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“And they never had a son.” He splayed his hand across the paper. “If they had, you wouldn’t be forced to do this. You wouldn’t be the heir. But you are, and you need to deal with that. You need to do your duty with the poise and grace expected of you.”
She glanced at Gordon. He stood across the room, clearly not able to hear them. But when she locked gazes with him, he must’ve seen the torment in her. He took a step toward her, glanced at the ambassador, and then stopped. “What’s wrong?” he mouthed.
She shook her head once and forced her attention back to the papers.
“You can have a man on the side, once you give the prince his heirs,” the ambassador said, his attention on Gordon. “But not before. Don’t even think of dallying with the American, Princess Isabelle.”
Isabelle glanced up, unable to believe he’d figured all that out just because they’d exchanged a glance. “Excuse me?”
“I see the way you two are watching each other.” He shrugged. “Even royals have dalliances on the side. But you need to hold off till you have your heirs. It’s right here.” He flipped three pages further and pointed to the paper. “See?”
Sure enough, it had a section about “marital affairs” in it. She wasn’t “permitted” to have an affair until “after the four kids were conceived”. George, however, was permitted to “dally, as long as it didn’t affect his husbandly duty”.
“Oh my God. I can’t believe this.”
“I know. They’ve really thought of everything,” he said, admiration ringing in his tone. He picked up the wine that had somehow arrived without her noticing. “It’s extremely thorough.”
Picking up her glass, she downed it in one gulp.
Princesses don’t imbibe in public.
The ambassador frowned at her empty glass. “Thirsty?”
“Very,” she croaked. After swiping her hand across her mouth, she gathered the papers and stuffed them into the file. “I’m going to take this home with me. Read it over in peace and quiet.”
Maybe find a way to get out of it, she added silently.
“Of course.” The ambassador stood. “But you haven’t eaten yet.”
“I don’t like steak,” she said, standing and gathering her things. “So I’ll be fine.”
“Oh.” He blinked. “I had no idea.”
“No one does.” Except for Gordon. “I’ll look over these extremely thoroughly.”
Speaking of Gordon…he came up to her side, glancing between the ambassador and her. “Are you finished already, Princess Isabelle?”
“Yes. I’m ready to go.” She hugged her file to her chest, her entire body trembling with rage, frustration, disgust and…and…fear. So much nauseating fear. “Please take me back to my hotel. Could you please let my people know I’m leaving early? They can finish eating before following. I have my guard.”
“Of course. But remember what I said about the clause on—” the ambassador looked at Gordon, then back at her, “—activities outside of the contract. If broken, it could be a deal breaker, and we can’t afford that.”
She grit her teeth. “Oh, I remember quite clearly, sir.”
“Excellent.” He bowed. “As always, it was a pleasure seeing you again, princess.”
She inclined her head, then left without another word.
Truth be told, she couldn’t manage to get a nice word out at all. Not right now. Not to him. She pushed past the door, each step jerkier than the one before it. Gordon tried to open the doors for her, but she didn’t wait for him. Her assistant and stylist were sitting at the bar, but they didn’t see her pass. She hadn’t been scheduled to leave for another forty-five minutes, after all.
As soon as they were outside, she collapsed against the brick building and closed her eyes. “I don’t want to do this,” she whispered.
Gordon stepped in front of her, blocking the sun from her closed eyes. “Don’t want to do what?”
“Marry him. I can’t.”
“Then don’t.” He reached out and cupped her cheek. His touch was tender, and yet controlling all at once. “Don’t do it. No one can make you do it.”
Princesses never walk away from their duties. “But—”
