“What?” Azalea cried.
Bramble took the paper from Azalea’s hands and read it herself. Confusion, then anger, passed over her. The younger girls whined to see what the fuss was.
“Oh, we shall see about this!” said Bramble, brandishing the paper. She marched out of the library, the girls running after. As if on cue, the entrance hall door opened, and the King stepped through. He was dripping wet from the rain. He hardly had his umbrella closed before the girls flanked him.
“What,” said Bramble, brandishing the paper in his face, “what, sir, is this?”
The King frowned, looking mildly surprised and chagrined.
“Oh,” he said. “So you have found it.”
“Of course we found it!” said Delphinium. They followed him, a swarm of bees, as he methodically removed his soaking overcoat and hat. “A ‘riddle to solve’? Balderdash!”
“How could you?”
“Now the whole country knows we dance at night!”
“If you are willing to tell me where you go,” said the King crisply, “I will be happy to rescind the advertisement. As such, however, perhaps you will think twice before you make an oath like that again.”
“But sir,” said Eve. “Don’t you already know where we go? Why turn it into R.B.?”
The King sighed and set his soaking umbrella against the hound umbrella stand.
“Because, Miss Evening Primrose,” said the King, “even I will admit we must get certain things accomplished in mourning.”
…acquaintance with the Princess Royale…
Azalea leaned against the heavy library door, hand on her stomach, trying to swallow a sick feeling. A Yuletide parlor game came to mind, one in which the gentlemen would step on slips of paper. They danced the gorlitza with whichever lady’s name was written upon it. This was worse, though; this was marriage arranging, not just a game.
Other memories came, too; the King handing Azalea the invitation and saying, The question is, how to become acquainted with gentlemen while in mourning. Years ago, when Azalea had discovered that the crown princess of Delchastire was betrothed to a prince nearly forty years her senior, Azalea had fussed with the article so much it had turned her fingers black with ink.
Mother brushed through Azalea’s hair that night, and Azalea didn’t have to say anything; Mother knew.
“Oh, goosey,” she had said. “Don’t worry so. The King would never set you with someone you weren’t fond of.”
“You’re on a king hunt!” said Bramble, bringing Azalea back to the present. The girls cornered the King against the umbrella stand, where he firmly stood his ground.
“No, no, no,” said the King, looking annoyed. “That isn’t it at all. There is method in it. You will see.”
“Mother wouldn’t have done this!” said Bramble.
“She wouldn’t have used Azalea as bait!” said Delphinium.
“Enough, enough!” said the King. “That is enough. You shall have to come to the reckoning that it is I who you have, and not your mother, and so it is. Nothing can help that. Despise me for it, as I know you all do, but when the guests arrive, we shall all be agreeable, and we shall all eat dinner together as though we are a very, very happy family! Which we are! Is that clear?”
The King’s voice ended short of a yell, silencing them.
“Excellent,” he said. He rubbed his bandaged hand over his forehead. “I look forward to having meals with you all again.”
CHAPTER 15
Three days later, just as lessons finished up and the girls stacked books and brushed off slates in the nook, the King arrived at the glass folding doors. A gentleman was with him, meticulously dressed in a deep blue suit with an extremely ruffled cravat.
“Ladies,” said the King, in his stiff, formal way. “This is Mr. Hyette. He’s a distant relative of ours. And our first guest.”
The girls broke into hushed whispers. Mr. Hyette’s eyes took in the chalk-smudged tablecloth, the wilted rosebushes, and dozing Tutor Rhamsden. His eyes grimaced, if his face did not. He eased into a smile and a bow.
“Why, these are the little princesses I’ve heard so much about,” he said, straightening. “And—ah, this is the future queen.” He stepped forward and took Clover’s hand.
Azalea flushed. The younger girls giggled. Clover blushed furiously and tried to slip her hand from his.
“N-n-no—no—not I—”
The King stepped between the gentleman and Clover, frowning and breaking their hands apart. “Mr. Hyette, indeed! This is the third eldest. She is not even of age yet!”
The younger girls giggled madly. Eve and Delphinium snorted into their grammarians. Mr. Hyette flashed a very white, straight smile.
“Forgive me,” he said. “There are so many. Will you introduce me?”
Introductions were made, sans Lily, who napped in the nursery. When the King finished the introduction with Azalea, Mr. Hyette’s eyes caught her, and his face fell.