The visit to Edinburgh might have gone well, but the atmosphere seemed…different, somehow, when the private jet landed in London.
Here, things seemed more tense, less hopeful. Mary wondered if this had something to do with the fact that Narcisse had spent most of the short flight sitting with his arms folded, looking sulky and morose and throwing many glares in Francis's direction, but she doubted it was just that.
Nobody came to greet them at the landing field-no English guards, no members of the public, and certainly no journalists. Mary couldn't help wondering if anybody in England actually cared that they were there.
The streets of London were busy as the royal cars drove through the city, but no busier than they would have been on any other afternoon in the capital. It seemed that no members of the public were lining the streets, ready to catch a glimpse of royalty.
Mary felt an almost overwhelming sense of nostalgia as they passed the London Eye and Big Ben on their way to Downing Street. This city had been Mary's home, during her school days, before she had returned to Scotland in a state of shock after the incident in France. For all her not-so-positive memories of her school, Mary had been happy here in London, spending her days with Greer and following Francis from a distance, always wondering where he was going.
When the royal cars pulled up outside 10 Downing Street, the Prime Minister was already waiting outside for them, standing on the steps outside the official government residence, along with a couple of guards. There was nobody else waiting outside. Usually, it was customary for the household staff to line up in Downing Street to greet official visitors, but they were nowhere to be seen. There were also no journalists or photographers standing on the other side of the street, ready to capture the moment on camera.
The camera crew from the matchmaking show were left on their own to record the arrival as Mary and Francis got out of the car and made their way over to the waiting Prime Minister.
The English Prime Minister was a tall man with grey hair. He stood up straight, a commanding presence in his designer suit, and a firm expression on his face. He managed a smile as he greeted Mary and Francis with a quick bow, but still, Mary had the impression that he was not the kind of man to be crossed.
"I hope you've had a pleasant trip?" the Prime Minister asked Mary and Francis in an English accent that Mary was sure wouldn't have been out of place in a classic novel, before he offered them a tour of Number 10.
He continued to be polite as they toured around Number 10 and he pointed out various portraits of previous Prime Minister that were displayed on the walls near the main staircase before he showed them a few of the empty conference rooms, yet, when he inquired about James's upcoming wedding, and pointedly made a comment about not being invited, Mary got the impression that he had taken this snub to heart.
Mary was a little surprised herself to hear that England's Prime Minister had not been invited to the wedding, especially as a marriage between James and Kenna had been arranged to bring about better relations between England and Scotland in the first place. Had the lack of an invite been an oversight on her mother's part? Or had she deliberately not invited the English Prime Minister? Perhaps the feud with England ran deeper than Mary had first thought.
When the Prime Minister asked a few of the house's personal photographers to take pictures as he and Mary and Francis walked around the house, before he led them back outside to pose for photographs on the steps of Number 10, now that a few members of the press had bothered to show up, Mary's suspicions that they were merely here for some kind of publicity stunt rather than any real political negotiations only increased.
Francis however, seemed to be winning over some of the staff in 10 Downing Street, even if Mary couldn't. He smiled and made general conversation with several groups of women who worked in the Prime Minister's headquarters, turning on the charm. Mary only felt a little jealous as she watched most of the women smile at him in return; she reminded herself that this was Francis's job, that this was who he was, when he was being the prince of France. It seemed that the cold behaviour from the English government was reserved entirely for Scottish royalty.
Mary was almost glad to get out of 10 Downing Street and head back to the cars that would take them to the House of Commons. The Prime Minister was expected to appear there this afternoon, and he had invited Mary and Francis along to watch Prime Minister's Questions.
"You will have a challenge on your hands, in strengthening relations between England and Scotland," Narcisse whispered to Mary as she got into the waiting car.
Mary sighed. Narcisse's words were only confirming what she already knew.
The royal car passed Westminster Abbey on the way to the House of Commons. Mary thought of all the royal weddings that had taken place here-weddings that she had once watched with James on television, the two of them treating the events like light entertainment. Mary had always thought that Westminster Abbey was beautiful, when she had lived in London, but now the sight of it made her feel a little nervous-it was yet another reminder of her brother's upcoming wedding, and a reminder that the Scottish Prime Minister wanted Mary to turn her own wedding into a big public event.
Mary glanced over at Francis. He was distracted, looking at his phone as he apparently tried to arrange a call with an Italian ambassador. He might have agreed to accompany Mary on her visit, but it did not mean that he was exempt from his own royal duties.
Francis had been a little quiet on this trip, Mary realised, now that she was really thinking about it. In a way, Mary hoped that he was distracted with business matters in France and the fact that Narcisse was here on this visit, and not other matters of the heart.
Mary and Francis were taken on a quick tour of the House of Commons when they arrived, where they were asked to pose for more photos with the Prime Minister and various other politicians, before they were shown upstairs to the viewing gallery to watch proceedings. Again, Mary suspected that they were being kept out of the way, and being kept from getting too involved.
Narcisse soon drifted away from the viewing gallery, caught up in yet another conversation with the guards and the rest of the Publicity Team. Mary had no idea what they were all talking so intently about.
Francis stayed with Mary for as long as he could, but he eventually had to head into a room off to the side of the viewing gallery when the Italian ambassador finally called him back.
Mary stayed to watch the political conversations going on in the room below on her own. She was so engrossed in the debate that were going on that she almost didn't hear the sound of footsteps as someone approached her.
"Do you come here often?"
Mary jumped, feeling a little startled. Trying not to look too embarrassed at being snuck up on, she turned around to see none other than Louis Conde standing next to her.
Mary shook her head in disbelief. Perhaps she should not be so surprised to see him here today-she already knew that he worked in politics in London, after all.
"You have really got to stop using lines like that," Mary told him, pretending to sound embarrassed on his behalf, even as she grinned, thinking about his 'who has the key to your heart?' line that he had used last time.
It was nice to see Conde again, she realised. She had never really had many close friends, or allies in her inner circle, and a friendly face was a friendly face, after all.
Still, she couldn't help glancing over her shoulder, to see who might be watching the exchange between the two of them. She wasn't sure why she was being so cautious-what did it matter, if Francis or Narcisse or any of the Publicity Team saw them? Mary had talked to a lot of people today. Still, she couldn't help feeling relieved that there were only a couple of guards hanging around in the distance.
She also tried not to blush as her mother's words from a couple of days ago came back to her-Conde had apparently put himself forward as a suitor for her, and he wanted her to consider leaving the matchmaking show to date him instead. It was strange being around him, now that she knew for sure what his feelings were.
