Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 22425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 112(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 112(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
Edward raises his glass.
“I think she’s completely delightful. An excellent match for you in every way.”
Thomas nods softly. Then he turns his attention to me.
“I know you’ve been checking up on her, Mother. And since I’ve brought her here for Christmas to meet you, I suspect you already know what I’m going to ask next.”
There are few pleasures in life as sublime as seeing your child truly happy.
“But I want to hear you ask anyway. Indulge me.”
Thomas smiles. “I want to propose to Calista on Christmas Day. And I want to do it with Grandmother Anna’s ring. I know the ring means a lot to you. It will be a sign to the press and the public that she has your highest approval.”
“And you’re certain, my boy? You only get to do this once, you know.”
Thomas nods, his voice solemn and slightly astounded. “I love her. I love her more than I ever thought it was possible to love anyone. I love her so much . . . sometimes I wish she’d leave me.”
“Why would you say that?” I ask. “She’s lucky to have you.”
“Yes, but it’s not just me she’s getting. It’s all the rest that comes with me.” He gestures to his father and me, and then around the room. “With us. And sometimes . . . I think about how life would be so much simpler for her—better—if she had fallen for an average man. And I love her so much, I want that for her. A life without all the . . . baggage.”
“Your mother came with the same baggage as you.” Edward’s dark-green gaze alights on me tenderly. “And there’s never been a moment that I’ve regretted marrying her.”
Even being born the heir to a throne, I didn’t consider myself truly blessed—truly fortunate—until the day Edward came into my life.
And I have every single day since.
“I’ll have Mother’s ring brought here tomorrow,” I tell my son.
His smile is wide and full. “Thank you.”
He takes a sip of his brandy.
“Now that that’s settled,” I say, “on to more logistical matters. Is Calista still a virgin?”
Thomas coughs—choking on his drink.
“Mum!”
“What?” I glance at Edward. “What did I say?”
Before he can answer, Thomas asks, “Do you have any understanding of how inappropriate that question is?”
“Well, given your position, it’s a perfectly valid question. There’s no need to be squeamish. It’s not as if I’m asking to . . . what’s the expression, Edward? Get my stones off?”
“Rocks, Lenora,” Edward chuckles. “You’re not asking to get your rocks off.”
“Precisely.”
But Thomas is still affronted.
“All right then, tell me—were you a virgin when you and Dad married?”
I blink at him.
“I don’t see what that has to do with anything. I’m a queen—the law doesn’t care who sired you, as long as I’m the one who bore you.”
“Fun fact.” Edward nods.
“But since you asked, yes, I was a virgin.” And then, in the spirit of openness and full disclosure, I add, “Technically.”
Thomas groans, covering his ears.
“No. Never mind. I don’t want to know—you cannot imagine how much I don’t want to know.”
When it seems safe, Thomas lowers his hands and sighs.
“Yes, Calista is a virgin. Technically. Are you satisfied now?”
“Quite.” I nod. “It will make things much easier going forward.”
“I’m aware.”
“And now I’m off to bed.” I stand, giving my son a peck on the cheek. “Good night, darling.”
“I’ll be up shortly,” Edward tells me.
As I leave the room, I hear my son laugh with exasperation.
“For God’s sake, Dad.”
My husband laughs as well. “Count your blessings. It could’ve been much worse.”
On the morning of Christmas Eve, Calista joins me in the stables and we set off for our ride. It’s a beautiful day, my favorite kind—no wind and the air so crisp the horses exhale tiny white clouds with every breath.
Calista is an accomplished rider, in form and stamina. After warming up the horses with a gallop across the field, we slow to a walk and speak easily.
“My son tells me you’re studying music at University?”
“Yes, Queen Lenora. I adore everything about music—listening to it, learning the history of it, and I dearly love to play.”
“What is your favorite instrument?”
She thinks for a moment, her lower lip clasped between pearly teeth.
“I can’t choose just one. It’s a tie, between the violin and the piano.”
“Thomas had violin lessons as a child.”
“Yes, he tried playing for me once.” She glances at me sideways and her voice lowers, as if she’s telling a dirty secret. “He was very, very bad at it.”
She giggles. And I laugh with her—because the sound is infectious. There’s a genuineness about her, a goodness that radiates from her, that I’m not sure I’ve ever encountered before.
It makes me like her immensely. But more than that—it makes me want her for my son. Eager for her to wrap him in her goodness, to surround him in her gentle loveliness.