Chapter 14: Waterside

Brighton Beach, England. July 5th, 1808.

"I simply cannot believe how beautiful this town is, Jamie," Marianne said as she rode alongside her very much new husband. After two months of marriage and a month traveling through Scotland for their honeymoon, they had spent a couple of weeks in London to catch up on some work for James and to socialize a little as newlyweds before leaving the town for the summer months; Brighton had been their beach resort destination and they had yet to find time to try the bathing machines.

"I agree," he replied with eyes only for his lovely wife. "I have spent many a summer here with my sister growing up and I have so many memories out of it." He smiled as Marianne breathed in the salty sea air. "I wished to add you to those memories and for you to create your own here as well."

"Rest assured, husband, I shall make many wonderful memories here with you." They shared a loving smile, entirely oblivious to the world around them. For some meters behind them was a small regiment of redcoats guarding them, conducted by Captain Clinton himself. They were giving them the privacy they needed, yet they had their eyes on them the whole time.

James was wearing a light suit made of beige linen fabric, perfect for the hot summer months. Marianne, though she was not rising sidesaddle like a proper princess should have done, was wearing a cream-colored riding gown with extra fabric in the skirt so her legs would still be covered and her riding properly to anyone watching them. She sometimes wished she could be herself at all times, but alas. The title she had gained by marrying a certain Alexander Dawson forbade it unless they were utterly alone. James knew that, of course, but there was not much he could do about it unless he made time with his wife in the privacy of their home.

They rode in silence, their legs brushing as their two horses walked very close to one another. Marianne's hairdo was coming apart due to the strong sea wind and her hat was doing nothing to hold it together. James wanted nothing more than for it all to come loose, for he loved to run his fingers in her long blond hair as he kissed her and made love to her.

"What are you thinking about, Jamie?" Marianne asked him with a sly smile. "You have that look on your face." One she knew all too well by now.

"A look?" he said, feigning denial and ignorance. "What look?"

Marianne giggled and looked at the soft waves lapping at the sand. The beach went on for miles but they were soon arriving at the end of town.

James turned around to look at Clinton who immediately responded in silence. The prince shook his head to him, their signal for the soldiers to stop following them so they could have their privacy. Clinton nodded and sent the redcoats away although he would still follow the couple alone at a far distance. The crown prince of England still needed some semblance of guarding.

"I want to show you my favorite spot in the area," James said. "Come on!" And with a grin on his face, he giddied his horse up, sending the black stallion into a gallop. Marianne followed him laughing and they rode like this against the wind for a few minutes. Quickly, the small town was out of view, leaving place for green fields with tall dancing grass and seagulls circling the skies above them, screaming. Instead of leading them over the cliffs and on the carriage path that followed the coastline West, James made a turn left, going down towards the sea and the rocky beaches. He slowed his horse so as for it not to twist an ankle and make them all fall. The waves there were slightly bigger and crashing against the rocks.

"This place is so wild!" Marianne said, sliding off her horse just as James had. "I can see why you love it."

James chuckled and secured their horses to a rock. He unrolled the blanket that was tucked under the saddle and spread it on the beach, securing it with four rocks at each corner. While Marianne was watching him and wondering what he was up to, James started to undress.

"Jamie! What are you doing?" she exclaimed, looking around. "Someone is going to see you!"

The prince shrugged off his large linen shirt. "Clinton will make sure no one comes here," he replied. "Besides, if someone stood at the top of that cliff," he added, pointing at the stone wall above them, "they would have to look underneath themselves, not just down." He paused, still undressing. "I am going into the water for a swim. Will you join me?" By then, he was only in his trousers and had taken his wife's hand in his. He kissed it.

"This is madness," she said. "But yes of course I am going in the water with you." With a grin on her lovely face, the new princess of England took off her hat that had fallen down her back and held only by the blue ribbons around her neck, let loose her hair, and turned around for James to untie the laces of her dress, which he did not have to be asked twice to do.

In a matter of moments, Marianne was only in her shift, her under-panties in a heap on the ground around her feet. She was not quite ready to go about the beach stark naked, so she followed her husband in her white underdress. James did not have the same modesty and went into the water completely naked, leading his wife by the hand.

