Ever After (Unfinished Fairy Tales #3)(77)
Kat
I wanted to rush out and meet Edward at his carriage, but it’s impossible. The building is surrounded by the hordes who have come to hear the divorce case. I barely have a glimpse of Edward before he is swallowed by an army of hungry reporters. After his moving confession that brought tears to the audience, the headlines tomorrow will definitely paint a positive light of Edward and I.
“Princess Kat.” Bertram’s huge frame seems to take up half of the Gallery. He gestures at the exit with a meaty hand. “We got to go.”
“But what about Edward?”
“His Highness ordered I take you back to the duke’s house. Said he’ll return later. Something about needing to go to the palace first.”
Somehow he manages to hustle me to the carriage, using a hidden stairway. I keep my head down, my hair hidden in the bonnet. Elle arrived using her own carriage, so we part ways as soon as we leave the building. She holds my hand, congratulates me again, and drives off.
When we arrive at Henry’s house, Amelie is waiting in the parlor, along with Thomas, Cook, and the scullery maid. They cluster around me when I enter the sitting room; all of them intent and expectant.
“The court granted the divorce,” Amelie says. I’m sure my face says it all.
“Yes.” I flash them a bright smile. “Edward did it. We have to wait three months until the divorce can be finalized, but if no objection is raised, we’ll be able to marry and move back to the palace.”
“Oh, thank goodness.” Cook gives me a bear hug. She has been more like a maternal aunt since I occasionally help out in the kitchen and and praise her cooking.
Thomas opens a bottle of wine and passes around the glasses. “Will you tell us the details, Lady Katherine? The odds have been great against you.”
I relate to them the entire process; Bertram fills in a few details now and then. I don’t know if it’s the alcohol or he's too exuberant, but when I finish telling them the story, Bertram reaches for Amelie. He picks her up and swings her round and round, until she yells at him.
“Bertram! Put me down this instant! I am not a sack of potatoes!”
“I love potatoes,” Bertram says inconsequentially.
Amelie crosses her arms and gives him an exasperated look. “If you had to express your joy, do it in a different way. You made me dizzy.”
“A different way?” Bertram looks uncommonly sly—an incongruity with his normal cheerful, smiling self. “Like a kiss?”
Amelie blushes; the pink flush spreading over her cheeks makes her look even prettier. “Just because we have gone driving in the park a few times does not mean you can take liberties whenever you want, you idiot.”
Bertram looks crestfallen. The next second, Amelie rises on tiptoe, pecks his cheek, and hurries off.
Oh my God. Amelie might as well have cast a stunning spell on Bertram. He looks like his brain had stopped functioning, and his face is so red, it’s adorable.
“Do you have a pocket watch?” I whisper to Cook. “I need to calculate how much time will pass before he snaps out of it…I mean, regains his senses.”
However, I’m not much better than Bertram. I’m so happy about Edward’s success that I keep daydreaming of the day when we’ll remarry. As a consequence, I burned the eggs and broccoli and Cook had to turn me out of the kitchen.
“You go change into something nice when His Highness gets back,” she says, shoving me out of the door. “That charcoal gray gown ought go into the bin. A future princess ought to dress better.”
I don’t bother to point out I wore a nondescript gown on purpose, as I didn’t want to attract attention in court. Anyway, I bound to the fourth floor, where Amelie shares a room with Cook, and ask her to help me dress up.
When Edward (my hero!) returns, I’ve changed into a apple-green dress trimmed with white lace. Pearls are attached to my ears and twined in my hair. By the time dinner is cleared, everyone else automatically disappears into the kitchen and other rooms, leaving us alone. I follow Edward to his room and remove the silken wrap around my shoulders, revealing a good amount of bare skin.
He sucks in a deep breath and looks away. Unperturbed, I stalk towards him, wrap my arms around his body, and press my forehead into the back of his shirt.
“Let’s ditch that rule of no sex before marriage,” I say, my fingers tracing his abs. He may not be a pro sportsman, but he definitely has a well-toned body. “We’re going to be married in three months.”
Silence. I start unbuttoning his shirt, but then his hands close over my wrists in an iron grip.
“Anything can happen before the decree absolute is issued,” he says. “Marriage is not to be taken lightly. There is a reason that the rules allow a long period of time before finalizing the divorce. It needs to be absolutely sure that the couple will not want to reunite.”
“But Katriona Bradshaw made the statement in court already. She doesn’t want to be married to you any longer. You have settled a tidy sum on her, on the condition she raises no objection after the three months have passed.”
“True. And yet…” Edward faces me, though he’s careful to maintain his distance. “I’ve found that every time when I feel optimistic of our future, something disastrous happens. I cannot feel secure until we obtain the register with our signatures.”