His Majesty's Mistake
“I’d love to wear it,” Emmeline interrupted him, taking the garment bag from him. It was surprisingly heavy. Must have a huge skirt. “But you didn’t have to bring it here yourself. You could have sent it with one of the maids in the morning.”
“I know. Claire said the same thing, but I wanted to see you. To make sure you were okay.”
“Come in,” she repeated, carrying the garment bag to the bed.
“I shall go,” Makin said, “and let you two talk.” He dropped another kiss on Emmeline’s lips before walking out, closing the door quietly behind him.
William stood in the middle of the room, hands in his pockets. “My timing is terrible.”
“I’m glad you’re here. There are so many things I’d like to know.”
“I imagine there are.” He hesitated. “I know it sounds cruel, what my parents did, sending Jacqueline away to give birth. But they were old-fashioned, and they’d been raised in a time where unplanned pregnancies were hushed. Covered up. They thought they were doing the right thing. They truly believed they were protecting Jacqueline. They had no idea it would turn out the way it did.”
“I don’t remember my grandparents as cruel,” she said, sitting down on the bed next to the garment bag.
“They weren’t,” he agreed. “And losing Jacqueline destroyed them. She was their baby. They never recovered from her death. After the funeral, Father moved to the dowager’s château on the edge of the city, and Mother remained here to be close to you.”
“Did Grandmother spend time with me?” Emmeline asked.
“She did. In the beginning. She was with you almost every day. Claire had to fight her for you. They had terrible rows—” He broke off, laughed as he sat down heavily, but the laugh sounded like pain. “I’m so sorry. Emmeline, we got it all wrong. We just tried to protect Jacquie, and then you, and it didn’t work. The truth is so much better. Remember that.”
She nodded, thinking that this was the time to tell him. He’d opened the door for her, created trust. Now all she had to do was tell the truth and confess that Makin wasn’t her baby’s father, that Alejandro Ibanez was, tell him that with Alejandro gone, Makin had offered for her out of some misguided sense of duty.
She knew her father would free her of the engagement. He couldn’t possibly insist on her marrying Makin once he knew the truth.
But before she could find the right words to break the news, William reached for her hand and he carried it to his cheek. “You don’t know how happy I am for you.” He squeezed her fingers, overcome by gratitude. “It means so much to me that you have what your mother never had. The opportunity to marry the man you love, to have a normal life … or as normal as you can as a princess.”
Emmeline’s throat sealed closed as she watched the emotions—pain, relief, hope—pass one by one over his lined face. He’d had a far harder life than she’d ever imagined. “It’s difficult to have a normal life when you’re a royal, isn’t it?” she said to him.
“It is. Especially when you’re as beautiful as you are.” He kissed her forehead. “I’m glad you have Makin. He’s not the sort to indulge in make-believe. You can rest assured he’s marrying you for all the right reasons. Now get some sleep, my dear. Good night.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
MAKIN watched Emmeline walk down the palace chapel on her father’s arm. King William wore his black royal uniform, a military dress coat from when he’d served in the Brabant Air Force as a twenty-year-old. His posture was as erect and proud as if he were still a military man.
But it was Emmeline who held Makin’s attention, Emmeline who took his breath away in her mother’s white debutante gown with a tiara on top of her golden head.
More ivory than ice-white, the strapless, heart-shaped bodice hugged her breasts and rib cage before nipping in dramatically at Emmeline’s small waist. The very full silk skirt was covered in a pleated swirling pattern made to look like overblown roses, with the beaded ivory silk flowers growing larger as they moved toward the hem. The skirt’s pleated silk caught the light and created shadows. Makin didn’t think she could have picked a more beautiful gown to be married in.
For Emmeline, the brief wedding ceremony passed in a blur of sound and motion. There was the sound of the organ playing something too loud and bright. She and her father walked down the chapel aisle, the pews empty except for her mother in the front and the bishop waiting at the altar with Makin.
She felt her father kiss her and then give her hand to Makin. She heard the bishop’s voice, and then heard Makin saying words, repeating the vows. She repeated the same vows. The bishop spoke again and then there was the exchange of rings. Makin lifted her veil and kissed her on the lips.