As their feet reached the water, Marianne gasped in surprise at the sheer coldness of it.

"I assure you," James said, "it is quite alright once you are in it. The hard part is getting in," he added after a brief pause.

Marianne took a deep breath, gathered her skirt in one hand, and walked purposefully into the water, right past her husband and breathing quickly as the water rose to her thighs, her crotch, her belly, and then she stopped just before the water covered her breasts.

James, still standing at the water's edge, was watching her, laughing. He followed her, plunging head first into the water and immerging only next to her, scarring her and making her giggle at the same time. He wrapped his arms around her thin frame and kissed her deeply, bringing the rest of her body into the water. The waves lapped at them, making them go up and down, as they kissed and laughed together.

"Your lips are turning violet," James said after a little while. "We should get out of the water, dear."

"I assure you; I am perfectly fine."

"No, your teeth are clattering, come." James carried her bridal style through the water towards the beach and put her on her feet when they were out of the water. The white shift was clinging to her body, revealing everything that she had wanted to keep covered for prudishness' sake. James stared at her, wanting nothing more than to take her, right then and there on the beach. She was shivering in her shift, the wind creating goosebumps on her skin.

"Take off your shift," James said, his voice suddenly husky. "You will be freezing otherwise."

Marianne laughed. "Is that your idea of getting me naked?" she teased him. "Because if it is so, then it is working." With her husband's help, they peeled off the underdress and he laid her down on the blanket he had prepared beforehand. He kissed her deeply and she responded to his eagerness, lifting her hips to him.

/ / /

Brighton Pavilion, England. July 13th, 1815.

After a hearty breakfast with everyone – for the first meal of the day was an important social meal, indeed – James sent a note to one of the Selected through a maid for a private outing:

Miss Butler, please meet me near the lake behind the Pavilion in an hour for a stroll. HRH Prince James.

It was more of an order than an invitation, but he did not care. As long as he went through the list Henry had made and he survived until the end of the month for his male guests to arrive, everything would be well. He went to his chambers to get dressed for a morning outing and when he saw that he still had more than half an hour to wait, he sat down on the armchair near the unlit fireplace and took his sketchbook and charcoals, figuring he could use the time to practice his art.

He sketched his hand, but it did not turn out the way he hoped, so he tried drawing his last companion, Lady Davies. It was a quick sketch but quite resembling if he had to say so himself, at least from memory. But he would have to hold the drawing next to her face to make sure it was right.

When the old clock on the wall stroke ten thirty, he put his papers and charcoals away, secured his top hat on his head, and headed outside. He followed the dirt path to the lake, tipping his hat to ladies on his way there, and saw that the lady in question was already waiting for him. She was standing at the end of the peer, dressed in a bright green short-sleeve dress with a straw bonnet and a matching green ribbon. Her white lace gloves contrasted with the dress and she turned around when she heard his boots on the pier.

"Your Highness," she said, curtsying.

"Miss Butler," James greeted with a tip of his hat.

"Thank you for having me this morning," she said with a shy smile.

"Of course." James did not tell her that it was not his choice, but Henry's list that put her fourth. "Shall we?" he asked her, motioning the path with his gloved hand. Anastasia obliged and walked past him and onto the path; James followed her and held his hands on his back as they walked side by side, the lady on the water's side.

"I hope you are enjoying your time here, Miss Butler," he said for lack of any other idea of conversation. Henry should have written conversation ideas on his list as well.

"Oh, yes!" she said. "Everything is wonderful and each person so kind."

"Even the other ladies?" James asked, surprised. He knew that women put against each other for a rather grand prize such as himself could turn them into quite feral creatures; he had seen it firsthand during the London Seasons he had participated in, although not for himself since he had his bride rather quickly. But he had seen it for dukes and viscounts and earls enough times.

Anastasia giggled lightly. "I believe we are all finding our bearings for now and some might be calculating the others and their chances at staying or not." She paused. "The competitiveness, if that is what you are asking, is not quite yet to its highest point, sir."

