The King's Bride By Arrangement - Annie West Page 0,46

a range of groups—including one that provided positive male role models to local kids, a women’s shelter and a program designed to help troubled or violent teenagers through sport and learning.

Eva paused then pointed to an hour blocked out this afternoon. ‘This isn’t colour-coded. Is it a mistake?’

Helena leaned forward. ‘No mistake. The King and the press office had a long list of suggestions for your schedule, but I added a few of my own. They’re perhaps not so worthy but I think them important.’

She paused. ‘His Majesty mentioned you needed to go shopping. I thought you might like to revisit the designer who created the dress you wore last night.’

The dress Paul had so approved of, and which had appeared in various press articles today. Paul had been right. There might not have been paparazzi photographing them while they ate, for which she was thankful, but they’d managed to get quite a few shots of Paul and Eva arriving at and leaving the restaurant.

Eva nodded. A couple more outfits would be good. She’d packed for a week’s visit, not for a month and a half, if not more. It wasn’t as if she was on a private holiday, not with this schedule. For some of the time, she’d be acting as Paul’s proxy. She had to look the part.

Eva nodded. ‘I like her designs, plus it would be good to support a local enterprise.’

‘Exactly!’ Her new assistant gave her a brilliant smile. ‘Good press for you and for the designer. It will certainly boost her business, dressing our Queen-to-be.’

Eva’s chest cramped on the words but she knew her expression didn’t give away her pain. Queen of St Ancilla was something she’d never be.

Once more she felt doubt open up inside her. Surely this schedule would cement her as a fixture in St Ancilla’s royalty? Wouldn’t that make her eventual split from Paul more difficult?

But to leave now would undo all the good yesterday’s press conference had done and she knew Paul would be immoveable. He’d flat-out refuse to end their betrothal yet.

Helena pointed to other appointments squeezed in the schedule. ‘This is an old family-run company that makes shoes. It used to be one of St Ancilla’s traditional industries but increasingly it’s under threat from cheap imports. But their shoes are of excellent quality and I thought...’

Eva laughed. ‘So long as they can make more than hiking boots and lace-up brogues, I’ll be happy.’ Though now she thought about it, she needed a new pair of hiking boots.

‘And this one?’

‘A lace-making guild.’

‘Let me guess. Another traditional industry here?’

Helena spread her hands. ‘Why not kill two birds with one stone? You need some clothes and they need—’

‘It’s fine, Helena. If I can do my bit for local tradition and businesses, I’m happy to help.’

Which was how Eva found her days filled with a schedule even busier than the one she had in Tarentia. At least in Tarentia she knew the place intimately. Here, in Paul’s kingdom, she was a newcomer and had to do much more preparation for every engagement.

Despite the years she’d put into studying Ancillan history, politics, geography and language, she didn’t feel nearly as confident in saying or doing the right thing.

She relied on Helena and Paul. Inevitably Paul, for she saw him daily, not only during their joint engagements but every evening over dinner and sometimes at breakfast.

Eva tried to keep her distance, not relax in his company or take it for granted, but it was a battle she’d already lost. Keep her distance? Impossible. This strange situation inspired intimacy, created by their common purpose and the secret about their faux engagement.

Yet it would be over soon enough.

That was what Eva told herself constantly but it had little effect. Each day she looked forward to the time she’d be with him. She responded to his easy smile and ready charm. More than once she found herself basking in his approval as he complimented her on how she’d handled some situation. As for those times when he touched her...a hand at her elbow or the small of her back...it took everything she had not to shiver in response and lean into his hand.

She enjoyed those touches too much.

That was why she didn’t object when those occasional touches grew more frequent, and not just in public.

Such as now, three weeks after the fateful night of the ball and her disastrous night-club visit.

As she entered the small dining parlour Paul held out a chair for her at the breakfast