What's in a name? "Edward" and "Isabella" has always been the names Stephenie Meyer had in mind for the two main characters of Twilight. Jasper, however, was originally a "Ronald" and Rosalie was a "Carol".

Chapter32/Engagement

[Angela]

She has been observing her sister closely since Lord Edward Cullen, the future Duke of Kent, arrived at the castle a sennight past.

She found it quite odd because they seemed to be trying to avoid each other and when they were in the same hall or chamber, they did not look at each other, just towards each other's directions.

What she thought more baffling was that she had caught Lord Kent staring at her sister when she wasn't looking, and to her surprise, her sister would match that fixed look when she thought no one was watching her.

Angela did not quite understand the look on her sister's face when she was focused on the virile, handsome lord. She felt herself blushing at her thought, remembering his tall, broad-shouldered, agreeable form. She was 15 years old, soon to be 16! She reminded herself, feeling quite wicked for she had great appreciation for strikingly appealing men.

Unlike her sister, she wasn't as guarded or as secluded. She had allowed a stolen kiss or two from young nobles before and she had been caught too, by her own father, no less. He only smiled indulgently at her but directed an icy stare at the hapless young lord whose name she had forgotten, and who may or may not have fainted dead away at the sight of the kingly glare.

But she wasn't quite sure that her father would look similarly complaisant had he intercepted Lord Cullen's deep stare at Bella. It was so fervidly, intensely different. She had felt breathless while witnessing it, and she was only watching him, his eyes on her sister as if he might die if he would look away from her face. She could only imagine what it would feel like if she was on the receiving end of that ardent stare.

She wondered how on earth no one had ever noticed this before, that ... that Bella … that Bella was in love with Lord Cullen and he with her!

The epiphany made her stumble and Angela actually tripped over her feet. A hand helped her regain her balance and she nodded absently at her cousin, Ingrid Beckham, who was accompanying her to the queen's quarters.

"Are you feeling faint, my lady?" she asked.

She shook her head and managed a reassuring smile. She continued walking, lost in thought.

If her father was still alive and Georgie was to be the next king, would her sister and the future duke be allowed to marry?

The answer to that one, as Angela knew it, was neither a yes or no, but probably. It was a possibility that they would be allowed to wed with the kingdom's approval, but not after her father had entertained a foreign king or a prince's suit first and there would be offers, even if Bella was not queen.

Still, she mulled, Kent was her father's closest friend and ally, and if life turned out differently and her sister was not tied to the damned throne … would they find consent to wed?

Oh, it was so very complicated! She wailed to herself.

[Bella]

He was avoiding her.

She viciously yanked on the annoying weeds that simply refused to leave her patch of roses and gilliflowers alone. She dug her hands on the soil and tried to pack it smoothly flat when a particularly stubborn weed, rooted so firmly, disturbed the soil around the roses.

Satisfied that the weeds have been overpowered, for the moment at least, Bella sat back on her heels and surveyed her small paradise.

Sanctuary, she thought, sighing.

She considered it a miracle when she found this secluded garden a month after her return. It was a pleasure garden of a forgotten ancestor of hers and by the state of the foliage when she found it, it has been abandoned for too many decades.

She stood up and slowly whirled, a small, peaceful smile on her face. It was a secret alcove tucked behind the upper level chambers of the castle. When she discovered it, the soil had thinned but still, wild flowers and bushes grew from the weakened earth while grape vines lined the stone walls.

What took her breath away was that the sky garden, as she now calls it, had an unrestrained, sprawling view of the mountains and the surrounding forests. An open space of skies and nature that caught her by surprise for she never expected such a place was hidden within the castle walls.

She lay on the grass and gazed up at the mid-afternoon sky. She breathed in the basil, sage and sweet marjoram that she had planted in a small corner, her token herbary.

In the six months since she had been back, she found the time to tend to her secret garden, sometimes during nights. She loved working under the beaming moon. She felt so much at peace and blissfully alone.

She never expected to love it, she had never done it and knew nothing of growing plants and flowers, but she did it.

If she could rule a kingdom, she could certainly nurse a seed to grow into a pretty flower.