Still, Mary tried not to let any of her discomfort show-for all Conde knew, she still knew nothing about the proposal he had made.
"How has the visit to England been so far?" Conde asked her.
Something must have shown in Mary's facial expression before she could conceal it, because Conde winced, and then an expression of sympathy crossed his face. "That bad?" he asked her, managing a grin now.
Mary sighed. She glanced back down at the politicians below before she spoke again. "I find myself wondering if any of them would even notice, if Francis and I were to leave right now…" Perhaps she shouldn't have said this out loud, especially to a politician who worked here, but Mary realised that it felt good to voice her not-so-positive feelings about how this part of the visit was going; it felt good to be honest.
"They're not happy," Conde told her in barely more than a whisper as he moved to stand a little closer. "England is still holding a grudge over Scotland's separation and independence, and they feel like they have been snubbed by Scotland ever since. As you are here as an ambassador for Scotland, the English government will probably not appear overly welcoming…"
It saddened Mary to hear the truth about England and Scotland's relationship spelled out to her, but she was hardly surprised-it was what she had already suspected.
"At least your brother's wedding to Lady Kenna might serve to repair relations a little," Conde added with a half-smile.
Mary suspected that he had seen the look of despair on her face and was now trying to find something positive to say to make her feel better.
"But, perhaps there is something more that can be done to help the situation…" said Conde, his tone a little knowing now, but also a little mysterious. "And something that could help you as well…"
"And what is that?" Mary couldn't help asking him, feeling genuinely curious now. It seemed like Conde really did have some kind of information that could be helpful.
"There's something I'd like to discuss with you," Conde answered in a whisper. "Something that might help strengthen relations between England and Scotland, and something that might be of benefit to your future. But not here. If you can get away from all of this for a little while," he nodded in the direction of Mary's Publicity Team, who were now returning to the viewing gallery with Narcisse. "then meet me at eight o'clock this evening." Discreetly, Conde handed Mary a small business card.
Mary frowned, but before she could ask him anything else, Francis walked back into the room, still on the phone.
"The address is on the card," Conde muttered to her, before he made his excuses and slipped out of the room.
Quickly, Mary looked down at the card. An address of what seemed to be a local pub that wasn't too far from the House of Commons was printed on it. It seemed to be the official business card of the establishment.
But then Francis was walking over to her again, and Mary quickly hid the card in her pocket.
Out of the corner of her eye, Mary noticed that Francis seemed to be smiling as he hung up the phone. She couldn't help but wonder who he'd just been talking to. But still Mary smiled politely at him when he moved to stand next to her.
If Francis had recognised Conde, he didn't say anything about it. However, he didn't say very much else as the two of them watched the Parliamentary debate come to a close; he seemed to have a lot on his mind.
Mary was almost relieved when the Publicity Team suggested that they should leave.
Mary and Francis were granted a couple of hours of free time in London during the late afternoon, before they were scheduled to head back to a hotel for the evening.
Narcisse and his team had already headed on to the hotel, as their presence was not really required now that the official part of the visit to London was over for the day. With Narcisse and Francis no longer glaring at each other, the atmosphere seemed much more relaxed.
As the royal cars drove towards Buckingham Palace, a place that Mary had requested to see as part of the visit, instead of feeling enthusiastic, she felt like her mind was carrying out its own debate.
Should she go and meet Conde this evening? Did he really have something important to tell her; something that would help to strengthen English and Scottish political relations? Was he really trying to be helpful? Or did he have an ulterior motive?
When the cars pulled up outside Buckingham Palace, Mary tried to put these thoughts out of her mind, for now. She wanted to enjoy this part of her visit to London.
The outside of the palace was quieter than usual-it seemed that it was getting a bit late for a lot of tourists to visit. Mary and Francis therefore had plenty of space to take photos, and their security guards mostly kept their distance.
Francis seemed more himself now that he was off-duty, and he laughed along with Mary as he posed with her for a selfie by the palace gates.
He even posed for a photo with a group of European tourists who recognised him as the prince of France. He was all smiles, making polite conversation with them all, and Mary could tell that he had made their day.
After that, Mary and Francis sat down for a quick rest on a set of stone steps nearby.
Mary told Francis about how she used to visit Buckingham Palace during her school days. She told him the story about Kenna-how she had stood outside this very palace, bragging about how she would marry a prince of her own one day.
Francis laughed at this story. "Did you ever dream of marrying a prince yourself one day?" he asked Mary with a wink.
"You already know the answer to that one," Mary joked in return, raising her eyebrow as she smirked a little.
Luckily, Francis laughed along with her.
"However," she added, keeping her voice low, so that a few passing tourists couldn't hear their conversation, "recently, the idea has become a little more appealing…"
It was worth saying those words just to see Francis smile as he looked at her.
After they had spent a little time at Buckingham Palace, Mary and Francis were driven towards Chelsea in South West London, close to where they had attended their secondary schools.
Mary took out her phone and sent the latest picture that she had taken to Kenna-the selfie of Mary and Francis standing outside Buckingham Palace.
Kenna responded with her usual heart emojis, which made Mary smile.
When they arrived in Chelsea, Mary and Francis walked past the rows of old-fashioned houses, enjoying having the free time to just stroll around, without having to be anywhere in particular.
The streets were beautiful, and the sun seemed to be shining brighter than usual in the sky.
They stopped just outside a local bookshop, and Mary took a few moments to look through the shop window, admiring all the classic novels on display.
"I used to see you here sometimes," Mary heard Francis mutter to her. "Standing outside the shops, looking in the windows, back when we attended school in London…" He sounded almost shy, and Mary found it rather endearing.
"Ah, was this when you were on your secret walks to everywhere and nowhere?" Mary attempted to joke with him as she grinned and raised an eyebrow.
"Something like that," Francis replied.
Mary was sure that he was blushing now.
"You could have come over and talked to me," said Mary.
"You have no idea how nerve-wracking the very idea of it was at the time," Francis admitted, the look on his face suggesting that he was wondering whether he should have admitted to this.
"Really?" Mary asked him, sure that her disbelief must have been obvious in her tone.
"Oh, yes," said Francis, an embarrassed-looking smile on his face now. "There was even one time when I tripped over as I attempted to walk over to you to strike up a conversation. It was all very embarrassing…"
Unable to help herself, Mary laughed. The idea of the future king of France-a future king who always seemed to be so poised, so in control of himself-tripping over in a London street as he attempted to talk to a girl was so bizarre and therefore hilarious.
