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“Some people don’t like the idea of a woman being in charge.”
“They’d feel better if there were a strong male presence. Mr. Gates can be that for you. He’s well-liked by many. Charismatic. Has a natural draw. His charitable contributions, not only here in Europe but also around the globe, are remarkable.”
“I know all about his philanthropic endeavors,” I tell my father, not wanting to admit it puts my own charity work to shame, something I’ve always prided myself on.
“Then you see why he’s a good fit for you. And from a good family.”
“You mean a wealthy family.”
I doubt they’d be so quick to marry me off to some of the people I volunteered with through the Humanitarian Corps. They’re just as giving as Jameson. Possibly more so. But they’re lacking something needed to get your foot in the door in my world. A large bank account.
“I understand your frustration, Esme. I anticipated it. But the wheels are already in motion. Trust me when I say there’s nothing anyone can do to stop them now. If the royal household wants you to be married, you will be married. Jameson is a good man,” he repeats, as if the more he reminds me, the more accepting I’ll be.
“You expect me to be okay marrying someone I don’t love? You got to marry for love.”
“That was a different set of circumstances. By the time I met your mother, your uncle, Prince Nicholas, was already married with four children, bumping me down to sixth in line. No one could have anticipated what happened to them. Which is why it wasn’t of great concern who I married. To be fair, I still married someone my parents approved of. Just like you will.”
“But what if I want to experience the kind of love you and Mum once had?”
He floats his gaze to a frame on the corner of his desk. One containing a photo of my mother and father on their wedding day.
“This life and love can’t co-exist.”
Even though my parents had grown distant in the last few years of my mother’s life, which my brother and I blamed on the royal household seeing her MS diagnosis as a sign of weakness, her death still hit my father hard. Hell, it hit all of us hard.
“If anyone should understand that…” There’s a slight tremble in his voice as he lifts his eyes to mine. Sorrow flickers on his face before he schools his expression, pushing down any sign of emotion. “You should. Especially after witnessing it tear your mother and me apart once I became king.”
“But—”
He holds up a hand, silencing me. “It’s your duty to marry and provide the requisite heirs,” he states, any hint of emotion gone from his voice. “I know it’s not what you want to hear, but I’m confident you and Mr. Gates will make it work. You may never love him. In my experience, it’s better if you don’t. Regardless, I’m certain you’ll find a way to develop a…mutual respect.”
He stands, re-securing the button on his suit jacket.
“Take a minute to collect yourself. When you join us, I expect your full compliance.” He narrows his steely gaze in warning. Then he strides past me, leaving me alone in his private office.
I pinch my eyes shut, jaw clenched, head throbbing. I thought by appealing to my father’s love for my mother, he’d want the same for me, even if I’ve never had much desire to find some once-in-a-lifetime love.
From the day my father was coronated as king, I knew I’d have to marry.
I just wanted it to be my choice.
I guess I should be relieved they chose Jameson. They could have paired me with any number of stuck-up members of society, many of whom make my skin crawl. Instead, they selected someone who routinely uses his wealth for good. I don’t know many other people with the same upbringing who would do the same.
He may not be my choice.
But at least he’s not a horrible choice.
Reminding myself that Jameson’s a handsome, charitable man most woman would love to be with, I take a fortifying breath. Then I return to the conference room.
“Your Highness.” Jameson jumps to his feet upon noticing me, interrupting Gianna as she discusses her comprehensive plan for the proposal.
It shouldn’t surprise me that every last detail about my so-called relationship with Jameson has already been planned and decided, probably based on market research and polling. But it does. Any reassurances I’d tried to convince myself of moments ago instantly disappear. I’m frozen in place, unable to put one foot in front of the other, even when Jameson pulls my chair out for me
“Esme,” my grandmother says when several protracted seconds pass, her voice low and even. “Please, have a seat.”
Everyone looks my way, waiting for me to join them.
I thought I was ready to join the conversation. Thought I’d be okay with this.