"I see." And the longer it would remain that way the better, for their chances at marrying him were quite low. But chances at marrying with a good match? Much higher, once his friends came. They walked for a while in silence, letting the small lake waves lull them into a calm and peaceful place. A couple of swans landed on the lake and Miss Butler stopped to admire them.

"They are so beautiful," she said in wonder. "Did you know that swans mate for life, Your Highness?"

"No, I did not," he said. "What happens when one of them dies, then?"

"It takes a while, but eventually they seek a new partner." She paused. "At least that is what Lady Diana Gray told us the other day. She is rather knowledgeable about birds, I daresay."

"Yes, she told me her father was writing an encyclopedia on the beasts."

Anastasia laughed softly. "Everyone knows about it, by now, my lord."

James smiled at that and watched as the two swans created a heart with their two long, graceful necks. "They seem to be quite in love, do they not?"

"Yes," Miss Butler said, her voice full of wonder. She tucked some light blond curls behind her ear and looked up at the prince, smiling softly. "I hope you may find a new partner one day, just like these beautiful birds, Highness," she added in a soft voice, keeping her eyes on the white creatures. "But it will not be with me."

"Why not, may I ask?" James was curious. Why was she here, then?

"You are a very fin man– or at least from what I have seen so far," she started to explain, stumbling a little on her words. "But I– Are we allowed to leave the Selection, Highness?"

"You are not prisoners, of course, you are allowed, Miss Butler." He paused. "Is there a problem? Has anyone hurt you in the slightest?"

"No! No, it is not that, I assure you!" Anastasia said. "Lord Windsor told us that we must not leave unless you have dismissed us. And…" she trailed off, not knowing how to word her need.

"Yes?"

"I received a letter this morning from my uncle– My father's brother. My father was in a hunting accident and–"

"Is he alright?" James asked quickly. "Of course, you must go to him if you are his only family, Miss Butler."

"Oh, really, I may?" she said, hopeful.

"Of course. I will have Henry arrange a carriage and an escort back home." He turned around to backtrack back to the Pavilion and invited her to follow him. "You have not answered my question," he said kindly. "Is your father alright?"

Her fist clenched in her skirt. "I do not know, my lord," she said. "The letter says he was shot by accident in the leg, but the letter dates from a week ago. He could be gone, by now."

"I see," James said. "For your sake, I hope he is alive, and you should leave today." They arrived at the Pavilion and sought Henry out to tell him the bad news. "Miss Butler," James said before he bid her bon voyage and wished her a positive outcome of the situation. "Please write to me the moment you get home to tell me of your father's fate. I will help you in whatever way I can if he has passed."

"Thank you, my lord, you are too kind." Anastasia Butler curtsied and went to pack her trunk while the carriage and escort would be readied for her.

Henry turned to the prince with a frown. "Who are you and what have you done with the Prince?"

James raised an inquiring eyebrow. "Whatever do you mean, Henry?"

"Since when did you start caring about these ladies? Two weeks ago, you would have sent her home without a word of sympathy. But now you offer your help if she finds herself fatherless?" Henry smiled, almost wanting to hug his friend.

"I am not a heartless monster, Henry," James retorted. "It was the civil thing to do." And with that, he went to his chamber to prepare for luncheon. But to be honest, he had done that because that is what Marianne would have done, and she would have wanted him to do the same. It was his way of keeping her close even though he was trying to let go of the past.

/ / /

Pavilion Music room, Brighton, England. Later that same day, in the afternoon. 1815.

It had started to rain just after luncheon and no one had predicted it, but such was the sea weather in England, and most had not been surprised by it.

A group of young ladies had found themselves suddenly in the rain, a table laden with tea and cake and cushioned chairs set under a small group of trees in the garden. Several footmen had helped them, carrying the furniture while they transported the food and drinks, running back inside.

Lady Rebecca Howard had found the whole ordeal quite funny once they had been inside and their small tea party had been set up in the Music room in the east wing of the Pavilion. The big windows overseeing the garden and the rain outside made the whole room quite gloomy, so a servant had lit the candles in the chandelier hanging over the pianoforte.

