Quincy shrugged. “I hope you have coffee with you.”
Pascal took the serving tray from the other servant and politely asked him to leave. He walked to Quincy and set the tray down on the table before pouring him a steaming cup of coffee. “Did you have a difficult night, sir? All seemed in order when I saw you off last night.”
“I’ve had to do some thinking,” he said. “None of it good.”
“I am sorry to see you so glum about your own wedding, sir.” Pascal sat down in the opposite chair. “If there is anything I can do to help?”
“Yes, tell my father I need to speak with him today. I’ve made my decision.”
“Very well, sir. I shall tell him at once.” Pascal got up and walked to the door. When he reached it, he turned back. “I am sorry, sir. I wish things had worked out differently for you.”
“So do I, Pascal, so do I.”
Chapter 15
Olivia didn’t see Quincy all day, and she was too worried about Allete catching her if she said she needed to see him urgently. So she waited and waited all day for him to come out of conference with King Lamont. That didn’t happen until dinner when she couldn’t even speak to him alone.
He greeted her as always when she took her seat across from him at the small dining table, but there was no light in his eyes and he didn’t look at her. King Lamont, on the other hand, looked more pleased than she’d seen him in a long time, and her heart sank. She knew what had happened before he cleared his throat to make the announcement to her and Melinda.
“As you know, ladies, my son and I have been in conference all day,” Lamont said. “He has made his official decision on who he will choose as his wife. Lady Gigi Pentacraft. The wedding will take place one month after ours.”
“How wonderful,” Melinda exclaimed and reached out to pat Quincy’s hand. “You must be thrilled.”
“I am,” he murmured, but Olivia knew he faked it for her mother and the king. “I think it’s time to finally settle down and do what I must. Gigi will make a wonderful queen when the time comes.”
“Yes, she will,” Lamont agreed.
Olivia forced her lips to curl into a smile to hide how horribly her heart was breaking. “Congratulations, Quincy. That’s fantastic news.”
“Thank you,” he replied formally and lifted his glass to her in a toast. She hated how he sounded, and he still wouldn’t meet her eye. “I believe father has some news for you, too.”
Her mother grinned. “I know what this is about.”
“What’s going on?” Olivia asked. Her hands twisted nervously in her lap. She nudged Quincy’s foot under the table, but he didn’t acknowledge her. “Am I in trouble?”
“On the contrary. I have been approached by Edric, and though you are not yet my daughter by marriage, he has asked for permission to court you,” Lamont said. “He has become quite infatuated with you, my dear.”
“Is that so?” She struggled to retain her smile.
“You can say no if you like, but I think he would be an excellent gentleman for you to get to know before you return to Nebraska. If you return,” Lamont said, lifting a finger on the word if. “You can give me your decision in the morning, and we can make it official.”
Olivia nodded in thanks and continued eating her dinner, but the fish no longer looked appetizing and the wine upset her stomach. She set her fork down and gulped her water, hoping the feeling would go away, but it only grew worse.
“Hon, are you alright? You look pale,” Melinda asked.
“I’m feeling a bit sick suddenly,” she said. “Think it’s a bug.”
“Do you want to go to bed early?”
“Yes, I think I might, Mom. Will you excuse me?” she said to Lamont and Quincy and hurried from the dining hall. She hurried down the corridor, nodding politely to servants and bodyguards she passed on her way to her room. She barely made it to the toilet in time before she was sick, losing what little dinner she’d managed to eat.
When she was finished, her face covered in a cold sweat and stomach still uneasy, she sat back against the wall in the bathroom. This wasn’t right. She didn’t feel sick, just off, and there was a fluttering lower in her stomach. She’d never felt anything like it before.
“Olivia? Can I come in?” Quincy called from the hall.
She tried to stand, but that only made her sick again. While she hugged the toilet, she heard the door open and steps before someone was there, pressing a cold cloth to her forehead and rubbing her back.
“You don’t need to see this,” she muttered between heaves.
Quincy laughed. “It’s fine, really.”
Another few times, and she felt a little better. “God, that was awful.”
“Feel better?”
“Not in the least.” She watched him sit down in the bathroom across from her and really looked at him. Worry was in his furrowed brow, but there was more there than just that. “You did what you had to do,” she said quietly. “This morning was too close.”