The Controversial Princess (Smoke & Mirrors Duet #1)(11)
“Spearmint, after his great, great, great, great grandfather.”
I scan the stallion, estimating him to stand maybe sixteen hands high, and he has a white sock on his right foreleg. “Hello, Spearmint.” I stroke his nose, and he snorts and shakes his head. The crowd bursts into rapturous laughter, applauding Spearmint’s hello to me. I smile, overcome with happiness.
“Let us get him back to the stables,” my father says, as Sabina, who also happens to be Haydon’s grandmother, smiles at me. She’s a wonderful woman, her passion for horses equal to mine. She has taken care of the royal horses for years. “Look after him,” I tell her pointlessly. Of course she will. “I’ll come by soon to see him.”
“Enjoy the rest of your birthday, Your Highness,” Sabina orders softly, taking Spearmint’s reins. She kisses my cheek sweetly and leads my new horse away, his hooves clicking the granite pathway as he goes. I watch until I can no longer see his well-groomed tail swishing as he rounds the corner, back to the front courtyard.
“You lucky thing,” Uncle Stephan says as he joins me. “A thoroughbred gifted by the King is not to be sniffed at.”
“I know.” I turn into my uncle, who prefers to devote most of his time to painting rather than the equestrian side of royal life.
“I see something else that is not to be sniffed at.” Stephan flicks his head past me, and I look over my shoulder to find Josh Jameson studying me so very closely. He taps the face of his watch again, reminding me that I have an unofficial engagement I am now late for.
I blink and sink my teeth into my bottom lip as I return my attention to Uncle Stephan. “Do you know who he is?” I ask as nonchalantly as I can.
“Who doesn’t?” He brings his face close to mine, a wicked twinkle in his eyes behind his spectacles. “If you can’t behave, be disgraceful,” he whispers.
My small gasp is fake, and Uncle Stephan knows it. “I really don’t know what you are talking about.”
“Dear niece, remember who you are trying to fool.” He kisses my cheek. “If you will not be disgraceful with him, then I most certainly will.”
“You are terrible.”
“Don’t tell anyone.” He meanders off to join his wife, and I stand alone, thinking for a few moments. My brashness toward Josh Jameson is forgotten as I ponder my intentions. Why I am now questioning them is beyond me, yet I am. He is not like any other man I have known, and not only because he’s more famous than God. I watch him casually break away from the group of people he’s talking to, take a bottle of champagne from the table nearby, as well as two glasses, and head for the arch that will take him to the path toward the far side of Claringdon Palace. Just before he disappears from view, he looks over his shoulder and flicks his head in gesture for me to get a move on. It’s a demand. I don’t bow to demands. But, and I’m confused as to why, my feet come to life of their own volition, adrenalin starting to course through my veins. I walk, feeling unstable and shaky, something that is alien to me, too. How does he elicit such reactions from me and so very easily? It’s so very intriguing. He’s confident, cocky, and unfazed by my royal status. It is rather refreshing.
I scan the scatterings of people as I fall away from the activity, seeing my father taking charge of a game of croquet and my mother entertaining a group of ladies by the string quartet. Everyone seems distracted from my silent escape. Then I spot Eddie, who is talking to Haydon. I come to a stop beside the statue of a plump angel that’s peeing water through his rather unimpressive penis. Haydon’s back is to me, though my brother is facing my direction, and his eyes are dividing their attention between Haydon and me. Did Eddie see Josh Jameson wander this way a moment ago? I press my lips together and hold my breath as Haydon makes to turn toward me, maybe wondering what has Eddie’s split attention. But my brother takes his arm and laughs, pointing toward the King who has just declared croquet war on Haydon’s father. They start walking to the grass playing court, volunteering their skills, and Eddie looks back at me, shaking his head so very mildly. He knows how I feel about Haydon Sampson, and though he doesn’t entirely condone many of my activities, he understands why I don’t want to be married to a man who I have no feelings for beyond friendship. I mouth my thank you and back up, passing through the arch that will take me to something both scandalous and illicit.
And hopefully something wonderful.
THE WHOLE WALK TO THE far end of the grounds is spent jumping between sureness and reluctance, my steps faltering one too many times for my liking. My self-assuredness has never been dented by a man, and I’m uncertain as to whether I love or loathe the notion.
When I reach the maze of conifers, I stop and have a stern word with myself, telling my nerves to pull themselves together and welcome this unexpected birthday gift. Weaving the maze, I momentarily wonder if Josh found his way to the center, or if he is lost somewhere amid the trees, finding dead ends or taking wrong turns that will disorientate him. The thought makes me smile. When I was a child, this maze felt colossal, and I spent hours running the labyrinth of paths trying to navigate my way to the middle. Now, I know exactly what route I need to take in order to get me there the quickest.
I breach the final opening and see the statue of my grandfather, my father’s father, King Harold of England. He’s tall, imposing, made of solid marble, and his face is stern. He was stern, high-handed and strict with his children, as well as his grandchildren. A summons to his office meant trouble and was cause to tremble. Which I often did as a child. His robe, the Pallium Regale, is long and lavish, the scepter held lightly in his hand, Saint Edward’s Crown perched on his large head. The entire statue is intimidating.