not quite sure what any of this has to do with me. I’m sorry you’re being forced to wed though. I, for one, think marriage is a waste of time if you have no actual interest in it.”
The prince stops and turns to face me. “Perhaps this will work even better than I thought.”
“Pardon?”
“Let’s get betrothed.” The words tumble out of him so quickly, I surely must be hearing wrong.
“What?”
“It’s perfect,” he declares. “Neither one of us wants to be wed, but on paper, it will make my father happy, and with the status of our betrothal, surely your stepmother will have no choice but to release you from these ridiculous chores she has you doing.”
I sputter in shock. I don’t even know where to start with this absurd idea and the conflicting feelings overwhelming me.
“Let me get this straight,” I say. “You want me to be bound to you in name only just to please your father and to get me out of doing laundry?”
