“Although it is too late to remedy the situation, I feel compelled to apologize for giving up on our courtship—on you—so easily.”
Amy pinched her lips together and cast her gaze down. He saw her throat bob as she swallowed. “You left without a word and did not write. You did not inquire after me again. I can only draw the conclusion, then as now, that I was unimportant to you.”
His spirit went into revolt at her words, but he could not show her even a fraction of what he felt—of what hehadfelt for her—now that he was engaged and it was all in the past.
“You were important to me. I did not show it because I assumed when you accepted Mr. Bromley that my feelings were not returned. I was hurt,” he said. She nodded once, silent. “I hope you will make allowances for a man’s pride.”
“I do.” She glanced at Mr. Renoz, who was leading the crowd forward to the smaller salon on the opposite end of the ballroom. “I forgive you, James. You may rest easy and marry Miss Prexley in good conscience.”
She had called him by his Christian name as she once had. Amy moved forward to join the crowd, and James stayed where he was, frozen with feelings he could not identify. She had been perfectly gracious. She had accepted his apology and seemed to understand his motivations at the time. Now, as she said, he could marry Isabel with his conscience clear. Then why did he feel so dissatisfied?
Chapter 14
When Tuesday morning arrived, the Bridwells drank the waters at three different sources and ate a meal at La Redoute afterward. Papa had only held out two days in following Mr. Hughes’s injunctions to take only chocolate in their rooms. Amy, however, had been unable to think of anything but her upcoming meeting with the princess that day.
When it was nearly time to leave, Marianne came into her room and handed Amy a pair of embroidered mitts they had purchased in Brussels, hovering anxiously next to her.
“The Princess Orlova has shown you an extraordinary distinction by inviting you to take tea with her.”
Amy tugged the mitts up to her elbows and smoothed the wrinkles in the silk with her bare fingers as Hannah entered the room. She checked her appearance one more time in the reflecting glass.
“I do not need to be reminded of it.” She took a deep breath. “I only wonder why she should choose to single me out.”
“Have you had any encounters with her that would cause her to do so?” Hannah reached up to coax one of Amy’s curls back into place. It was a strange sensation to have her sisters dote on her that way.
Amy thought back to the brief moment under the pavilionnear Saint Remaclus’s footprint. “Once, the first time we took the waters. I cautioned her children to take care when running for fear they would trip over a hole in the ground, and she thanked me for it. It was a conversation of no account.” Satisfied with her appearance, Amy left the bedroom and walked down the corridor leading to the parlor.
“Well, you will not need your bonnet since you are only walking to the other wing of the hotel,” Marianne said, handing her thejolitétheir father had purchased for the visit. These wereSpadoisspecialties made by theébénisteswho intricately carved, inlaid, and lacquered wood items, especially for the curists. For the princess, Mr. Bridwell had chosen a gold-inlaid wooden box that held a quadrille card game. It was a charming gift, and useful, and would remind the princess of her time in Spa. Amy hoped she would be pleased with it.
Hannah and Marianne followed her across the parlor to the front door. Upon seeing Amy, their father rose from the sofa with stiff movements.
“I do not think the water is having any effect at all,” he complained as he limped behind them to the door.
This caused Amy’s nervous preoccupation to halt momentarily. “I believe we might ask Mr. Fletcher for medical advice regarding your ailment, Papa.” It would mean more interaction between her and James, which would carry its own pain, but she truly thought he might help. “That is, if you wish it.”
Her father waved it off. “No need. If Mr. Hughes cannot find the cure, I will not likely have one from a man so much his junior, even if he is from Kent.”
Amy let the idea go and faced her family. It was such a formal leave-taking for what would likely be only one hour spent in the princess’s rooms.
“Wish me luck.” She flashed her family a brief smile, then entered the corridor and shut the door behind her. She breathed in to steady her nerves and walked toward the stairwell, whichconnected this floor to the other wing. It was not that she was precisely dragging her feet, but there were surely others who would have better appreciated the opportunity she was being given, starting with Hannah.
She tapped on the princess’s door, hoping Rebecca had already arrived. She did not know if there would be others taking tea with them, and if so, who. Not that the company mattered. One did not reject a request coming from a princess. A manservant opened the door and admitted her into the parlor. There, she recognized the Duchess of Leeds, who was already seated, along with Mrs. Ferrin. Her anxiety eased a little when her gaze landed on the latter. Mrs. Ferrin was comfortable to talk to and was no more noble than Amy. Even Rebecca, for all she was simplicity itself, was the daughter of a baron.
The servant was about to announce Amy to those waiting but was interrupted by another knock on the door. A maid appeared from a corridor and opened it to admit Rebecca, who exchanged a timid smile with Amy as she joined her at the entrance to the parlor.
The servant announced them both, and they curtsied to the two other guests. Amy greeted Mrs. Ferrin by name and received the duchess’s nod. Shortly afterward, the princess made her appearance. When she entered the room, the guests paid their respects in order of importance, with the duchess leading, then Rebecca, Mrs. Ferrin, and last of all Amy.
Following the others’ lead, Amy dipped into a deep curtsy before the princess, murmuring, “Your Highness.” After all, they were in private quarters, and it was better to err by using the proper address than by omitting it.
The princess waved this away. “In Spa, we forget such formality and put at edge of town like gentlemen’s swords. Here, I am ‘madame.’”
“Yes, ma’am,” they said in unison. Amy knew Rebecca was as nervous as she was, even if she did belong to the peerage.
The two married women offered their gifts, then Rebecca presented a dish of glazed chestnuts and nougat, explaining that the plate was a Sèvres her father had purchased on his travels. After the princess thanked her, Amy stepped forward, holding thejolitéin two hands, willing herself not to tremble. The princess, who likely could have anything she wished for, probably had three of them already.
“It is acoffret de quadrille,” Amy explained. “I am sure you are more familiar with thejolitésthat Spa has on offer than I am, but I hope it will please you.”
“Very pretty.” Madame Michalkoff’s smile sent a wave of relief through Amy. Her father’s passion as a collector had served him well in this instance. The princess then indicated for the servants to show them to their seats in an adjoining room that resembled a small dining room.
