“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.
Azalea decided that these next few days were going to be very lonely ones for Mr. Hyette.
“You are all to entertain Mr. Hyette this afternoon,” said the King. “In the gardens.”
Slates clattered onto the floor.
Five minutes later, the girls stood at the open kitchen door, blinking in the brilliant overcast light. The smell of lilacs, roses, sweet peas, and honeysuckle mixed with the scent of crisp late summer leaves. None of them had been in the gardens for nine months, and the bright saturated greens, reds, and violets overwhelmed them. It reminded Azalea of Mother, beautiful and bright, thick with scents and excitement. And the King—he was like the palace behind them, all straights and grays, stiff and symmetrical and orderly.
“It’s really allowed?” said Flora, her eyes alight at the colors.
“Allowed allowed?” said Goldenrod.
“For the last time,” said the King, pushing them gently out the kitchen door and onto the path. “It is Royal Business! Go on. Get some color in your cheeks.”
The younger girls screeched and ran off into the bushes. Bramble, Clover, and the other girls rushed after and gathered them back, reminding them of Section Five—Rules in the Gardens. Vast and sprawling, the gardens were so big it took nearly an hour to walk all the way around them, and young ones could get lost if they wandered off the brick paths. Azalea made to follow after them, through the trellised walkway, but a strong hand took her and held her back. Mr. Hyette.
“I say,” he said, smiling his very white smile and pulling her a touch closer. “You don’t look half bad in the sunlight. It brings out a perky red in your hair.”
“Oh, honestly,” said Azalea, trying to tug her hand away gently. “Mr. Hyette, please.”
“You don’t find me handsome?”
“No.”
Mr. Hyette’s smile faded.
“Now see here,” he said. “You certainly have no right to be picky. Everyone knows the point of this silly riddle is to find the future King.”
“Well—so what?” said Azalea. She tried pulling her hand free again.
“So your father had to advertise for suitors. And after meeting your rambunctious family, I can see why. Your pretty sister is the only one worth my time. However, if you are nice to me these next few days, perhaps I’ll—”
“Mr. Hyette.”
Mr. Hyette released Azalea as though he had been shot. The King still stood in the kitchen doorway, giving Mr. Hyette a cold, icy look. Azalea gratefully ran to him.
“Mr. Hyette, go away,” said the King. “Azalea—a word.”
Mr. Hyette, petulant, stormed down the path. The King made to say something, and for the first time in Azalea’s life, he looked uncomfortable. He looked as though his insides had curled into an overspun thread, twisting on itself.
“Azalea,” he said finally, “as this charade progresses, you will tell me if you are…fond…of any of the gentlemen?”
Azalea stared at him, a hot blush rising to her cheeks.