Miss Felicity Hathaway, Miss Henrietta Grace, Lady Yvaine McIntyre, and herself had calmed down from the run and sat around the small table.

"I shall replenish our teacups," Henrietta said. "Would you like some tea, Lady Howard?"

Rebecca nodded. "Yes, please." She accepted the cup Henrietta Grace was handing to her and sipped her tea with the saucer in the other hand, her pinky finger slightly raised. She knew her manners and her etiquette were flawless, and she was going to show the others that she was flawless. "Lady McIntyre," she said as the redhead lady from Scotland sipped on her tea as well. "Would you play the pianoforte for us, if you please?"

"Oh, I am not an expert," she said. "But I can play a piece or two if you would like."

"Oh yes, please do!" Felicity Hathaway said. "I simply love music!"

Yvaine nodded, sipped some more tea, and then put her cup on the table before making her way to the pianoforte. Rebecca wondered if music would attract the Prince to them. She had heard that Princess Marianne, his late wife, was quite the player. She would have done it herself, but it was most improper to offer herself to play; quite selfish, indeed.

Lady McIntyre's elegant fingers ran on the black and white keys, playing a piece by Mozart – Rebecca would have recognized it anywhere since it was a piece every little girl who was to become a proper lady learned at some point in her education. Lady Howard kept an eye on the door to see if he would come.

"Oh, that is so lovely!" Felicity said. "I wish I could play this well."

"Can you not play, Miss Hathaway?" Rebecca asked. She would not have been surprised, for she was not a Lady of the London Gentry, but she had still participated in the last four Seasons, so her family must have had some money to pay a piano master, no?

"I can, of course, but I am certainly not proficient. My older sisters are quite good at it, though."

Ah, so she was the youngest sister. Rebecca wondered if she had met them during past Seasons, but the name meant nothing to her.

"Your Highness!" she said, seeing the prince standing in the doorframe but not coming in. "Please, do come in," she offered with a sweet smile. "Does Lady McIntyre not play magnificently?"

"Yes, of course," the prince replied, nodding his agreement. But his eyes were on the pianist, not on her who was inviting him inside. He cleared his throat and stepped in, running a hand on the polished wood of the instrument. "I do beg your pardon for barging in like this," he said. "I simply, er, had not heard this instrument in a long time."

"Did your dear wife use to play on it, then?" Rebecca asked softly, tilting her head to the side, making a golden strand of hair fall on her shoulder.

"Yes," James said, keeping his eyes on the piano. His voice was this close to shaking, but to her surprise, he swallowed back whatever emotion was going on and straightened, ready to take his leave.

"Might we offer you a cup of tea, my lord?" Rebecca asked. "To make up for the rain and the gloominess of the afternoon."

"And cake?" Henrietta offered, already holding the silver knife over the pink cake.

Prince James held his hands behind his back and looked at the ladies, in turn, finally noticing them all in the room. Yvaine was still playing the Mozart piece which was quite long in fact, but she played more softly so they could have a conversation without shouting at each other. "Of course," he said, his face not showing a single ounce of emotion. "Tea and cake sound delightful." He pulled an extra chair towards them and sat. Rebecca offered him a cup of tea, and Henrietta a slice of cake.

"I do hope you like strawberry cake, Your Highness," Henrietta said.

"Very much," he replied with a tight smile. Just then, Yvaine ended her piece and joined them around the tea table. "That was a lovely performance, Lady McIntyre," he said. "Mozart, I believe?"

"Yes, it was," she said. "Did you know it?"

"Yes," he replied, but he did not elaborate, and Rebecca thought it would be heartless and impolite to pry, especially since she had already mentioned the Princess once.

"Sir, do you play an instrument?" Rebecca asked instead.

"No, I do not." He sipped on his tea. "I love listening to people play though, but I cannot do it myself." He turned to Henrietta. "Miss Grace, I do hope you are still up to what we discussed in our first meeting."

Rebecca tried not to show her jealousy, for that would have been very unladylike. What on earth had they talked about?

