‘I imagine it was the same for me as for many other princes born into palaces and surrounded by unimaginable riches,’ he said. ‘There is always someone to do your bidding and I never wanted for anything.’
Except love, of course.
‘Whatever I asked for, I was given.’
But never real companionship.
‘I was schooled with other Mardovian aristocrats until the age of eighteen, when I went to school in Paris.’
Where he had tasted freedom for the first time in his life and found it irresistible. But the truth was that nothing had ever been able to fill the emptiness at the very core of him.
‘And what about your mum and dad?’
Luc flinched. He had never heard his royal parents described quite so informally, and his first instinct was to correct her and ask her to refer to them by their titles. But he slapped his instinct down, because a lesson in palace protocol would not serve him well at this moment. Not when she was looking at him with that unblinking gaze which was making his heart clench with something he didn’t recognise.
‘Like you, my mother died when I was very young.’
‘I’m sorry for your loss,’ she said instantly and there was a pause. ‘Did your father remarry?’
He shook his head. ‘No.’ His father had been locked in his own private world of grief—oblivious to the fact that a small boy was hurting and desperately missing his mother. Unable to look at the child who so resembled his dead wife, he had channelled that grief into duty—pouring all his broken-hearted passion into serving his country. And leaving the care of his son to the stream of governesses employed to look after him.
‘I don’t think he considered anyone could ever take the place of my mother,’ he continued slowly and he felt a twist of pain. Because hadn’t he witnessed his father’s emotional dependence on the woman who had died—and hadn’t it scared him to see such a powerful person diminished by the bitterness of heartbreak?
‘How old were you?’
‘Four,’ he said flatly.
‘So who looked after you?’
‘Governesses.’ Even the sound of the word sent shivers down his spine as he thought of those fierce women, so devoted to his father—who had put duty to the throne above everything else. They had taught him never to cry. Never to show weakness, or fear. They had taught him that a prince must sublimate his own desires in order to best serve his country.
‘What were they like?’
He considered Lisa’s question—about how many countless variations there were on the word cold. ‘Efficient,’ he said eventually.
She smiled a little. ‘That doesn’t tell me very much.’
‘Maybe it wasn’t supposed to.’
But still she persisted. ‘And did they show you lots of affection?’
And this, he realised, was an impossible question to answer except with the baldness of truth. ‘None whatsoever,’ he said slowly. ‘There were several of them on some sort of rotation and I think it must have been agreed that they should treat me politely and carefully. I don’t think it was intended for any of them to become a mother substitute, or for me to attach myself to anyone in particular. I suspect there was a certain amount of competitiveness between them and they were unwilling to tolerate me having a fav
ourite.’
‘Oh, Luc.’ Did she notice his faint frown, intended to discourage further questioning? Was that why she deliberately brightened her tone?
‘You were lucky,’ she added. ‘At least you didn’t have the proverbial wicked stepmother to deal with.’
He looked into her eyes. Was he? Was anyone ever really ‘lucky’? You worked with what you had and fashioned fate to suit you.
He sensed she was softening towards him and that filled him with satisfaction. He had played his part with his restraint—now let her play hers. Let her admit that she wanted him. He gave a grim smile.
Because you made your own luck in life.
CHAPTER NINE
THE MAY BALL was the biggest event in the palace calendar, and Lisa planned her first formal introduction to the people of Mardovia with the precision of a military campaign. She ordered a bolt of crimson silk satin and made a gown specially designed to showcase the ruby and diamond necklace from the royal collection.