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“I would’ve been pleased if you’d married Miranda,” she said a bit shortly.
“You’ll have to get used to disappointment on that account. Miranda wasn’t willing. What was I to do about that?”
“You could have fought for her!” Eliana tsk-ed. “You could have convinced her. Aren’t you the actor?”
“I’m not a wizard.” Emrys patted her hand and then let it go. “But I will be at the ball, no matter what.”
“There are a few ladies who will be in attendance you ought to meet. Not as good when it comes to a match as Miranda, but regardless.” Eliana picked at an imaginary dust mote from her blouse.
“I would prefer not to be paraded around like a prize stud.”
“Oh, the things you say! What am I supposed to do with my unmarried son? Do you really want to wait until you are forty for your inheritance?”
“I don’t want to, no, but I’ll do what I have to.” Emrys paused and his lips tightened into a sour expression. “You asked me to come to this ball just so that you could introduce me to eligible women, didn’t you?”
“You know that your father would be better persuaded to release your trust if you were at least engaged.” Eliana touched his knee. “I am simply looking out for my only son.”
“You needn’t look quite so closely. I’m capable of choosing my own bride, I assure you.” Emrys sighed and sat back, crossing his arms. It was hardly ever different with her. She had an incredible sense of “the way things are done,” and part of that was indeed arranged marriages used to solidify wealth and alliances. She herself had been given to the current king at only nineteen for that very reason. It just so happened that she was tremendously fond of her husband. Emrys doubted that anyone else in their family would have been so lucky in their matches.
“I brought a friend home with me. You’ll meet her at lunch,” Emrys said, unfolding his arms and sitting properly. “I expect that you will treat her with as much kindness as you could spare for your own daughter.”
Eliana seemed taken aback. Emrys caught the expression and wondered what could have startled her so. Before he could ask, she smiled like the Cheshire cat and patted his arm.
“Of course, Emrys! I will welcome her to the family with such stunning alacrity that she’ll hardly know which way is up.”
“Thank you, Mother.” Emrys rose and gestured to the door. “I will need to freshen up properly. I’ve already assigned Heloise to Caitlyn’s service, so she should be ready herself in a few hours. It’s been a long night for her.”
“I’d imagine. Did the two of you come straight from New York?”
“We did.” Emrys nodded.
“Well, regardless of your status, it is good that she has her privacy. There’s no need to cause a sensation before anything is official.”
Emrys frowned in confusion.
Eliana’s hands seemed to flutter eagerly in front of her. “I really ought to hunt down your grandmother’s ring.” She stood herself and set her tablet on the coffee table. “It would be perfect for this, assuming we can get it sized soon enough.”
Grandmother’s ring? Emrys watched her for another moment in bewilderment before it dawned on him that his mother had connected the first part of their conversation to his speaking of Caitlyn. Eliana assumed Caitlyn’s visit here involved meeting his parents—officially.
He opened his mouth to correct her, but he couldn’t say a word. It was impossible to squelch his mother’s excitement. Emrys knew that bustling energy. A new task for her, a new challenge. Preparing an announcement for the ball, seeing to the ring, making sure that the right people would be there to witness the event.
“I’m sure Caitlyn will love it,” he said.
Emrys had so seldom in his life made his mother happy. How could he take this away from her? He gave her another bow before leaving her to her planning.
A few hours later, after Emrys had cleaned up and checked with the butler about the goings-on of his family, he found himself in the southwest dining room with his older sister Imelda. She had sent her children off with their father for the afternoon, but she still seemed as busy and distracted as ever, making notes in her planner as she chatted with their mother about matters of state.
It was obvious why Imelda was next in line for the throne, her position as first-born notwithstanding.
Emrys was barely listening the moment they spotted Caitlyn in the doorway. She had changed into a long, flowing gown that she’d belted just below the bust. She seemed to float in and hover at the doorway. Her gaze lifted to the ceiling, drawn by the chandelier and the filigree sprawling from arch to arch.