This was what she wanted in her life, deep in her heart, she knew it. A small patch of land to plant and to watch the buds bloom. To lie on the soft grass, to hear the laughter of her children. And if she was lulled to sleep by the gentle wind, that she would wake up to the smiling face of her mate.

The smiling face became Edward's and she sighed, deeply.

This moment, when she could almost feel it, it somehow crystallized all her dreams.

She sat up and rubbed her eyes. She hugged her arms to her chest and glanced up at the sky as a shadow passed over her. A cloud has slid over the sun and the air around her chilled a bit.

Why was he avoiding her?

After she had launched herself at him that day – Mary Mother in Heaven, was it only a sennight ago? She thought she had made it perfectly clear to him that she wanted this … whatever this was! She wanted it with him and she didn't care anymore what everybody expected from her.

She was the queen. She could do every little thing she wished to do! She thought in defiance.

Her shoulders slumped forward and she exhaled a long breath. She brushed impatiently at a wayward tear.

Oh, Father, she silently cried. Why did you have to die?

The old king's strong yet kindly face appeared before her, in her mind's eyes, and she thought the words that were his, now her own.

I am queen and I am obligated to do my duties to my people and country, she thought, resigned.

What she wished for herself personally had nothing to do with it.

Her burdens had always been hers alone, even with a supportive mother and a devoted sister. Even with a legion of loyal subjects. And this, the crown, was her burden, and she had always felt guilty that she felt this way.

If there was one selfish act she would, and could do, did she dare to do it?

Yes! Her mind screamed at her.

She was going to kill him!

For several seconds Bella's body didn't move as if she knew she had to remain still or she would regret her next move.

She was strolling in one of the courtyards, attended by her cousin, Alice, and several court ladies. She had managed to avoid the attentions of the French prince for days by doing exactly what she was doing now, leisurely spending time in the pleasaunce surrounded by women.

Rounding a corner of the bushtree-lined park, she abruptly stopped and stared, her breath choking her.

He was standing beside a bench, and on the bench sitting was Tirawley MacDermott's sister, Princess Peigin. They were cozily talking quietly and the princess, Bella noted with narrowed eyes, had one hand extended as if she had just touched his arm.

Edward eyed Bella warily, him being the first to notice that their private moment now had an audience.

The air was thick with tension which was rendered more intense because everyone was confused of where it was coming from.

Oh, Bella knew the source of the tension and it was standing right in front of her, motionless, until he remembered his manners.

"Your grace," Edward said in a low voice, and bowed.

The woman, damned her eyes, glowered at her when she was finally able to tear her gaze away from him. She quickly rearranged her expression into something bland, and languidly she stood up, arrogant like her absent brother, and slithered closer to Edward.

MacDermott sent his sister to the castle two weeks ago as his representative, claiming that he could not depart as yet from his lands due to some minor conflict among his barons.

As soon as the princess arrived, she created quite a stir for she was the rival that Rosalie never had, for if her cousin was the prettiest woman in the English court, Peigin was in hers.

Bella gritted her teeth, afraid to let out the guttural sound she wanted to make. She consoled herself that at least she wasn't screaming.

Why was she standing too close to him?

What were they talking about?

And could England afford another war with Ireland?

She considered it, she really did, for a war was what would happen if she followed what her heart was urging her to do, which was to gouge her blue eyes out of their sockets!

Her heart was beating faster and with a deceptively calm voice, she said, "Edward, Peigin," she almost snarled her name. "It is a nice day, isn't?"

"My gracious queen," she said, and the woman remembered to curtsy a little, but not quite bending her knees as befits her rank.

Bella refused to look at him again. She didn't think she could hide another glare.

She felt unfocused and restless. She hated to feel this way and he was the only one who could do this to her!

She spared him another glance though, she couldn't help it, and she caught his small smile. It was his usual amused, crooked smile and her blood started to boil again.

She had to bother him because, All the Saints in Heaven knew, he bothered her mightily.

"Are we expecting the prince to participate in the tournament?" She inquired, instilling quite a measure of interest in her tone.

She felt rather than saw Edward stiffen.

"Oh yes, my lady, he will be here," Peigin assured her. "My brother continues to apologize for the delays in his visit. He bids me tell you that he most sincerely would like to be here as soon as possible," she added with a wide, fake smile.