"Oh! Of course, Your Highness," the brunette replied. She looked around the room, seeming to look for something, and then smiled when she did. Rebecca followed her gaze. In the corner of the room, where Henrietta was looking, was a harp covered by a canvas. "Is it tuned, sir?" she asked.

James raised an eyebrow. "I have not the slightest idea, Miss Grace. I shall inquire to Henry about it."

"Thank you, Your Highness," Henrietta said, looking away.

"I am certain the prince has other things to tend to than to listen to you play the harp, Miss Grace," Rebecca said. "Such as actually getting to know you. Do you not think a good conversation would suffice during your private moment with the prince?"

"Lady Howard," Yvaine said softly in her Scottish accent, keeping the kindness in her voice. "If His Royal Highness and Miss Grace already settled on her playing the harp for him, I do not think it is our place to change that. Besides," she added, "I would think how someone plays an instrument is fully sufficient to get to know somebody, especially if they pour their soul into their art."

"Of course," Rebecca said with a practiced smile plastered on her face. "I would never assume one is not proficient in one's art." She cut a small piece of cake with the side of her fork and turned to Henrietta. "Dearest, I do hope to hear you play as well, one day. In fact, you should play for us all, to entertain us."

"Oh, yes! That would be lovely!" Felicity said. She had not participated much in the conversation up until now, and Rebecca had almost forgotten she was there altogether. "I also hear the Dowager Countess of Hailey is an excellent pianist."

Yvaine smiled. "Yer Highness," she said. "Do ye think it would be possible to organize a small concert, here in Brighton?"

James put his empty cup on the table and offered a smile, which to Rebecca's judgment, was more of a grimace. She was yet to see a genuine smile on the royal's face. "I suggest you talk about this with Henry. I have no doubt he would accept."

"I will do that," Yvaine said, nodding. "Thank ye, Highness."

The prince took out a small watch from his pocket and looked at the time. "I have to go, do excuse me, ladies," he said, standing up. He offered them a quick bow before departing the room and leaving them to their tea and cake.

"It is just me or does the prince look and sound melancholic?" Felicity asked. "I feel that he does not enjoy the Selection."

"Of course, he does not," Rebecca said, still very polite and all smiles. "We are here to replace his wife. From the stories I heard, it was the most romantic love match the Ton had seen in a long time."

"Yes, I heard they were made for each other," Henrietta said. "I do feel bad for him: he did not choose any of this, did he?"

"No, the King sprung it on him, just like that," Rebecca said as if the gossip ran through her veins. "My mama told me she heard from someone who heard it from a maid who works at the Palace that he was very angry about it and asked Lord Henry to oversee the whole event so he did not have to deal with his father over this."

"Very tragic indeed," Felicity said. "I really hope he will be able to find love again."

"I doubt it," Rebecca said flatly. "A love like that one is only found once in a lifetime. Mark my words," she said. "He will only marry the one of us he dislikes the least."

/ / /

Pavilion, Brighton, England; July 14th, 1815.

For the fifth private outing, Henry had listed a Scottish lady and James had already invited her to come. As per their formal introduction and first conversation, he knew that the lady would like to ride to their destination, which suited him perfectly. He had arranged for them to meet at the stables wearing riding clothes. He was there first in his forest green light riding suit with a matching top hat, and he took the time to feed an apple to his black stallion. The prince had his back to the door, but he distinctively noticed two sets of steps, and one of them was not an adult. He turned around only to see Dame Beitris MacLeod dressed in a fine riding dress made of light but sturdy green fabric with her long hair in elaborate braids held by a matching green bonnet.

Next to her was a little girl dressed in blue with a bonnet that seemed too large for her. James did not know what to say– this had not been in the invitation.

"I hope ye do not mind, Highness," Beitris said, offering him a soft smile. "I simply wished to get to know yer daughter too, and I thought that an outing the three of us would be nice on this fine day."

James frowned but then his face softened as he looked at his daughter who was looking at him with eyes so full of hope. She did not utter a word, though, and simply waited for his verdict.

"Very well," he finally said. "But we do not have a pony or–"

"That is alright, sir," Beitris said. "She can ride with me."

