His Majesty's Mistake

And it was done.

They were married.

There was an even briefer gathering after, consisting of wedding cake and champagne. Emmeline had a sip of champagne and a couple of bites of cake but couldn’t eat or drink more than that.

She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the Gold Drawing Room mirror, seeing the swish of her full silk skirt from the back and the small, corseted waist. The dress hadn’t needed to be altered a bit. It fitted Emmeline perfectly, which meant she and her mother had been the same size. Small. Slender. Elegant.

Emmeline suddenly wanted out of the dress, away from Brabant. This was the old life. She was ready for the next.

“Have you had enough cake and champagne?” she asked Makin.

His gaze held hers a moment, the silver depths warm. “Yes.”

“I have, too. I’m going to go change.”

“I’ll call my flight crew, let them know we’ll soon be on the way.”

Upstairs, Emmeline had nearly finished changing into traveling clothes—a trim designer suit in taupe and pink. She’d just slid her heels on and was putting in the first of her pearl earrings when her bedroom door opened and closed.

Emmeline turned around to find her mother standing awkwardly by the door. “I came to offer my help, but you’ve already changed,” Claire said crisply.

“Yes,” Emmeline agreed, attaching the other earring. “Everything’s packed. Just need to switch out my purse and I’m ready to go.”

“Have you rung for someone to take your bags?”

“The maid did.”

“Do you need … any money, or anything … before you go?” Emmeline’s lips curved but the rest of her face felt hard. “No. Makin’s loaded. He’ll take care of everything.”

“Emmeline!”

Emmeline’s eyes burned, and she swallowed with effort, her throat aching with suppressed emotion. “What do you expect me to say, Mother? Two days ago you made it perfectly clear how you felt about me. That I was an embarrassment, a problem, nothing short of a failure—”

“I never called you a failure!”

“But an embarrassment and a problem.”

The queen took a slow breath. “You haven’t been an easy child.”

“But I’m not a child, Mother. I’m twenty-five. a woman who is going to have a child, and I can promise you this, I will never tell my child that he or she is a problem or an embarrassment. What a horrible thing for a mother to say to her daughter.”

“I was caught off guard.”

“Apparently you’re always caught off guard.”

Silence descended in the room, twilight casting long shadows across the bedroom floor, turning the rose-patterned carpet into shades of lavender and gray.

Claire cleared her throat, and again. “Perhaps I haven’t been the best mother,” she said after a moment. “But I tried. I did. I realize now it wasn’t enough. You were always so emotional, so needy—”

“Not again.” Emmeline closed her eyes at the familiar refrain.

“Hear me out. I don’t express things well, Emmeline. I’m not good with words like you are. I’m not comfortable sharing my feelings. I never have been. But that doesn’t mean I don’t. love … you.”

“Hard word for you to say, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve never heard you say love before.” Emmeline locked her knees, lifted her chin. Today she would not fall apart. She would not leave in pieces. “You’ve never once told me you loved me.”

“Because it wasn’t necessary. I was your mother. You were my daughter—”

“And children like tenderness. They like affection. I craved it, Mother. Morning, noon and night.”

“I know. You have such strong emotions, you feel everything so intensely. Just like your mother.” Her voice quavered. “Everybody loved your mother. Her death devastated your grandparents. It broke William’s heart, too, because he was Jacqueline’s big brother. He adored her. That’s why he wanted you.”

“And you didn’t.”

“No, Emmie, I did. I wanted you and I tried my best with you, but you were inconsolable as an infant. You cried for the first six months of your life, day and night. Your grandmother was always reaching for you, wanting to comfort you, and I’d tell her no, that you were my daughter and I wanted to hold you. And I did. I used to walk with you in the nursery, back and forth, for hours. William would come up at two in the morning and he’d see me with you, and he’d tell me to come to bed. But I wouldn’t. I was so determined to be a good mother. I was so determined to find a way to make you love me.” She broke off, tears filling her eyes. “You never did.”