Francis joined in with the laughing, but after their expressions grew serious again, Mary watched him, surprised by this revelation. She had always assumed that Francis had disliked her when they were younger; she had assumed that this was the reason why he had avoided her before the matchmaking show. But perhaps she had been mistaken all along.
"Well, I am glad we are talking on this London street right now," Mary added with a smile.
"Me too," Francis agreed, his tone of voice soft.
It was still early evening when Mary and Francis were driven back to the hotel. It had been a long day, and there would still be a little work to do in the morning before the journey home, and Mary knew that her mother would want her to get an early night.
The hotel had been closed to the public for one night, and so the only guests were Mary and Francis and their teams of staff.
They all headed to the restaurant, where food was to be served for the Scottish and French guests.
Mary sat at a table with Francis, but the atmosphere was definitely a little more tense now that they were surrounded by Narcisse and his Publicity Team, and they didn't talk as much as when they had been alone together in London.
Mary noticed that Narcisse seemed to flirt with several of the waitresses when they brought food over to his table. She frowned as she observed his behaviour from the other side of the room. Perhaps whatever had been going on between him and Lola really was over.
After dinner, Mary's mother had scheduled a debriefing of the day that Mary was to attend with Narcisse, and Francis retired to the hotel suite that had been reserved for him. As he left, Mary noticed that he was checking his phone. Again, she couldn't help but wonder who he was talking to.
Mary headed to a meeting room with Narcisse and a few other members of the Publicity Team.
"Your appearance in Edinburgh seems to have been well-received so far," Narcisse told her from across the meeting room table. "The general consensus seems to be that you appeared strong and capable in your speech."
He showed her a few official photos and videos of the Parliamentary visit. Mary was happy to see that the combination of the windy weather and the loose strands of her hair blowing in the wind had the added effect of making her seem like she was not fazed by a little bad weather. She almost looked like a queen, about to ride into battle, although she knew that it might sound silly, if she said something like this out loud.
Next, Narcisse showed her a few of the official photos that had been taken so far during the London visit. "We might need to get some better photos of you standing next to the Prime Minister tomorrow," he muttered as he held up a photo of Mary and Francis standing next to the Prime Minister on the steps of 10 Downing Street.
Mary was disappointed but not surprised to note that she looked a little tense in these photos, and definitely not happy or relaxed. She hoped that they could take better quality photos in the morning.
"And remember, your speech tomorrow morning will probably be your only opportunity for your voice to be heard in England during this visit," Narcisse added.
So, no pressure then…Mary thought to herself.
As Narcisse continued to talk about the notable lack of coverage of her visit to England, Mary's thoughts drifted again to Louis Conde. He had claimed that he had useful information for her. Would it be worth sneaking out to meet him tonight, to hear what he had to say?
Mary might have feigned tiredness when the meeting drew to a close, making her excuses to head up to her own private suite for the night, but half an hour later, she was pacing up and down her bedroom floor, distracted by her obsessive thoughts.
The hotel bedroom might have looked luxurious, with a four-poster bed and a modern décor and plenty of space, but Mary barely noticed the room's beauty, with everything else that was going on in her mind.
It was half past seven. If she left now, she would still be on time to meet with Conde, provided she could persuade a few of the guards to help her sneak out of the hotel and drive her to the correct address.
Would it be worth taking the risk of sneaking out? Was Conde really prepared to provide her with information that would help to strengthen relations between the two countries, or was this simply an attempt to lure her away from Francis and the matchmaking show for the evening? Should she simply take a chance anyway, based on the possibility of finding something out that could benefit the Scottish royal family?
In her agitated state, Mary couldn't help thinking about Francis's recent photos with Olivia, and also all the time that he seemed to have been spending with Lola recently, since her argument with Narcisse.
Francis might have told Mary back in France that he would have chosen her if he did not have royal duties or a throne to consider, but the reality was that his royal duties were not simply going to vanish overnight. When it came to it, he would choose who to marry based on what he thought was best for the French crown, and he might not choose her. As much as it pained Mary to think it, there were no guarantees, when it came to Francis Valois.
If Francis announced that he could not marry her by the end of this process, then would it have truly been such a bad thing, to have met with Conde for an hour or two in London during the matchmaking process? Should Mary look for other options too, just in case?
What would the consequences be, if she got caught?
What would the consequences be, if she missed out on hearing something useful that could benefit the Scottish crown?
With a sigh, Mary finally made a decision.
Her curiosity, her desire to know secrets had been her downfall in the past, and yet she still could not resist when the opportunity to know another secret was put in front of her.
Quickly, she changed clothes, ran a brush through her hair, and put on a little makeup and jewellery.
She used her phone to get in contact with three of the guards who she knew a little better than the others, advising them that she had another appointment to keep in London this evening and asking them to arrange for one of the royal cars to drive her there.
She made sure to dress all in black, in clothes that could almost be considered casual. Just before she left her room, she put on a dark, hooded coat that she hoped would also serve as a disguise.
The corridor outside the hotel suite was quiet, and the lights had been dimmed for the evening.
Francis and his team from France were staying on another floor of the hotel, so it was unlikely that any of them would see her.
There were only a few guards standing at the end of the corridor to Mary's left, but they seemed to be gathered around a phone, watching videos, apparently bored of their nightly guard duty.
It was all too easy for Mary to sneak past them. She only had to briefly glance to her left to check that the guards' backs were still turned, before she took a turn to her right.
Mary considered taking the lift down to the ground floor to meet the other guards, but she decided against it at the last minute. There would be at least one security camera inside the lift, and it would be all to easy for the hotel to leak any surveillance videos of her to the press.
Instead, Mary headed for the stairs further down the corridor.
She walked down several flights, heading towards the ground floor. Perhaps there would be cameras in the stairwell, too, but she was sure that it would be more difficult for the cameras to get a shot of her from the stairs, especially as she made sure to move fast on her way down.
She had almost reached the ground floor when…
"Going somewhere?"
Mary came to a stop at the sound of a voice behind her. The tone was soft, smooth, almost deadly.
Slowly, reluctantly, Mary turned around and looked up.
Narcisse was standing a few steps above her, leaning against the wall with his arms folded and his eyebrows raised.
Mary sighed and shook her head. He had been so quiet, so distant during this trip, until now. This was the moment he had chosen to be sneaky and to follow her. He had crept up on her too; Mary hadn't even heard his footsteps behind her. She had a mental image of a snake, slithering silently through the grass, waiting for the most opportune moment to strike.
