Chapter One
From the Epilogue of The Gentlemen’s Agreement
“You have to choose someone soon.” Tristan, Lord of Middlethorp and Crown Prince Rupert of Simigile’s companion at the coronation wasn’t saying anything Rupert didn’t know.
“My father’s hosting his annual hunt in just three weeks. After that we’ve got a glorious week of hunting at the Huffington Estate to look forward to. The next three months are filled with events you and I enjoy, and we’re stuck here in Monce.”
“We’re not stuck in Monce,” Rupert snapped, making sure he kept his tone low. The last thing he needed was for his father to hear he’d behaved inappropriately at one of the biggest events of the year. “I didn’t even want to come here. Father insisted I attend the coronation on his behalf.”
“He also told you, you’re not allowed back in Simigile until you’ve got a signed marriage contract under your belt. We might not be stuck in Monce, but we can’t go home, either. And don’t think I missed you mooning over King Consort Jaq. You were a fool to rescind your contract with him, and you know it.”
“I don’t moon over anyone,” Rupert reminded his friend sharply, taking a quick swig of his whiskey. “I didn’t even want to get married in the first place, but Father’s getting pushy. Honestly,” he waved a hand at the guests who were mingling in their finest clothes. “Who would want to deal with this rubbish? I had every right to rescind my contract for Prince Jaq before he got snared by Serron. He was rude to me, not even bothering to turn up for our appointment.”
Rupert didn’t mention how he’d even hired a person to abduct the prince before the marriage. That secret he’d take to the grave. Suffice to say, once Rupert read that the wedding was finalized, he paid the man off and told him to move countries.That wasn’t mooning, that was me trying to help an innocent.If he kept saying that long enough, he’d believe it.
“That might be the case with Prince Jaq at the time.” Tristan leaned closer to him. “But he can’t have been that rude. In case you didn’t notice, your Prince Jaq has got two husbands who seem very attentive and cozy with him, while you’re stuck not even being able to go home unless you’ve got a signed marriage contract.”
Rupert took another drink from his glass and then sighed. Tristan wasn’t the only one who wanted to go home and have his life go back to normal. “You know,” he said, as he got the glimmer of an idea, “it would teach my father a lesson if I married someone totally unsuitable and took them home.”
“A commoner?” Tristan looked appalled.
“Of course not. I’m not Serron. I don’t know how the hell that one managed to sway the World Council to accept a second consort, especially someone who used to work in the markets, but as far as I’m concerned, Serron is welcome to the headaches that come from having a spouse, or two, would cause.”
“From what I’ve picked up from the gossip around here, it was Prince Jaq who petitioned the council to accept Patin as a second consort. Apparently, he’s the one with all the brains between the three.”
Rupert shuddered. “Another reason I was glad my marriage to him didn’t go through. The last thing I want is a spouse who’s going to talk my ear off every day, boring me with policy and research garbage. The only reason I considered Prince Jaq at all is because I was told he barely socialized, and he was quiet and shy. It was you who told me that. Now look at him, flaunting his relationship as if it were normal.
“And see? Didn’t I tell you there was more to Serron and Patin’s friendship than they were admitting publicly? You can’t tell me two men could dance together the way they did tonight if they haven’t been sneaking off together for freaking years.”
“It sounds like you were right, but that doesn’t help us with our little problem now.” Tristan leaned back in his chair and sniffed. “You need a spouse – man or woman, your father said that didn’t matter. All they need is royal blood. I don’t think your father was particularly impressed with King Serron and his two consorts business, either.”
“Royal blood, hmm.” Rupert tapped his lip with his glass as he scanned the crowds. Because he had royal status, he was seated with the other royal guests on a stage, raised about a foot above the regular seating for the Monce society families. The height of the stage and his own tall stature gave him an advantage.
Most of the royals Rupert dismissed because they were already married. Rupert was also determined he wasn’t going to tie himself to someone who had equal status to his own. That didn’t give him any leverage in pre-marriage negotiations. “What I need is someone small…”
“What is your thing for shorter men?” Tristan complained. “They’re not going to want to join you on the hunts, go camping, or do any of the things we enjoy.”
“My point exactly.” Rupert put his glass down. “I’ve tried doing things Father’s way, but telling me I can’t go home without a spouse was the last straw. He said I had to get married. He didn’t say I had to live with that person, travel with that person, or court that person. My gifts just get returned anyway.”
“I told you those garters and keepsakes weren’t suitable gifts for someone you’d refused.”
“Any gift from me should be appreciated. But no, I’m not doing any of that nonsense anymore. If Father wants me to have a spouse, then I’ll have one. They can keep Father company while you and I are hunting. I just need to find someone suitable, or not, whatever the case might be. Who’s that?” Rupert pointed to a shorter man with long blond hair, a trim build, and finely sculpted facial features. The man was laughing at something that Queen Evangaline from Tyrion was saying.
“Hmm.” Tristan squinted in the direction of Rupert’s finger. “I think that’s Prince Winter from…he’s from…Martingale. That’s right, Martingale. That little country that sits at the foot of the Dragon Mountains.”
Rupert wrinkled his nose. “He’s not a dragon rider, is he?”
“Goodness, no. I think he does something for the World Council, but I haven’t got a clue what. He’s probably a glorified pen pusher. From memory, the Martingale royal family has a lot of children. Prince Winter is a spare, spare, spare heir, I think.”
“So, a royal with no real position. Perfect.” Rupert smiled for the first time that evening. “Send a missive to the Martingale royal family in the morning and let them know I have graciously decided to take Prince Winter as my spouse. I expect him to arrive at the Simigile Castle in two weeks’ time for the ceremony.”
Tristan looked at him sideways. “You could just go over and talk to him, ask him yourself.”
“Nope. I’m going to bed.” Rupert drained the last of his drink and put the glass on the table. “We can set off for Simigile as soon as the contract is signed.”
“You’re not going to talk to him at all?”
“And give him a reason to reject me? Not this time. No talking, no gifts, no nothing. This is purely a marriage of convenience. I don’t need to get to know the man.”
