Nodding, I accepted his terms. “You have my word.”
“Leopold is not your father’s son. The circumstances are not mine to share, but he will never ascend the throne, and therefore, neither will any of his children.”
Grandfather paused just long enough to allow the bomb he dropped to blow me away.
Had they known this all along? Was that why Leo left? Did Liam know?
Those questions faded into the background of my mind as reality sank in, and I breathed out, “I’m your backup plan.”
“You’re the spare, Lucy. You must marry well should you ever be called upon to rule.”
Fuck. This changed everything.
Grasping at straws, I tried for one last lifeline. “Liam and Amy will have children. Lots of them, if the way they look at each other in the hallways when they think no one is looking is any indication. Each of their children—and their children’s children, and so forth—will come before me.”
Grandfather glanced at a life-sized portrait of my grandmother, Queen Eleanora. She’d passed away several years ago, but it was clear that he missed her. They were the last arranged marriage our family had seen. It worked out well for them, but that didn’t mean it would for me.
“Sometimes, no matter how much you love each other, life has other plans.”
My father, Prince Adrian, was an only child. Was he implying they wanted more children and hadn’t been able? It didn’t matter. It wouldn’t change the situation I found myself in.
I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t.
Standing, the words left my mouth before I could stop them. “I’m sorry, Grandfather. This isn’t what I want for my life. I want to create, live, and love on my own terms. Family is important, but an archaic arranged marriage is a step too far. Please don’t make me choose between my love for my family and my passion. I have a feeling you won’t like the outcome.”
Turning, I walked five steps toward the door when he called out behind me, “What if you can have both?”
Halting my steps, I turned. “Excuse me?”
“If you agree to marry a man I deem worthy, I will fully support your fashion career and allow you to step away from royal duties.”
I’d always thought it would come down to my family or fashion, and now he was saying I could have both. But it came at a price. It was up to me to determine whether the cost was too steep, essentially trading one set of shackles for another. But how could I not at least hear him out if it meant obtaining what I once thought was impossible?
Returning to my chair, I sat, at least willing to hear him out. “Do you have a man in mind?”
Looking slightly pleased, Grandfather nodded. “There was a list of candidates, but I’ve narrowed it down to one with the help of your mother. His pedigree is impeccable. The second son of a local duke, he’s not in line for his own title and works as an attorney for the Crown.”
Great. I was looking for an escape, but this proposal meant being dragged back into a world I’d come to despise. Most of the nobility were my playmates and schoolmates growing up. They viewed the world as their playground because they were born into privilege. Any of them could be found pictured in the dictionary next to the definition of a God complex.
I was not compatible with that group. I worked hard, and when I found a worthy cause, I volunteered my time because it made me happy and fulfilled. Not because someone was watching to earn good publicity. They played to the cameras when I only wanted them to go away.
The men especially thought they were God’s gift to women. They were arrogant and self-absorbed, and from the stories I’d overheard in prep school, they exaggerated their sexual prowess. I had no interest in vanilla sex for the rest of my life, with some red-faced two-pump chump collapsing on top of me, with the cherry on top being the expectation that I should be thankful for the privilege. No thanks.
Crossing my arms defensively, I asked, “IfI were to agree to this, how would it work?”
“There would be a courtship, time for you to get accustomed to each other. If you deem it a good fit, we will move on to a formal engagement.”
“Timeline?”
“I would prefer you to be married by your thirtieth birthday.”
That gave me some time. I would turn twenty-nine this December.
“And if I don’t deem it a good match?”
“You will.” Grandfather’s meaning shone through those words. If I didn’t like his choice of a husband, there wouldn’t be another—the deal would be off.
I needed to make sure it was worth it. “I would be able to move full-time to Milan? Or anywhere else I choose to set up a studio?”