"I am pleased," Bella demurred. "Bring him a message that I, too, would anxiously await his arrival."

And take that, Cullen!

She picked up her skirts and managed not to stomp away, her entourage at her heels.

[Alice]

She had waited all day to catch a moment with Edward. She seemed to be doing that more and more lately but somehow, he would still manage to elude her.

Fortunately, she had a lot of time to pursue him since Jasper was away from the castle, ordered by his older brother to investigate some town near London. He wouldn't tell her what his mission was when she asked him, and so she left it well enough alone.

She knew something was brewing and her stomach would turn because she knew it had something to do with Victoria Argyll.

When she was not stalking Edward, or waiting on the queen, she was in her room practicing. She had done almost all of the spells in her mother's grimoire and she was marginally satisfied with the results. There were incantations that were hard to execute though, but she needed to at least try until she got it working.

Victoria was coming back one day, she knew it. And she would be prepared for that day.

"What were you thinking?" she asked him, quite mildly.

Finally, out of sheer fortune and perhaps divine providence – and she was tempted to use magic on him just so she could get a hold of him – she cornered Edward in one of the corridors outside of the Receivers Hall.

She waited for him to speak and she just couldn't keep quiet.

"Well?" Impatiently.

"Do you speak like this to Jasper?" He said, leaning forward as if to intimidate her. She backed away, but only a little.

"All the time, my lord."

Edward stared at her for several moments and cocked his head toward her in salute.

"I still owe you for your help in finding my son. I will indulge you. So, what was I thinking about then?"

"Princess Peigin?"

Really, he was lucky he still had his head attached to his shoulders. Didn't he realize how powerful the queen was?

He looked at her sharply, trying to discern if her tone was insulting or not. Alice shrugged. "That was not a pleasant sight, my lord. You hurt her."

"It wasn't my intention to hurt her." He let out a frustrated breath. "And not that I need to explain myself to you but, I'll have you know, it was entirely innocent and accidental."

Her brows rose in question.

"You must know the princess wants you, why, she was all over you! We could all see it, especially Bella." She snorted in disdain.

"Did she tell you to talk to me?" He asked quietly.

"No, my lord," she said, slightly nervous. She didn't and the queen would lock her up for a day if she finds out. Nothing and no one had the ability to change Bella's moods, or temper, like Edward.

Suddenly, he held out his hand and she jumped, foolishly. She regarded him for a few moments and then, shyly, she placed her hand in his.

"You - " He cleared his throat and was silent for awhile. He looked down at her hand, clasped in his. "You may call me Edward. You … are my sister, after all."

Alice's eyes teared and she looked away, nodding. After a moment, she whispered, "do you want to -" and she stopped. She didn't quite know how to ask him. "Would you like to talk about it?"

"Yes, but perhaps not today."

"Do you … resent me for it?"

"For what?" he asked, confused.

"For the blood that we share."

"No."

She squeezed his hand and let go.

For several moments they said nothing. She stole a glance at him and saw him frowning. She knew instinctively that he was thinking about Bella. She could also tell that she had finally got through to him.

"Bella thought I was voluntarily keeping company with the princess?" he asked.

"Yes, she did. She can't help to think that, based on what she saw."

Edward held silent for what seemed a long time until he said, "I will go to her."

Alice sighed in relief but then remembered something. "You best do it soon, you've already given de Burgh enough time to worm his way around the queen's inner circle."

He gave her a startled look. "What's de Burgh got to do with the queen?"

"I'm not precisely certain what the earl wants from her, but I know for sure that he wants her," she said meaningfully. "For himself," she added with emphasis.

Edward cursed and her eyes widened reproachfully at him. The look he gave her was thunderous.

Ah, jealousy. What a lovely enterprise, Alice thought.

"I saw him follow her in the stables. I do think he means to coach her on how not to fear horses anymore," she said in a taunting voice. "Like you did before, am I right?"

He didn't bother with an expletive this time, simply marching angrily away. To the queen's stables.

[Bella]

The Earl of Cambridgeshire was a pleasant fellow and Bella had always liked him. She considered him like a kin and that was why it puzzled her when he started acting – for want of a better word – amatory towards her, instead of being merely affectionate like a kinsman.

