David stood in the arched doorway to watch the princess pass. He'd heard that she'd arrived, and his heart was beating rather faster than usual as a feeling akin to nerves swept through his gut. What would she look like? Beautiful, of course, but tall, or petite? with straight raven tresses, or blonde curls? He heard footsteps coming up the stairs; from here he could watch, unobserved, as she passed.
There! Those were the footmen, escorting her…but surely that plain little thing couldn't be the Princess Theresa-Maria? She was small and skinny, dressed in what appeared to be some kind of painter's smock, splattered with rainbow hues. Her face, framed by short layers of fawn-coloured hair, looked pinched and thin, the high cheekbones sticking out sharply beneath the dark-ringed eyes. Then, suddenly, she glanced up at him. Her eyes were huge and dark, with a look of lost bewilderment. She saw him watching, and smiled. That smile somehow changed her completely; managing to combine the grace of a born noble with the sudden gladness of a child unexpectedly home. Was she, in that moment, as beautiful as he had imagined? No, not at all – but she had something else, something better. If he had believed in such things, David would have said it was her aura, an aura of such surpassing goodness that it touched all who beheld it.
And then she was gone, vanished into an upstairs room to be washed and dressed. David leant back against the wall in the shadows, his mouth breaking into a smile. He found he was suddenly looking forward to the ball tonight. Just to watch her dance- for of course he would never be allowed to partner her – would make the night worthwhile.
Coming up the aisle, she looked radiant. For David, the last few months of torture seemed to be encapsulated in this moment. Condemned to smile, to meet Guy's blue eyes and share his joy, his triumph, while inside he felt like ravenous beasts were ripping him apart. He didn't want to be here; he wanted to crawl away and lie on his sumptuous four-poster, staring at the blurred ceiling as the twilight faded. But no, he mustn't think of that. Mustn't think of himself, when she was so happy.
She had wanted to be married in some dreadful old opera costume, the aunts had told him. Something hugely lacy, designed for the heaving bosom of the principal female lead in the company currently taking up almost half of the church. How different the dress she now wore; pure white, the light silk decorated with only the tracings of a master seamstress' needle. She almost seemed to float in it. And how glorious her smile as she looked up at Guy. It was so bright, like a flame, that it hurt David to look at.
How much would he have given to swap places with Guy? Yet a kingdom wouldn't have been enough. She never had eyes for anyone but him.