A Princess for Christmas - Jenny Holiday Page 0,103
strangely mild—and then he threw his head back and laughed at her.
Marie sucked a breath in as tears rose to the surface.
“Did you have someone else in mind, then?” he said, making her feel like a child. “Someone else lined up?”
“I—” Of course she didn’t. What had Leo said? There was “no universe” in which he wanted to marry her.
Father kept looking at her, his eyebrows raised, impatience written on his face.
“I don’t wish to marry anyone at present,” she finally said, disappointed that she hadn’t managed to hold on to her mother’s commanding tone. That the tears she was trying hard to suppress were so obviously, so mortifyingly, apparent in the quavering of her voice. He sighed. Looked at her for a long time. “I’m sorry, but this is the way of things for us.” He flashed a small, cheerless smile, her sad king. “To hear it told, your mother didn’t want to marry me, either.” The smile widened, but turned false. “And look how that worked out.”
She wasn’t sure if he meant that it had worked out fine, because they’d been happy, or if he was referring to the wreckage her death left behind.
Regardless, the anger—the cruelty—had gone from him. For now. Her mind churned, trying to work out an escape, but it was moving slowly, mired in the heartbreak and embarrassment of having been mocked by her own father. Did you have someone else in mind?
“Need we announce the engagement at the ball?” she said carefully, falling back on the strategy of postponement, rather than outright defiance, that she and Max had always relied on. If they could just get through the holidays, perhaps there was a solution yet to be discovered. “Won’t it draw the focus from the holiday celebration?”
“On the contrary, it will enhance the celebration. And who knows, perhaps it will do us some good to have a pleasant memory to associate with the holiday.”
Did he mean that last bit sincerely, or was he merely manipulating her to get what he wanted? Regardless, Marie didn’t know what else to say, so she turned away from him. She needed to get out of this room. Maybe then her brain would work properly. She could call Max, and—
“And . . .” her father said, drawing her attention just as she’d reached the door. When she looked over her shoulder, he looked . . . She wasn’t even sure. He almost looked contrite, but that couldn’t be right. “I’ll take a look at your UN proposal.”
She wanted to tell him that it wasn’t a proposal. It was a plan. A plan she had sent him a copy of as a courtesy. Because she was accepting the UN ambassadorship no matter what he said. But it seemed wiser to save that fight for another day.
So she sought the only concession she could think of that might be within her grasp, given that he’d softened a bit. “You’ll be civil to all our guests tonight, including the Riccis, who will stay until Boxing Day as planned?”
Whatever she thought she’d seen on his face was gone. It was now blank. But he said, calmly, “Yes.”
“Very well.”
She turned, aware anew of how lonely she was. Leo had managed to distract her from it for a while, but in a few days he would leave and she would be more alone than ever.
A sad princess to go with the sad king?
Maybe it was inevitable. Maybe this was how it happened.
When Marie came to Leo’s room late that night, she seemed off. Sad.
“Hey, Princess, what’s shaking?”
She smiled at him, but it was a fake one. He couldn’t abide that. He led her to one of the chairs by the fire. “What’s wrong?”
She shook her head as she sat. “It was just . . . a very long day.”
He sat in the companion chair, wishing the room had a sofa so he could sit closer to her. “You had a fight with your father, didn’t you?” Oddly, the king hadn’t been as much of a dick as usual during cocktails and dinner. Leo had put that down to the fact that Imogen had joined them, had thought perhaps His Majesty tolerated commoners of his own nation better than New York interlopers. And Marie and Imogen had seemed to have a good time, reminiscing and teasing each other, though he had wondered if Marie’s good cheer was a little forced.
She sighed and slumped lower in her chair. “Are you a mind reader?”