Promised to the Swedish Prince - Sasha Cottman Page 0,30
scratch the soft fur behind Freya’s ear, Erika already knew the answer.
She just didn’t know how she was going to protect her heart.
Chapter Fifteen
“I am pleased that you have made the right decision. Just remember it is not real and you will only have to keep up the façade until we manage to secure the trade agreement,” said Count Jansson.
“What will happen to me after the ink has dried?” she replied.
Erika managed a smile for her father’s benefit. At least someone was happy with the betrothal. She had waited a few hours before coming out of her room and giving him her decision, but she still had serious reservations.
He let out a long, slow breath. “To be honest, I don’t know. Perhaps you and Prince Christian might decide to stay betrothed. He is, of course, not Prince Gustav, but he is still a member of the royal family. Speaking of Christian, have you spoken to him yet?”
“No. I assumed you would be doing that,” she replied.
Count Jansson frowned. He rose from his chair and came around to where Erika stood on the other side of his desk, then pulled her into his arms. With her head resting against his chest, she closed her eyes, praying that she wouldn’t start to cry.
“Erika, I don’t want you to feel that this arrangement is something over which you have no control. You are very much in partnership with Prince Christian in this endeavor, and your contribution will make the difference between success and failure. With that in mind, I would ask that you go and speak to him personally. Let him know of your decision.”
She drew back, out of her father’s embrace, wiping an unbidden tear away with the heel of her hand. Magnus hadn’t given her any comfort, just reinforced the idea that what she was doing was for the common good. “I am worried over what will happen to me when this is all over. When no one has any use for me.”
He held out a hand to her, but Erika shook her head. She didn’t want to be appeased. She wanted someone to tell her with absolute certainty that she would not be cast aside.
“I will always have a use for you. You are my daughter, and while you might not believe it, I do have your best interests at heart. Always,” he replied.
Erika let the matter drop. What Magnus thought was good for her wasn’t necessarily congruent with her opinion. But he was right in that the mission to secure the treaty was of the utmost importance. It would mean the difference between Sweden having a voice in the future or being forever sidelined.
What lay ahead for her in the future was something to consider at another time.
“I shall go and speak to Christian,” she said.
She was a daughter of Sweden, and her country had to come first. Erika just wished that fulfilling her duty didn’t have to come at the cost of her future happiness and her heart.
The Jansson home had two small balconies which overlooked Edward Street. Being on the corner of Duke Street had many disadvantages, especially when it came to noise, but at least the terrace afforded a place where Christian could sit and enjoy the rare moments of sunshine.
Anyone who passed by the open door of the main sitting room could see Christian outside working at the little table. They would also notice the pen in his hand as it hovered over a piece of paper. What was not clear from such a distance was the fact that he had barely written more than two words in the hour since he had started the letter to his sister Anna.
He couldn’t get the memory of Erika’s face out of his mind.
What he was asking of her was unfair in so many ways. His plans of coming to London and trying to subtly woo Erika had been thrown out the window. He was certain that if he looked over the balcony, he would be able to see them lying dashed to pieces on the footpath below.
He was caught in a mad scheme of his own making where she was going to have to pretend to love him. His urgent need to get the trade agreement signed threatened his chances of securing her heart for real. If she no longer trusted him, how was he going to make her see that they could have a future beyond a fake betrothal?
With a resigned huff, he set the pen