Mary briefly considered the possibility of just running, trying to get out of the hotel before Narcisse could find out what she was up to, but she knew her actions would only look more suspicious if she did that.
Instead, she tried to keep her voice level as she answered him: "Go back upstairs, Narcisse; this is none of your concern."
"I beg to differ," said Narcisse with a shrug.
He did not seem to be particularly concerned for her wellbeing or in any rush to stop her from leaving, Mary noted. Instead, he looked almost amused by her actions, like he was interested to see how this moment would play out, and he definitely looked curious about what she was up to.
"If you head out tonight and put yourself in any danger, then both our necks are on the line," Narcisse continued, his voice still calm.
Mary sighed. He was clearly still depending on her for his own career advancement. Narcisse always thought of himself and his own gain. But then, at least he was honest about it.
"I am going to meet with Louis Conde," Mary confessed, deciding that she might as well just be honest, now that she had got caught.
Conde did not look particularly surprised by this revelation.
"I'll go with you," he told her after a few moments' silence.
Mary was surprised by this. She had expected Narcisse to try to talk her out of going, or to call for the guards to escort her back to her room. Did she want him to talk her out of it? She wasn't sure.
"That really won't be necessary-" Mary started to say, before Narcisse cut her off.
"As much as I disapprove of your little outing," he said with a shrug, "I highly doubt I can talk you out of it. At least if I am with you, I can try to prevent you from making a mess of things PR-wise…"
Mary stared at him in silence, considering his offer. Was this truly his motivation, or was he leading her into a trap, trying to sabotage her in some way?
In the end, Mary relented. "Fine," she sighed. She wasn't sure if she had much choice but to go along with his request, now that he had caught her sneaking out. "Remember," she added, "the role of the future queen's Publicist is not yet secure; you still have to prove to me that I can trust you."
Narcisse simply nodded.
The guards were waiting for Mary in the hotel lobby. If they were surprised to see Narcisse walking a few steps behind Mary, then they didn't show it in their facial expressions.
Mary reminded them all that she expected them to be discreet about tonight's 'appointment', and they all nodded. She could only hope that she had enough authority to prevent them from telling her mother and her brother where she was heading tonight. But then, perhaps they wouldn't care-they had both suggested that Mary consider Conde as a marriage prospect after all.
Then, they all headed out of one of the hotel's back doors and into a waiting car.
Mary gave the driver the address that was printed on the card Conde had given her, and then she sat back in her seat, folded her arms and leaned her head against the car window. She almost felt like she was trying to make herself smaller, to hide away from any prying eyes.
"You must understand that this meeting will be considered as something as a conflict of interest," Narcisse reminded her in a whisper as the car made its way to its destination. "If any political discussions are to take place, then you must do all you can to keep those discussions private…"
Mary nodded, barely even listening to what her Publicist was saying. Her heart had started to beat faster, and she was struggling to concentrate.
"But then, you're not really going for political reasons…" Narcisse added with a smirk.
"Of course I am!" Mary snapped back at him, not liking where this discussion was going.
She didn't like the idea of there being some truth to his words.
The weight of what she was doing was really starting to push down on her now-Narcisse had a grudge against Francis, and he could easily spin this meeting between Mary and Conde into something that could hurt him.
Mary turned to look out the window, trying not to let her doubts show on her face.
The rest of the car journey passed in total silence.
Less than ten minutes later, the car pulled up outside a small establishment that was not too far from the House of Commons.
Mary covered her face as best she could with her hood before she stepped out of the car and headed inside, with Narcisse and the guards not too far behind her.
The place that Conde had given her the address for turned out to be a pub that was not dissimilar to the pub in the village in Scotland. It looked old-fashioned, with dark wooden floors and tables, a red rug on the floor and a large fireplace in the middle of the room.
Mary noticed a flag of Great Britain which was displayed on the mantelpiece, and a St George flag, along with several other flags from various countries around the world.
A few wooden bookshelves displayed copies of old books, and there was also a vase containing several red roses on one of the shelves.
Louis Conde was waiting for Mary near the back of the room.
He stood up as she approached, looking both happy and surprised to see her. Perhaps he had had doubts that she would show up.
He looked handsome, Mary thought, as she noticed that he was dressed almost casually now in a dark T-shirt and trousers.
"Mary," he greeted her with a smile as she went to take a seat opposite him.
Mary couldn't help smiling in return. She was happy to see him, in spite of the circumstances. He was a friendly face amidst the chaos that had been the matchmaking show.
The other customers at the pub didn't seem to be paying them much attention, but Mary was still glad that Conde had chosen a table in a quieter corner of the pub.
Candles had been placed on each of the tables, which made Mary feel a little uncomfortable-it made this meeting between them seem more intimate, as though they were on some kind of date, but when she quickly glanced around the room, she noted that there were only a few couples sitting at some of the tables. Other tables were occupied by what looked like groups of businessmen, or maybe even politicians-perhaps this was the place where they all went to unwind after a long day of work at the House of Commons.
She also noticed that Narcisse and the guards had taken a seat at a table a few feet away, blending in with the crowd, like they were just another group of businessmen, but Mary knew that they were close enough to take action, if it was required.
Conde seemed to glance at Mary's neck for a moment, and then what looked like a smug smirk crossed his face.
Mary glanced down and realised that she had put on her necklace of black ribbon tonight, along with several other pieces of jewellery. She blushed; in her hurry to get ready, she hadn't even realised that she had put the necklace on. The key and the ring and the house were on full display, lit up by the candlelight. Then she felt a little anxious as she realised the reason why Conde looked so smug; he must have taken her wearing of the house charm as some kind of message; a quiet indication that she was considering him as a romantic prospect.
Discreetly, Mary tucked the necklace into her shirt as she tried to make polite conversation with Conde, commenting on how nice the pub was and asking him about its history. Her thoughts were all over the place at the moment, and she had no idea what would happen when the matchmaking show came to a close; she did not want to offer Conde any false hope.
Conde asked Mary if she wanted any food to be brought over to the table, but she politely declined; she felt like her stomach was tied in a knot, and she wasn't sure she'd be able to eat anything.
He then offered her something to drink, but Mary opted for water instead of wine.
"How is the matchmaking show going?" Conde asked her.
"Fine. The same as usual," Mary replied quickly, trying not to give too much away.
