Marrying the Rebel Prince: Your invitation to the most uplifting romantic royal wedding of 2018!. Janet Gover
gift.’
‘The artist fell in love with her?’
‘And she with him.’
‘You can see it,’ Lauren said. ‘Every line of the painting sings of love.’
‘More than love. Great passion that would last a lifetime.’ Nicolas’s voice was soft and deep.
Lauren saw it too. ‘What happened?’
‘Well, Sophia’s father took one look at the portrait and had the painter exiled. The portrait was never sent. The crown prince married elsewhere.’
‘And Sophia?’
‘She was hustled off rather smartly to wed the Grand Duke – an older man who was greatly in debt to Sophia’s father. The wedding was held in the provinces. Quite a small affair. The Grand Duke and his new wife remained at their country estate for more than a year, before returning to court with their new son.’
‘I see,’ Lauren said.
‘Indeed. He was to be their only child. His descendants have occasionally been noted for some artistic leanings.’
‘Poor Sophia, how unhappy she must have been.’
‘True. But the role of royal children has always been to secure the kingdom. The oldest rules; the younger siblings are married off. A royal wedding is marginally cheaper than war, and more likely to result in a lasting alliance.’
Lauren chuckled. ‘I’ll bet you are glad things have changed.’
‘Well, my portrait is definitely not a betrothal gift.’
‘What happened to the artist?’ Lauren asked.
‘I’ve tried to find other work by him, but it appears nothing else survives. Legend says he died penniless and alone in some freezing garret: the penalty for falling in love where he should not have.’
‘Oh, but this one portrait has given him some kind of immortality. Sophia too. The painting captures her spirit. The joy she found in life, and in love.’
‘You know, when I was a boy, I think I was just a little bit in love with her, even though she was my great-great-whatever.’ Prince Nicolas sounded embarrassed by his confession as he looked away from the woman at his side, to the one on the wall.
Lauren cast a sideways glance at the prince. The close confines of the alcove had given their conversation a kind of intimacy that was at once gratifying and disturbing. Did he feel it too?
‘Anyway, I wanted to show you this.’ Prince Nicolas turned his gaze from Sophia back to Lauren. ‘It’s the one portrait in the gallery that I really like. I thought it might help you to know that.’
Lauren stepped back, ostensibly to get a better view of the painting, but in reality she needed to put some space between herself and the prince. She needed to start breathing again. ‘It does help,’ she said.
Lauren hadn’t heard the footsteps, and gave a little cry when Courtauld suddenly spoke close by her side.
‘Your Royal Highness?’
‘Yes, Courtauld?’ Prince Nicolas seemed not at all surprised by his servant’s sudden appearance.
‘Your meeting with the press office. They are waiting.’
‘Of course. Miss Phelps and I were discussing portraits. I told her about the scandal surrounding my great-aunt Sophia.’
‘The Grand Duchess of Kautenstein.’ Courtauld fell into place behind his prince, as the three of them moved away from Sophia’s portrait.
‘Yes, married off in such haste,’ said Prince Nicolas. ‘Perhaps it’s a good thing there are so few princesses on the marriage market today, else I might suffer a similar fate.’
‘I doubt that, sir.’
‘You never know, Courtauld, Miss Phelps might fall passionately in love with me.’
‘I think Miss Phelps far too sensible to do such a thing, sir.’
Lauren’s head was spinning. The intimacy of such a short time before had fallen away as if it had never been. The thoughtful, sensitive man who had shared his ideas with her was gone, and in his place stood a haughty and arrogant prince, whose cynical tone left an unpleasant taste in her mouth.
The march down the long gallery seemed even longer than it had on her first day in the palace, but at last they paused by the prince’s office door.
‘Miss Phelps, you did say you wanted to observe me at my work.’ The prince was bland courtesy personified. ‘This meeting is just with staff, a matter of no real importance, but you are most welcome to observe if it would be of any use to you.’
‘Yes. Yes. Thank you. I’ll just collect my pad and pencils.’ Lauren almost fled.
For the first part of the meeting, Lauren tried hard to ignore the conversation and concentrate on her sketch pad, but her mental barriers were not working. Voices kept breaking through. Snatches of sentences, but enough for her to understand what was under discussion. After all, she had seen it in her living room that morning.
The two men from the palace press office were not impressed by the recent coverage the prince had attracted.
‘Should we consider speaking to the Press Council?’ The question came from the younger aide.
‘And what exactly would that achieve?’ The prince made no attempt to hide his distaste for the suggestion. ‘Any request for special consideration for me would simply be another headline for the next day.’
From her seat across the room, Lauren could only agree with him.
‘Of course, sir.’ This from the older man. ‘You are right.’
‘This sort of rubbish is of no consequence.’
‘I beg to differ, sir.’ The junior officer was not cowed. ‘It reflects badly on the entire royal family. I’m sure Her Majesty would prefer …’
‘Don’t you presume to tell me what Her Majesty would prefer.’ The royal voice was icy cold. ‘My mother is perfectly capable of expressing her opinions herself.’
‘Of course, sir. I was merely going to point out that it might be helpful for you to restrict your attendance at certain functions.’
‘Are you suggesting that the paparazzi and tabloid papers should dictate the behaviour of a royal prince?’ Every drop of his blue blood was evident in the prince’s voice.
‘Of course not, sir. But …’ The adviser’s voice trailed off under the glare from the other side of the big oak desk.
‘Then perhaps a review of security might be in order.’ This comment from the older press aide produced a murmur of agreement.
Lauren tried hard to tune out the voices, focusing her attention on the pad in front of her. The sketching wasn’t going very well. She had begun with a broad sketch of the desk, and the group of figures around it. When she tried to add detail on the central figure, her hand faltered.
She had drawn the details of the ornate carving on a picture frame.
She had drawn a doorway flanked by two grand royal portraits.
She had even drawn, from memory, the alcove containing the portrait of Princess Sophia.
She had not drawn Prince Nicolas.
With a silent sigh, she turned to a clean page. Taking a firm grip on her pen, and her mind, she looked across the room. The prince was leaning back in his chair, his eyes almost closed, taking no part in the conversation around him. He looked tired. There were lines around his eyes that she hadn’t noticed before.
Lauren’s hand started to move across the page. The line of his shoulder, the tilt of his head. Then the prince opened his eyes and leaned