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Her life would be perfect, if only she could forget about Eirik and stop following the daily news coverage about him on social media. It was no secret in Fjernland that His Serene Highness, Prince Otto was prepared to abdicate in favour of his remaining son as soon as Prince Eirik had become betrothed. The media were in a frenzy, trying to guess who his bride and future Princess Consort would be. While his father was recuperating after a recent health scare, Prince Eirik had stood in for Prince Otto at several royal functions and had been accompanied by his mother.
Every photo and news film clip had shown Ida Lundberg in the background. In all probability Eirik would reveal at his birthday ball that he was going to marry the elegant blonde, Arielle thought dismally. And she would be there to witness him make the announcement.
At the beginning of the week Valdemar had handed Arielle an envelope bearing the royal coat of arms. Inside she’d found an invitation to attend the masquerade ball at the Winter Palace.
‘Frida and I received our invitations a few weeks ago,’ Valdemar explained. ‘Representatives from the many organisations, societies and charities that Prince Eirik supports will attend the ball. I spoke to the Prince after I’d offered you a job, and he thought it would be a nice idea to invite the marine institute’s newest recruit to the ball. He will send a car for us, and we have been allocated rooms at the palace for the night. The Winter Palace is high up in the mountains, and the journey home would be too much for Frida after the party.’
‘I don’t own a ball gown,’ Arielle had said lamely. It was the only excuse she could think of. She couldn’t admit that the idea of going to the ball and seeing Eirik with his future bride would be torture.
‘I’m sure you will find something suitable to wear in one of the boutiques in Ved Floden,’ Frida had suggested. ‘I bought a dress for the ball a few weeks ago. But I’ve got huge.’ She patted her pregnancy bump. ‘I’ll look like a whale.’
‘You will be the most beautiful woman in the ballroom,’ Valdemar had assured his wife. The tender look between the couple had caused Arielle a pang of envy. Since her disastrous relationship with Jack, she hadn’t dated anyone else. Falling in love seemed a scary prospect. But seeing how happy Valdemar and Frida were had made her realise that loving the right person and being loved in return could be wonderful.
Not that she had any intention of falling in love with Eirik, Arielle told herself sternly. Setting her hopes on an unobtainable prince was a certain route to heartbreak. But at least the problem of a ball gown had been resolved. The previous day, after she’d finished work, the concierge of the apartments had handed her a parcel that had been delivered for her.
She had hurried up to her flat to open the box with the name of a Paris couture house on the front, and gasped when she’d lifted the dress out. It was dark green velvet, with a fitted bodice, low cut at the front and plunging almost to her waist at the back. The skirt clung to her hips before flaring out in a fishtail design to the floor. Arielle had discovered that she could not wear a bra beneath the daring dress. A pair of green velvet, high-heeled shoes and a matching clutch bag completed the outfit, and there was also a beautiful green and gold mask. A note in the box simply bore Eirik’s name, and the sight of his bold handwriting had made her heart skip a beat.
The ball was on Thursday evening, and for the whole day Arielle’s emotions lurched between excitement and dread. She had never been inside a royal palace and was never likely to get the opportunity again. As for Eirik, she guessed he had sent her the ball gown as a thank you for saving him after his yacht had sunk. It would be foolish to read anything more into his kind gesture, she told herself. He had probably asked one of his staff to choose a dress for her.
She spent the afternoon in the lab with Frida, analysing samples of microplastics using an infrared imaging machine. Discovering what types of plastics were in the oceans was an important step in the fight to stop the pollution.
‘I’ll finish typing up the report,’ Arielle said when she saw Frida rubbing her back. ‘Why don’t you put your feet up for a while?’
‘I will, if you don’t mind. It feels like the baby is playing football inside me.’
‘You only have a few more weeks to go, don’t you?’ Arielle murmured sympathetically.
Frida gave a weary smile. ‘To tell you the truth I’m a bit anxious about the birth. Valdemar and I tried to get pregnant for six years before we struck lucky. This baby means everything to us.’
Arielle remembered that Eirik had told her he must marry in order to provide a legitimate heir to the throne. He had stated that love would not be a feature of his marriage, but would he love his child? She hoped so, for she knew what it was like to grow up without loving parents.
Her mother had loved her, but after she had died Arielle had had no one to praise her when she’d done well at school or comfort her when she was unwell. Her father had only noticed her if she’d forgotten to prepare the fire or failed to have his dinner ready when he wanted it. Children needed to feel loved, and so did adults. The loveless marriage that Eirik insisted he wanted sounded like a recipe for disaster.
She smiled at Frida. ‘Go home and rest, and I’ll see you tonight. The car will be here at six thirty to take us to the palace.’
Hair straighteners were a godsend, Arielle decided later when she studied her reflection in the mirror. Instead of her usual riot of curls, her hair fell in sleek waves to halfway down her back. The dramatic dress required her to wear more make-up than usual. She always used concealer to cover the small scar on her cheek, and for the party she’d emphasised her eyes with a smoky shadow and added a slick of dusky rose gloss to her lips.
The velvet gown moulded her curvy figure, and she hoped it wasn’t too obvious that she was braless. The dress managed to be both sexy and sophisticated. It was hard to believe that the woman in the mirror was ordinary Arielle Tremain who had been teased by her classmates for wearing a threadbare school uniform several sizes too small. One of the teachers had taken pity on her and sorted out some second-hand skirts and blouses and a winter coat when she’d explained that her father did not give her money for clothes.
Her old insecurities flooded back. Why had she thought that she could go to a royal ball? She did not belong in Prince Eirik’s world. But perhaps experiencing his luxurious lifestyle for one evening would make her accept that she did not stand a chance with him.
Hearing a knock on the door of the apartment, she grabbed her purse and overnight bag and found Valdemar in the corridor. He was wearing jeans rather than a dinner suit as Arielle had expected, and his expression was strained.
‘I have to take Frida to the hospital right away. She was feeling unwell, and I asked the midwife to visit. Her blood pressure is too high, and it could be dangerous for her and the baby.’ He stared at Arielle’s dress. ‘Obviously we can’t go to the ball.’
‘Of course not.’ Arielle quashed the selfish stab of disappointment she felt. ‘Hospital is the best place for Frida, and I’m sure everything will be all right,’ she said gently.
‘I hope so.’ Valdemar’s voice was gruff. ‘It is too late to ask any of the other staff from the institute to accompany you to the palace, but you will be a great representative for our work in marine conservation. I sent a message to Prince Eirik explaining that you will be on your own this evening.’
‘Oh, I thought...’ Butterflies leapt in Arielle’s stomach when she realised that Valdemar expected her to attend the ball alone.
He was already striding down the corridor and called over his shoulder, ‘The car to take you to the palace is waiting outside. I must get back to Frida.’
The tall white towers of the Winter Place reached towards an indigo night sky that was scattered with thousands of glittering stars. Beyond the fairy-tale castle loomed craggy mountains with snow-covered peaks. A crescent moon was reflected in the still, black water of the lake in front of the palace.
Arielle wished she had more time to take in the beauty of her surroundings. But the car swept up the gravel driveway, past the line of limousines queuing to deposit party guests at the grand front entrance of the palace. The chauffeur drove on and turned into a small courtyard at the back of the building. He jumped out to open the rear door and when Arielle alighted from the car, she was met by Eirik’s private secretary.
‘Miss Tremain, please come this way.’