She knew what Conde was doing-the question was not as casual as it might seem; he was trying to find out if anything had changed between her and Francis; or more accurately, if anything had happened that might have increased the probability of Mary leaving the show. But Mary did not want to get into a deep conversation with him about the show; although she knew that most of Scotland was watching the show on a weekly basis, it still felt like something personal between her and Francis-a journey that the two of them had been on together; something that she did not want to share with anybody else.
Conde seemed to sense that Mary was reluctant to give too much away, because he quickly changed the subject. He talked a little about his work in the English Parliament, and his life in London, before Mary told him a little more about the afternoon visit to London, and how she wished that the meeting with the Prime Minister had gone a little better.
Conde was easy to talk to, Mary noted. He nodded and laughed and smiled and gave looks of sympathy at all the right moments, and his tone of voice was calm and non-judgemental as he offered useful advice.
It was oh so tempting to simply share all of her thoughts and feelings about the past few weeks with him, to have somebody listen who might understand and sympathise, but Mary had to keep reminding herself that Conde's political and diplomatic background perhaps meant that he was well practiced in saying the right thing at the right time. She had no guarantee that anything he said and did was sincere, and as much as her mother seemed to support a potential match with him, he was still from one of Scotland's rival countries; Mary knew that she had to be careful about what she said.
Every now and again, Mary glanced over her shoulder to look in Narcisse's direction. Every time she looked, Narcisse would discreetly give her a thumbs-up or a nod or use various other hand gestures to indicate what he thought about what she was telling Conde.
Conde's expression suddenly became more serious, and Mary sensed that he was about to tell her the real reason why he had invited her here tonight.
"The English Prime Minister was very impressed with your speeches at the Scottish Parliament," Conde informed her in a hushed tone.
This news came as a surprise to Mary. "Really?" she asked Conde as she sat back a little in her seat, trying to keep her expression neutral.
"He could not tell you this too openly, for obvious reasons," Conde continued, which Mary took to be a reference to the strained relations between England and Scotland, "but he was impressed by all of your actions on the Scottish and French visits; we all were. He thinks you have a particular talent for speeches and negotiation."
Mary was both surprised and flattered to hear this. She had not really considered herself to have much talent at all in the public sphere, and any praise in those matters was usually saved for James.
"And of course, I also made sure to sing your praises after I witnessed your behaviour in France-especially after you confronted the king," said Conde with a hint of a smile.
Mary smiled in return, but she still felt confused as to where he was going with all this.
"The Prime Minister is interested in employing you for a role in England," Conde explained.
Mary almost knocked over her glass of water in shock. This was the last thing that she would have expected Conde to announce to her.
"He believes that with your talents, you would work well in diplomacy and international relations…"
Mary continued to stare at Conde, intrigued. This was exactly the kind of job that she had dreamed of when she was younger.
"And of course, with your Scottish background, your taking of a role in England would go a long way to mend relations between the two countries; as a royal, you could perhaps even establish connections with the royal family here..."
Mary could see the logic of it all; she could see the potential diplomatic benefits of such a role, but she reminded herself that she had to think rationally.
"And I suppose I would be expected to live in London?" she asked Conde.
Conde nodded. "You would be provided with accommodation, as a perk of the job-a house, here in London, or a luxurious apartment, and, well, I'm sure my own home wouldn't be too far away from where you choose to live…"
Ah, so that was a big part of all of this too, Mary realised. Conde was hoping that by working and living so close together, something might happen between the two of them; he was hoping that Mary might eventually move in with him.
"It's just something to consider, should the…show not work out," said Conde, like he was really trying hard to keep his tone of voice light, casual. "I imagine you would be eager to get away from Scotland and life at the castle for a little while, in those circumstances," he added. "Hopefully it will reassure you, to know that you would have a role waiting for you here, should a royal marriage not be on the cards; and it would reassure us, too, to think that there might be a way of working with a Scottish royal and improving relations…"
Conde went on to talk about the other benefits that would come with the job, like the opportunity to travel, and the chance to have her own platform to share her ideas, and the opportunity to build on and strengthen the English and Scottish relations that would be established through James's marriage to Kenna.
Mary listened, taking in his words. The flames dancing in the fire and the flames of the candles almost had a hypnotic effect. The room seemed warm, welcoming. She could almost smell the scent of red wine, as well as the red roses in the vase. Conde was telling her everything she wanted to hear...
It was tempting, oh so tempting. Her dream job, in a city she had always loved. The possibility of escaping from royal duties, and life in the castle; an escape from constantly performing for the cameras. It was what she had always wanted, wasn't it?
Everything was such a mess at home, with James and Kenna and Mary's mother. If Francis pulled out of the matchmaking process, then Mary would be left all alone in the castle, pushed to the background and only pulled out for public appearances and official engagements when her presence was required. She could lose her mother soon, and her father would put all of his focus into acting as James's adviser in order to distract himself from his grief. Who would Mary have by her side, on her team, in her corner, if and when all of that happened?
She thought of Conde's house in London; the house that looked just like her doll's house. Could she not find sanctuary there? Some kind of solace from a turbulent life in Scotland? The French king and queen could not get to her there, could they? Perhaps the masked figures and the mysterious whispers and footsteps would not be able to follow her to London…
She thought of Greer, who would be moving to London soon. Mary could be here, close to her best friend; she wouldn't have to part with her after all…
The flames continued to dance in the fire, and Mary found herself wishing that she had met Conde before the matchmaking show had started. Or maybe she still wished that she was just an ordinary girl who had met Sebastian in a Scottish village, free from complications…
But then one of the books on the bookshelf caught her eye. It was a book of fairy tales, and she could just make out an illustration of a prince wearing a crown on the book's spine. She thought of Francis. Francis, who had kissed her under the tree in the French royal garden, before he'd told her that she was the one who he would have chosen, if he had not had the burden of kingship waiting just around the corner. Francis, who Mary wanted to kiss over and over. Francis, who Mary had been in love with during their childhood years. Francis, who had asked her to dance in Paris. Francis, who posed for pictures with her outside tourist attractions in London and in Paris, like they were just an ordinary couple on romantic holidays together. Francis, who only today had shyly admitted that he had been too nervous to talk to Mary during their school days.
Lately, Mary had found that she was thinking about Francis all the time, even when she didn't want to.
It was too much. She had to get out of here…
"I should probably head back to the hotel," she told Conde. "Francis and I have an early start tomorrow…"
Conde's proposal was of no real benefit to the Scottish crown at the moment, after all, not unless Mary's circumstances changed in a few weeks, and she tried to tell herself that this was the reason why she was suddenly in a rush to leave.
