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Emmeline’s head spun. “I don’t understand. My aunt Jacqueline died at twenty from a rare heart condition—”
“That was a fabricated story her parents told the public to cover the sordid facts of Jacqueline’s death,” Claire said with great relish. “Your mother died giving birth to you. Now you know the truth.”
For a moment all was silent and then Emmeline spoke. “All these years you’ve known, but you hid the truth from me. Why?”
“It didn’t seem relevant,” Claire answered.
Emmeline exhaled in a rush. “Perhaps not to you, but it’s everything to me.”
Claire banged her hand on the table. “And why is it so important?”
“Because.”
“That’s it?”
“Yes.” Emmeline rose, stood for a moment with her fingertips pressed to the table. “It’s how I feel. And I have a right to feel what I feel. I have a right to be who I want to be. I think I’m going to have coffee and dessert later. If you’ll excuse me.”
She turned now to Makin and offered him a devastating smile. “Would you care to join me, darling?”
Makin would never forget that moment. He would have clapped if it had been appropriate. It wasn’t.
But this. this was why he wanted her. This was why she was his.
She was brilliant. Stunning. Majestic.
He’d listened to the revelation regarding her birth mother in silence, disgusted that William and Claire had kept the truth from her and even more disgusted that tonight’s dinner was when they’d chosen to share the news.
But they had. And Emmeline had handled it with grace, strength, dignity.
He loved her for it.
She was every inch the royal d’Arcy princess. Daughter of Europe’s beloved Princess Jacqueline d’Arcy.
Jacqueline would have been proud.
He rose to his feet, buttoned his black dinner jacket. “Yes,” he said simply, firmly, and offered her his arm.
Emmeline’s legs felt like jelly as they exited to the hall and she was grateful for Makin’s arm. Grateful for his support.
Her legs continued to feel like jelly as she climbed the stairs to her room and she held his arm tightly, thinking she couldn’t have gotten through this without him.
He gave her confidence. He made her feel safe. Strong. Good.
As if she truly mattered.
And somehow, with him, she almost believed she did.
Emmeline swallowed hard as they approached her room. “Never a dull moment around here, is there?”
“No,” he agreed, opening the door for her and then following her inside.
She wandered around the room for a moment, too agitated to sit.
She wasn’t the daughter of a Brabant commoner. Her mother had been Princess Jacqueline, Europe’s most beautiful royal, and she’d died in childbirth. She’d died giving life to her.
It was terrible. Tragic. But at least Emmeline now knew the truth.
“So now you know,” Makin said quietly, arms folded across his chest. “It was a horrible way to find out, but at least you know. There are no more secrets. No more skeletons in the closet. It’s all out in the open.”
Emmeline turned, looked at him. “If she hadn’t had me, she’d be alive.”
“If her parents hadn’t sent her away to give birth in secret, she would have lived.”
“You think so?”
“Yes.”
She nodded, and rubbed her arms. “And here I am, twenty-five years later, single and pregnant, too.”
“Yes. But things happen, mistakes happen, and we learn from them. We grow from them. And I look forward to starting a family with you. I think it’s going to be quite interesting.”
Her lips curved in a tremulous smile. “It certainly will be a change.”
“And an adventure.” He smiled back at her. “You’re good for me, you know. You’re shaking things up. Making me feel alive.”
“And you give me confidence. I’m already stronger because of you.”
“You were always strong. You just didn’t know it.”
“I wish it were true.”
“It’s true.” He closed the distance between them, and took her hands in his, kissing one palm and then the other, and finally her mouth.
He was just deepening the kiss when her bedroom door opened and a muffled cough came from the hall.
Makin lifted his head and, blushing, Emmeline faced her father who was standing in the hall holding an enormous garment bag. “It wasn’t all the way shut,” William said gruffly. “I can come back later.”
“No,” Emmeline said, cheeks still hot. “Come in, please.”
William hesitated. “I don’t know if this will fit, but it was Jacqueline’s. She wore this gown for her debutante ball. Mother saved it, and I thought perhaps you might want to wear it for the wedding..” His voice drifted off. He swallowed uncomfortably. “You might already have something—”
