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“Princess Isabelle,” the gray-haired ambassador said, rising and smoothing his suit over his rotund belly. “Such a pleasure to see you again.”
“Yes, you as well
,” she said, doing the European kisses to his cheeks. After they sat, she smoothed her napkin over her lap and smiled at him. “How’s your wife? And your son?”
“They’re both excellent.” The man beamed. “My son is in England for his second year in university, and my wife is keeping herself occupied by doing multiple charitable activities.”
That’s what her lot would be. Keeping herself occupied while her husband busily ran the country. “Excellent,” she said.
“As a matter of fact, I hear you’ll be joining our ranks soon, too.”
She froze. “Excuse me?”
“You’re getting married.” He pulled out a file with his chubby hands. “Your mother told me the wonderful news and asked me to give these to you. Congratulations on your engagement to Prince George. I hear he was quite enchanted with you.”
She took the file out of reflex. “We’re not engaged.”
“Not yet.” He waved a hand. “That’s just a formality, though. Your family wants it. So does his. It’s all just a matter of the asking now.”
“And the accepting,” she said, her grip on the file tight. “I have to accept, as well.”
“We all know you will. Even Prince George is very confident in the matter.” He patted her hand condescendingly. “It’s just a matter of when and how.”
She knew what was expected of her. She knew what she was supposed to do. But hearing that everyone assumed she would say yes, without asking her, made her blood boil. “What if I don’t like George?” she asked.
The ambassador’s grin melted away. “Then you’ll learn to like him.”
“So everyone says.” She set the folder down, glaring down at it as if it alone was the cause of all her troubles. “Why do I have to marry him?”
“He’s bringing money and strength into the kingdom.” He leaned back in his chair. “Need I say more?”
“Yes.” She tipped her chin up. “Why is it on me to bring him into the kingdom? Why can’t they try for an alliance another way?”
“Because this is the way of our people. And the people count on you to do this for them. For the country. It’s your duty, as a royal.”
A princess never lets her country down.
She swallowed hard. “I know.”
“Then why argue about it, while we should be celebrating?” He flipped the folder open. “Shall we commence with business?”
She glanced at the waiter. He was across the room, chatting with Gordon. “Shouldn’t we order first?”
“I already did. You’re getting steak and a glass of white wine. No sides.” He pointed to the file. “Start reading, Princess Isabelle.”
She skimmed the first line. It didn’t take long to figure out that it was a pre-nup. “Seriously? We’re not even engaged yet.”
“Like we said: that’s a formality at this point.” The ambassador shrugged. “After Friday night, it won’t be.”
Her heart stopped, then sped up painfully fast. “He’s…proposing Friday? You know this for a fact?”
“I’m quite certain of it, actually. He asked your father’s permission.” He flipped the page. “Keep reading. We’ve only got an hour scheduled.”
Panic rose up in her, choking off all words. All thoughts. This was actually happening. This was her life. It wasn’t fair. She didn’t want George. Didn’t want a loveless marriage. Didn’t want…this. She forced her blurred vision to the pre-nup. “It says here I have to have three kids. Four if there is no boy in the first three. They can’t be serious.”
“Yes.” The ambassador pushed his glasses higher on his nose. “It’s a little old-fashioned, but it makes sense. They want to assure his line carries on.”
His. Not theirs. “My parents only had me,” she said. “They didn’t have an agreement on how many children they had.”