Conde seemed to understand that their 'meeting' was drawing to a close, because he nodded and quickly finished what was left of his drink.
"The offer is there, should you wish to accept it in a few weeks' time," said Conde as he stood up to say goodbye.
"I will consider everything you have told me tonight," said Mary. "And thank you."
She truly was grateful for what he had offered her; she hoped he knew that. He must have gone to great trouble to be in a position to offer her a job like that in the first place; he must have really talked her up to the Prime Minister and other politicians, and encouraged them to follow her progress since she had first come to his attention.
Conde bid her farewell with a nod that was almost a bow. He looked disappointed to see her go.
Mary looked over her shoulder to indicate to Narcisse and the guards that it was time to leave.
For a split second, she was almost certain that she saw a face looking through the pub window, but then the guards stood up to leave, obscuring her view through the window, and when the guard finally moved out of the way, Mary could clearly see that there was nobody there. She shook her head, telling herself that she had only imagined that somebody was looking in, watching her.
Trying to regain her composure, Mary smiled at Conde one more time as he walked her to the door.
Mary took a few moments to breathe in the cool night air when she stepped outside.
She felt disorientated, like all of her thoughts were spinning out of control.
"Nobody is to breathe a word about the conversation that took place tonight," Mary instructed her guards and her Publicist.
Thankfully, they all nodded in agreement.
Mary could barely remember the journey home.
Mary woke up early the next morning, even though she felt like she had barely slept at all. It took a few moments to re-orientate herself and to remember that she was not in her room in Scotland but was in fact in a hotel suite in London.
Then, as she woke up a little more, her memory of last night rushed back to her. She remembered everything that Conde had said to her, in the pub…
Frantically, Mary reached for her phone. She checked her own personal messages and emails, and then she scrolled through news site after news site. She breathed a sigh of relief as her Internet search confirmed that no stories or pictures of her meeting with Conde had been leaked. Her secret was safe. For now.
Mary requested for breakfast to be served to her in her hotel suite. She was not yet ready to face Francis, or Narcisse; she hated the idea of her and Narcisse being in on some kind of secret together-a secret that they were not sharing with Francis.
The breakfast looked delicious, but Mary had little appetite. It took all of her effort to eat her food. She had to keep telling herself that she had a long day ahead and would therefore need to keep her energy up. Sometimes, nagging voices like these in Mary's head sounded suspiciously like her mother.
She was almost grateful for the distraction when her phone rang, but then she felt tense all over again when she saw that it was Kenna who was calling her. She had asked Kenna to keep an eye on Bash, and Mary was worried about what Kenna might have found out about him.
Luckily, Kenna had not found out anything of particular importance, but was simply calling to update Mary on what she had seen so far: "He has mainly been walking around the grounds and working in the stables," Kenna informed her, sounding far too enthusiastic for somebody who had been asked to carry out what was shaping up to be a rather mundane task. "He left once, to go to the village, but he wasn't out for long, and he returned with supplies for the horses. The guards in the village confirmed this for me when I double-checked with them…"
"Thank you, Kenna," Mary told her. She really did appreciate Kenna's help with this, although she suspected that Kenna had only agreed to it so she could spend a little more time with Bash.
"Did you know that he sometimes unbuttons his shirt when he's working outside in the hot weather?" Kenna asked Mary with a giggle in her voice.
"I have to go now, Kenna," said Mary as she rolled her eyes. Still, she couldn't help smiling as she hung up the phone.
It wasn't long before the stylists arrived to help Mary get ready for the day.
After she was ready, she looked in the full-length mirror in the suite's living room.
Today, she had been dressed in a red, medium-length designer dress. Her hair had been styled into curls, and red lipstick had been applied to highlight her makeup. She also wore gold jewellery, along with a few gold clips in her hair.
Mary had a feeling that she knew what kind of look her stylists and her Publicist were going for-she was supposed to stand out today; to look like somebody who England should not ignore.
As Mary adjusted her golden hair clips one last time before she walked out of the room, she realised that she did not look like a princess today; she looked like a queen.
They were running a little late for their first engagement, as it had taken longer than planned for Mary to get ready, and so Francis was already waiting for Mary in the royal car when she got in.
He seemed to stare at her in what looked like admiration for a long time as she sat down.
"Is my outfit to your liking?" Mary asked him, trying to keep things light, casual, and hoping that he somehow couldn't read the discomfort in her body language as memories of her meeting with Conde played uncomfortably in her mind.
"I would tell you looked beautiful, but I'm sure that would be an understatement," said Francis, his words and serious expression taking Mary completely by surprise.
Even Francis looked a little embarrassed at having said this out loud.
Mary felt herself blushing, taken aback by Francis's words. Was he flirting with her? Complimenting her? Either way, his words seemed to be sincere.
In the moment of silence, Mary took the moment to appreciate how handsome Francis looked in his well-fitted suit and his black tie and his crisp, white shirt. She was sure that the suit was designer and probably cost a fortune, but something about the way it fitted Francis in particular made it look even more perfect.
"I would tell you that you looked handsome, but I'm sure women tell you that all the time," Mary attempted to joke with him, trying to ease some of her own embarrassment.
"It would mean more though, coming from you," Francis told Mary with a smile and a raised eyebrow, making Mary blush all over again.
She wasn't sure if she was annoyed or relieved when they were interrupted by the sound of a call coming through on Francis's phone.
Mary could see from the name on the phone screen that it was Francis's mother who was calling him.
For the rest of the car journey, Francis spoke in a hushed tone to his mother in a mix of French and Italian.
Mary got the impression that the two of them were attempting to negotiate some sort of last-minute deal.
The Prime Minister raised an eyebrow a little as Mary and Francis approached him outside 10 Downing Street, but he quickly schooled his features back into a more neutral expression.
Mary wondered if there was something a little shocking about the way they were dressed today. Perhaps they looked a little too royal, a little too threatening, for his liking.
Still, Mary and Francis made sure to bow and shake hands and remain polite and professional.
The cameras from the matchmaking show filmed the moment, and then Mary and Francis posed for a few more press photos with the Prime Minister.
Remembering Narcisse's advice from yesterday, Mary made sure to pose correctly for all of the photos, allowing the photographers to get the best possible angles. She tried to look happy and relaxed in most of the photos, so that the public would not be able to guess at any tension between England and Scotland, and then she took a few more photos with a serious expression, trying to look more regal and to create a strong image, just in case any of the newspapers wanted to go for that angle when they published the photos. She also made sure to shake the Prime Minister's hand for the cameras as he bid Mary and Francis farewell.
