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“For neglecting you these past three days.” He sits down. “I have been remiss and I’m sorry.”
“Ah, I see they told you about my blunder.”
Crossing his legs, he leans on the back of the armchair. “Jacques will have to bottle up his resentment and treat you as your rank dictates.”
“I have no rank.”
“You will in just a few days!”
I let out a heavy breath. “We both know it’s a sham marriage. Jacques knows it, too.”
“Usually, he’s more professional than that,” Louis says. “He’s letting his feelings cloud his judgment.”
We fall silent for a short while, watching the snow fall outside the window.
“You’ll have a busy day tomorrow,” Louis says.
I almost clap with eagerness. “You’re taking me to the royal palace? You lined up meetings with some people from the list I gave you?”
“We won’t leave Arrago for another two days,” he says. “Tomorrow, you’ll accompany me on my visit to the market in Gruyac and to the nursing home the dukes of Arrago have sponsored and housed within the duchy for two hundred years.”
The prospect of going outside the castle’s walls, discovering Arrago, and talking to people fills me with joy despite the disappointment. Let’s hope said people don’t chuck rotten tomatoes at me when they realize who I am.
“No one will dare insult you,” Louis says as if reading my mind. “The prestige of my family name is your shield and armor from now on.”
“For a year, perhaps. But the real, lasting fix is to prove my sister’s innocence.”
He gives a brief nod. “When we shook on the deal, I promised to help you. And I will regardless of what I think.”
“Is this your roundabout way of telling me you don’t believe Jeannette was framed?”
Instead of answering my question, he stands up. “Oh, and one other thing. Your wardrobe.”
“What about it?”
“We’ll do some clothes shopping in Gruyac tomorrow afternoon, to cover your immediate needs,” he says. “But in the morning before we leave, an award-winning haute couture designer who just arrived from Pombrio will stop by your chamber.”
“To do what?”
“To discuss the gown you’ll be wearing for our anointment ceremony and to take your measurements.”
“Must we be anointed?” I screw up my face. “Isn’t that for the princes only?”
“In Mount Evor, dukes and duchesses are anointed, too. The ceremony is much more intimate, though, and shorter.”
“Do I really need a gown? Can I wear a new sweater and pants instead? Aren’t we going to be cloaked in mantles, anyway?”
He rolls his shoulders. “It’s nonnegotiable, Camille. We’ll wear mantles, yes, but they come off during the celebratory banquet afterward. Underneath it, the new duke is expected to wear a tux, and the duchess, to show off an haute couture gown by an Evorian designer.”
“Fine, I’ll show off the gown but not an inch of skin!”
“Revealing a lot of skin is expected from luxury gowns—” He pauses, taking in my snarl. “But by all means, let the designer know your wishes.”
You bet I will!
Before he’s out the door, I raise another matter, “The market and the nursing home, I get it. But why do we need to be together when I buy some clothes?”
His gaze moves from my polka dot sweater to my bicolor jeans. “Because you can’t be trusted to pick befitting attire.”