Still, she chased that thought away. She was probably attaching too many speculations about his actions which were just, well, over-friendly lately. For why would he show her more than affections? He was not eligible as suitor, at least not by her council's standards. And more importantly, she wasn't interested.

It was while she was debating with herself on how to handle de Burgh when she noticed that, without her permission, he had dismissed the two pages that had accompanied her to the stables.

"I remember you were about 10 or 12 years old when you were finally persuaded to ride a horse," he said, now standing too close to her. She was leaning on the railing of her palfrey's box stall.

"Yes, previous to that, it was always the carriage for me." She was fond of that carriage which was built just for her. It was decorated and gilded and pulled by white horses.

"Let me see you ride your horse, my lady. I rarely see you on top of your beautiful beast. May we do that sometime? Ride together?" His voice has become uncomfortably husky.

Bella straightened and she was about to move away from him when a stilted coughing followed by a throat clearing sounded from behind.

"Your grace, may I inquire if you are ready now?" Edward's voice said dryly and she twisted immediately around, eyes wide.

Edward stood not 10 feet away, a slight curl to his lip as he and de Burgh engaged in a staring contest. He turned his look at her, lifting a brow.

It suddenly occurred to Bella in that moment that his comment was a ruse and if it would get her away from de Burgh, she was all for it.

"Yes, of course. Ready for -" she stopped. What did he meant by it anyway?

"For your ride. With me. Now." He clipped each word, and then said belatedly, formally and with a bow, "your highness."

She nodded quickly and to the silent de Burgh, she said haughtily, "You may leave us now, Marcus."

Bella turned away but not before she briefly saw his chilling look at Edward. "Enjoy your ride, my lady," he managed, and ignoring Edward, he stalked out.

Upon his exit, one of the pages, Ollio, quickly entered the stables. He stopped abruptly, seeing Edward. He didn't wait for an order but backed away to, presumably, stand guard outside.

They descended into silence and it was painfully evocative. He did nothing but stare at her for several seconds, then muttered, "I apologize."

"Why?" she asked, not giving an inch. He was the one who purposefully avoided her. What else was she supposed to do? It was his fault that they were now standing there, in an awkward position. And let's not forget his little tête-à-tête with the little Irish princess.

"For a lot of things, for everything that's on your mind right now. For what you thought you saw in the garden," he grumbled.

Bella stood her ground and crossed her arms over her chest. "Then what did I see then?"

"For God's sakes, Bella, what do you think I am? Do you think I will kiss you and then turn around and find the next princess to amuse myself?"

"I'm a queen, not a princess," she said rather sullenly. The second the words were out of her mouth she wanted to kick herself.

He reached out to grab her then stopped. He looked at the open door of the stables and let out a frustrated groan.

"Bella," he ground out, completely losing patience with her. He raked his hand through his hair. "Don't."

She scowled at him.

A vein began to twitch at his temple.

She pursed her lips together, still glaring.

He took a step that lessened the distance between them.

Bella's lungs tightened and her skin prickled. She felt flushed all over.

She chewed on her lower lip and Edward's eyes dipped to her mouth. He looked at her and she heard his breath catch in his throat and she shivered.

He made a move towards her and then he stopped, clearly shaken by something and by a further need to catch his breath.

"What's it about these damned stables!" he growled, his deep green eyes glued to the sight of her lip caught between her teeth. "Please, Bella," he said hoarsely. "Go. Before I lose control."

Her legs turned wobbly and her lips parted. She couldn't seem to make them work. All she was capable of doing was to stare up at him. She felt herself swaying toward him.

"Bella," he said in a low, warning tone. His fisted hands at his sides were white, and his stance was rigid.

She looked at him, his darkening emerald eyes inscrutable as his brows came together.

She stepped back and turned towards the door.

[Angela]

Two days later

A hall attendant opened the doors to the entry hall as Ingrid showed her upstairs to the drawing chamber of the queen's quarters, promising to bring her a plate of refreshments. At the mention of food, distracted from her musings, Angela quickly whispered her request for her favored sweets.

"You're going to get a belly ache, eating too much of the French tartes," her cousin teased her.