Mary wasn't exactly sure what to make of the English Prime Minister, but she made a silent vow to invite him to her wedding, if she ended up being a part of a royal wedding when the show was over, just to see if the diplomatic gesture would serve to ease any past grudges or tensions.
Next, Mary and Francis were driven back towards Chelsea for their final engagement.
Mary had had the opportunity to choose the location for her speech in London, and Mary's mother had agreed that Mary could give the speech on the steps outside her old school, which had been closed for the occasion. Mary had already anticipated that the Prime Minister would not be overly enthusiastic at the idea of a Scottish royal giving a speech on Parliamentary ground.
A crowd seemed to have gathered on the street leading up to the school. Mary wasn't sure at first if the crowd had gathered to see her and Francis, but when they got out of the car, she saw that the press had also assembled around the stone steps outside Mary's school.
Mary wasn't sure if word had now spread that there were two royals visiting London, or if Narcisse had put in a few calls to alert the media of their presence, but still Mary was glad that there would be an audience for her speech today.
Francis was able to offer more visible support for Mary during this speech, as his input would not be seen as a conflict of interest in the way that it would have been viewed in Scotland, and so the two of them walked up the steps together.
Mary was glad to have Francis standing next to her. It always felt easier to face challenges when he was around.
"Thank you for your invite to visit your wonderful city, and your wonderful country," Mary addressed her audience.
She was determined to keep the tone of the speech positive, but still she kept her expression serious. She wanted to look regal, and she wanted to inspire confidence, even though a lot of people hadn't put much confidence in her.
Francis stood beside her, standing up straight with his hands behind his back, looking out at the crowd without a hint of fear on his face.
He already looks like a king…Mary thought to herself.
Narcisse stood at the back of the crowd, dressed in a smart suit and looking every inch the businessman. His expression was unreadable, and it gave away no hint that he had helped Mary to sneak out last night.
Mary shook her head. She couldn't think about that now. Right now, she was a princess, a potential future queen, and her own personal life was irrelevant. She had to do her duty for her country.
"Our visit has been a positive one," Mary continued. "Your leaders have made us most welcome. We are already eager to visit you again. We hope to continue to strengthen relations between England and Scotland; two great countries. My brother's upcoming marriage to Lady Kenna will be a wonderful opportunity to strengthen those relations; relations which we will continue to build on."
Conde's words yesterday about James and Kenna's marriage had inspired Mary to add this into her speech.
Mary talked a little bit longer about her school days in London, and all the places in London she loved to visit. She wanted to establish a clear link between the Scottish royals and the English city, so that people would see her as being involved and invested in the English city.
There was a round of applause after Mary finished speaking, to her relief, then it was Francis's turn to speak.
"France will offer its full support to strengthening the bond between our beloved countries," he announced to the crowd.
He projected his voice perfectly, with just the right amount of authority mixed in with genuine concern.
People seemed to stand up a little straighter when he spoke; he commanded their attention.
He was born to be a king; Mary knew that. She had always known it. The idea filled her with both pride and sadness.
"We will seek to strengthen relations between France and Scotland," he continued. "We will also offer any help that we can to strengthen the bond between England and Scotland."
Mary was relieved that Francis's words were highlighting and supporting her own aims. The Prime Minister might have given them something of the cold shoulder, but together, Mary and Francis were working to bring all three countries together, regardless of what the Prime Minister thought.
"And, as a token of our appreciation for the sacrifices that Scotland has made to accommodate France," he added, "I can announce on behalf of France that we will be offering a substantial financial gift to support Scotland's security expenses…"
This announcement drew surprised gasps from the crowd.
Mary was sure that she froze to the spot for a few moments in her shock at this announcement. She felt light-headed, weak at the knees. She couldn't believe what Francis had just said.
France was going to foot the bill for Scotland's extra security. They were going to offer this money as a token, a gift, even without a guaranteed marriage alliance between France and Scotland.
How had Francis ever got the king of France to agree to it?
No, Mary realised, this had been Catherine's doing-it was a token of thanks for Mary's promise during yesterday's speech that Catherine would be protected if Mary became queen; it was an expression of gratitude for Mary's positive comments about France to the Scottish public.
Scotland finally had money for security. It was almost unbelievable. They could now use the Scottish budget for other things; the Prime Minister could start to make educational and health reforms; perhaps more employment could be created.
The Prime Minister was probably dancing in celebration at this news. Her re-election was now almost guaranteed.
The queen of Scotland had been eased of another burden.
Mary was perhaps a little uncomfortable at the idea of the strings going in even tighter between Scotland and France as a consequence of this pledge, but she could not think of her own worries right now; this additional support would improve the lives of many others; it would win more support for the Scottish royal family with their subjects.
Francis's public pledge was also yet another PR goal that had just been scored; it showed that Scotland had a powerful ally in France; it showed that Scotland had support, and could therefore be a formidable opponent against England, should it ever get to that. It would mean that they would not have to rely on English approval so much, and could instead focus on establishing a relationship based on mutual respect and equal status between England and Scotland.
Trying to shake herself out of her state of shock, Mary thanked Francis for his pledge on behalf of Scotland, and expressed her wish to continue to build positive negotiations between their two countries.
It was only after their speeches drew to a close and Mary and Francis were posing for a few photographs for the press that Mary started to truly feel a sense of guilt.
Francis had made such a generous offer to Scotland; he had taken an unprecedented action to help her and her country, potentially putting his family's reputation at risk as a result; he had been trying to thank her for her own actions during this visit, and yet only last night, she had snuck out of the hotel to meet with Louis Conde. Would Francis have been quite so generous, if he had known where she'd been last night? Mary could only hope that he never found out. There was much more at stake now than her own happiness.
The air around her suddenly felt thick, oppressive. Mary wished that she could get out of this place; get out of this city; she wished that she could be at home already.
She stood back a little and allowed Francis to take centre stage as they made their way slowly back to the car.
Francis was a natural with the public, making polite conversation and smiling at everybody. People seemed to be drawn to him. He looked so happy, to see some young children in the crowd, and he knelt down to talk to them at their level, making them feel at ease.
A part of Mary wanted to beam proudly at him and place her hand over her heart in admiration, but she knew she couldn't do that; they were still out in public, and she was still feeling uneasy.
"Francis, I don't even know how to thank you," Mary whispered to him the moment they were back in the car.
"You have nothing to thank me for," Francis whispered to her, a reassuring smile on his face. "Consider it a gift," he added, with another smile. "It's the least my country can do, after everything we have put you through..."
Mary struggled to blink back tears from her eyes. Everything about the past couple of days had been so overwhelming.
Mary had always loved London, but she felt more than a little relieved when the royal cars finally drove out of the city, on their way to the private airfield in the English countryside.
The views of the countryside from the car window were beautiful, but still Mary felt like she wasn't far away enough from the city. She felt the strange, urgent sensation of trying to escape from something; it was the same feeling that she had had when the matchmaking show had first started and she had fled from the room at seeing Francis, but she wasn't exactly sure what she was trying to escape from now.
It was only when the private jet was flying through the clouds that Mary finally allowed herself to sit back a little and relax.
She must have been more exhausted than she had first thought, because she felt herself drifting off to sleep, only to wake up as the plane was landing in Scotland to discover that she had leaned into Francis in her sleep.
Mary might have felt embarrassed by this action, at another time, but she was still too exhausted to think clearly, and her body felt heavy, weary.
For his part, Francis had put his arm around her shoulders in what Mary knew to be a very rare gesture from him, and he was holding her close, like he was trying to make her more comfortable.
"Don't leave," Mary mumbled in her half-asleep state; words that she knew she would be mortified by when she was fully awake.
"I'm right here," Francis replied, with definite amusement in his tone.
Apparently, Francis hadn't worked out yet that Mary was talking in the long-term, rather than talking about the current moment.
When the plane came to a complete stop at the end of the runway, Francis stood up and held out a hand to help Mary up.
Mary took his hand, trying to ignore the smiles and the giggles from the cabin crew and various members of the Publicity Team.
They all knew that this gesture was no PR stunt, in the privacy of the plane, and it seemed that they found it to be sweet.
Mary kept hold of Francis's hand as they walked down the plane's stairs and headed in the direction of the waiting cars just outside the airport.
She stayed close to him in the car, leaning her head on his shoulder again as they began the first leg of the journey home.
Francis did not move away.
They were allowed a brief pause for refreshments and to change into more casual clothes at one of Mary's family's royal residences in the Scottish countryside, and then they were driven to a nearby train station.
Mary's mother had truly surpassed herself in her arrangements for the final part of the journey home. She had booked out the whole of a Scottish train to take Mary and Francis and their teams back towards the castle.
Even in her tired and anxious state, Mary could not fail to muster a smile as a smartly-dressed member of the train's crew opened the door to one of the carriages so that she could step inside.
Mary and Francis ended up sitting in the carriage at the back of the train. Mary made a point of requesting a little privacy, and so all of their travel companions had left them alone in the carriage, choosing to spread out into the other carriages instead. Mary could just make out a few of the guards through a small glass window that offered a glimpse into the carriage in front of them.
Mary and Francis sat separately at first, taking in the views of the Scottish Highlands through various windows in the carriage.
Mountains and rivers and fields seemed to fly by the window. Scotland truly was beautiful, Mary thought to herself, in spite of its current grey skies. She felt a profound sense of loss at the idea that this country might no longer be her home in the near future, regardless of how the matchmaking show turned out.
It occurred to Mary that her brother had not contacted her once during her visit to Edinburgh and Scotland, not even to check how the political negotiations were going. Who knew if or when their damaged relationship would be repaired? Perhaps she would no longer be welcome at the Scottish castle after the wedding.
Mary had changed into a casual red jumper before she got on the train, removing her makeup and letting her hair fall in loose curls over her shoulders, no longer caring about looking perfect for the cameras.
She bowed her head a little and wrapped her arms around herself, like she was seeking more of the jumper's warmth.
She chanced a quick glance at Francis, who was looking out of a window on the other side of the carriage. He had changed into one of his trademark white jumpers, and his hair looked a little dishevelled, now that he was off duty. There was an expression of awe and wonder on his face as he watched the hills and valleys speed past the window while he occasionally brushed a stray blond curl away from his face.
Francis truly was beautiful, too, she thought.
It was a beauty that went beyond outside appearance. There was a goodness in his heart. When Mary was around him, she felt like she wanted to be a better person. Everything seemed to shine a little brighter when he was close.
Quietly, Mary removed the black ribbon that she was still wearing around her neck. Then, she untied the knot and removed two items from the ribbon, placing them in a back pocket of her bag before she tied the ribbon back up again and put it back around her neck.
Her actions would seem trivial to the untrained eye, but Mary felt as though a significant event had just taken place.
With her necklace safely tucked back into her jumper, Mary went back to glancing out of the window, huddled into her jumper.
"What are you thinking about?" she suddenly heard Francis ask her in barely more than a whisper.
Apparently he had moved to sit beside her while she'd been lost in thought. He must have sensed her growing anxiety, or some dark thought going on in her head, and now he was trying to reassure her; he was trying to see if he could help in some way.
Mary turned from the window to look right at him.
She thought about what he had said, about how he wanted her to choose based on what her heart told her.
A strange sort of silence seemed to pass as they sat looking at each other.
Acting on impulse, Mary leaned forward a little, closing the gap between them. And then she kissed him.
Their kisses in France had been so perfect, and Mary had been wanting to kiss Francis ever since, but with everything else that had been going on, the opportunity had not presented itself. Until now.
Francis seemed surprised for a moment, but then, thankfully, he kissed her back, putting his arms around her to pull her in closer.
The kiss started off urgent, almost frantic, their lips moving rapidly as they held each other tight. It was like they were both trying to say so much through their kisses; words that they could not say out loud.
But then their kissing became slower, more tender. Mary ran her hands gently through Francis's golden curls as Francis ran his hands gently through her hair and up and down her back.
Sometimes, they moved apart a little, only to briefly look into each other's eyes, before they moved in closer and kissed all over again.
It was like neither of them wanted to break apart.
Everything else in their lives felt so messy, so complicated, right now, but for Mary, this moment was perfect. She wished that she could kiss him forever; she wished that this moment would never end; she wished that royal duties were not waiting for them only a few miles away in the Scottish castle.
Francis had asked her to choose with her heart.
As Francis placed a gentle kiss to her cheek before his lips found hers again, Mary knew that if she could choose with her heart and her heart alone, then her decision had already been made.
And-even though Francis was unaware of it; even though he was unaware of the true meaning of Mary's necklace-tucked safely inside her red jumper, only the key remained on the black ribbon, right over her heart.