"I do not care," she retorted. "The only reason I welcome Prince Grimoald is because he brought his own fabulous court chef," she said dreamily, already tasting the shortcrust creamy pie that only the French cook could prepare.

She sat at a large settee and waited for her mother and Rosalie to join her.

They were going to discuss Lord Worth's proposal to hold a tournament in honor of the foreign nobles visiting the castle. Of course everybody knew the princes and their entourage were in London only to vie for the queen's hand in marriage. And because this was the queen's tournament, there would also be a festival to last a week.

Bella was expected to make an appearance and join in their meeting but it would take awhile, she had a visitor that had everyone guessing who. It must be one of those old lords petitioning her sister for this and that favor and then more.

At the thought of her sister, she once again delved into her realization earlier about Bella and Lord Cullen. She had taken every opportunity to observe them, attracting attention to herself if their furtive glances at each other became too obvious.

It was heartbreaking to see her sister hide her feelings for the young duke. She was the most important person in her life, other than their mother, and she vowed to help her sister find her true happiness, even for a little while. She frowned, for she still did not know how this could be so. There was simply no chance for them to be together.

Her mother and cousin entered the drawing room, complete with her mother's waiting maids, and she set aside her thoughts and worries over her sister.

The Duchess of Aufforest was present too, along with the other wives of court lords.

Angela stifled a yawn, anticipating a long afternoon of planning and organizing. She knew they were not going to talk about the actual jousting and sword play part of the tournament. They were going to discuss the entertainment part of the event, the music, the food, and the roundel and pavane dances. She was sure that the wives of lords would spent the better part of the afternoon comparing fabric and silk, and trinkets.

It would be more stimulating if they were to have a dialogue on the unruly rules of the games, which she found too barbaric. Why, the jousting alone was too brutal and violent and in some jousting tournaments, it would only end if one of the knights on horseback was killed.

"There should be new rules in honor of the Merciful Queen," she interrupted the ladies, reminding all of them what kind of monarch her sister was.

They blinked, some nodded as if agreeing with her, while some were eyeing her as if she was seven years old.

"Tournament rules have not been changed in, why, since anyone could remember, Princess," Lady Pembroke said huffily.

Of course not, Angela thought. They were all content to watch battle-trained knights disembowel a fellow knight, thinking that winning at jousting meant murdering the opponent.

The older women politely maneuvered the now strained conversation away from her somewhat anarchistic suggestions but she was resolute and she kept returning to her point of argument.

She didn't dare look at her mother though, expecting a quelling look. She was in no mood for a reprimanding glare.

She did turn an oblique look at Rosalie, who was smirking at her and her eyes seemed to dare her to draw blood if she would not get her way. She returned her grin, flexing her fingers. Rosalie, who was only six months older than her, was her cohort and she knew she had her back, always.

All thoughts of debating fled her mind when the door was unceremoniously opened by two hall attendants and the queen entered, followed by a most appealing young man.

Angela's breath left her body as she stared open-mouthed at the tall, dark-haired man.

Oh, Mother of God in Heaven!

The official hall crier, opening his mouth to announce the queen's presence and of her distinguished visitor, abruptly closed it when Alice, who followed the queen inside, raised a hand for him to stop. The man bowed low and left the room.

Angela swung her gaze to Rosalie who was looking at her oddly, her head tilted to the side. She looked up again she couldn't help it, and locked eyes with the man's mesmerizing black eyes.

Bella made an expansive gesture, inviting the man to speak and to introduce himself to the excited bevy of court women.

The man bowed slightly to her sister, and the informality of the salute clued Angela in on who this might be. A high-born noble, perhaps the highest ranked in his kingdom.

"Forgive my hasty intrusion, reina viuda," he inclined his head to her mother, who flushed and nodded her head regally at him.

And then, her heart hammering in her chest, he turned to her. "Princesa, I am charmed to meet you at last. I am Raoul."

Holy … She gulped, and let out an embarrassingly noisy exhale.

Bloody hell.

She had fallen in love.

***a/n

Thanks for reading and the really, really nice reviews.

There's Part 2 to this chapter. After that, the tournament.

Spanish:

Reina viuda – Dowager queen