"Are you sure?" he asked. He had never ridden with her or with anyone else, so he would not even know where to start. Even Marianne had always wanted her own horse and they had never ridden together on the same animal.

"Absolutely," the redhead replied with a satisfied grin. Next to her, Eleanor was beaming.

A groom handed Beitris Molly, the horse used for the prince's outings for a female companion, ridden sidesaddle. "I hope you do not mind the saddle," James said.

Dame MacLeod made a face but then shrugged. "I will make do, sir," she said. "But I will not be able to have the Duchess on my saddle, like this."

"Oh." James looked at his horse, then at his daughter, and then back at his horse. It could not be that complicated, right? "Very well," he said, lifting his daughter right under the arms and sitting her on the saddle, right behind the pommel. "Hold on tight while I climb behind you, Eleanor," he said. He grabbed the front of the saddle and the back with both hands, put his foot in the stirrup, and pulled himself up, swinging his right leg over the horse's rear and then took the reins in his hand. He quickly looked at Beitris and she was smiling and winking at his daughter. So, this had all been a scheme to have him ride with her. He did not know if he had to be happy or angry about it, but he decided he would be happy. No one, until now, had offered to have his daughter with them on the outing, and he was looking for a mother for Ellie in the first place.

"Shall we go, then?" he asked. In front of him, Ellie nodded and Beitris also said aye, so they started their short journey to the beach. Everyone was quite silent, and James slowly relaxed as he rode with his daughter in front of him. He could feel her small frame quite rigid against him but he did not know what words would help her relax as well. This was probably the closest they had been since he held her the day she was born.

They rode in silence until they reached the beach, going through the promenade road at the forefront of town. "We shall continue on foot," James said. He swung his leg over the saddle and hopped down his horse. He carried little Ellie down as well and put her on the ground. "Do you need help getting down, Lady MacLeod?" he asked, seeing as she was still on her horse.

"Aye, please," she said. "I am not used to riding as such."

"Of course." He tied his horse to the railings of the promenade road and helped Beitris down.

"I thank ye, my lord," she said, adjusting her skirts and her bonnet. The three of them walked towards the sea, their steps softened by the sand. The water seemed to be quite far away, leaving the beach wide and flat. A great number of people – couples, people alone, or even larger groups – were also promenading on the sand, and some noticed the prince, the duchess, and the lady dressed in green, discreetly pointing at them, showing them to their friends and walking companions.

"Father?" the duchess said tentatively.

"Yes, Eleanor?" he replied softly. "What is it?"

"I the sea like a big lake?"

Beitris quickly glanced at the prince, surprised. "Have ye never seen the sea, dearest?" she asked.

"No, milady."

James felt awful for that, if he had to be honest: how had he never shown his daughter the sea? But then again, he had not come to Brighton since Marianne's death, so of course, Ellie had never seen it either. "The sea is much greater than a lake," he started to explain. "The two main differences are the size and the water. The sea is salty."

"Really?" the little girl said.

"Yes," Beitris continued. "And I heard there are colorful fish in the sea, but the lake only holds dull, uncolorful fish."

"A lake is enclosed on all sides by land, while the sea and the ocean are around a whole country or continent," the prince continued.

Eleanor was looking left and right at the two people trying to explain what the sea was as if she was watching a game of Jeu de Paume.

"Come see for yerself, dear," Beitris said, taking the young girl's hand in hers and making a beeline for the water's edge, where tiny waves were gently lapping at the sand.

James followed behind, feeling like a complete failure of a father who had never explained to her child what the sea was. He who had loved it so dearly ever since he was a child, how could he have omitted that with his daughter? Ahead of him, Beitris and Eleanor were standing at the edge, and she was pointing to the horizon. He could not hear what they were saying, but simply watching them made his heart clench in his chest. It should have been Mari in her place, showing their daughter the wonders of the sea, teaching her which seashells to pick and which to leave, how to bathe in the small waves, and how to love it. But instead, it was a stranger who was telling her all that, and the thought of leaving for America made itself welcome again in his mind.

"Look, father!" Eleanor said, running towards him with something in her hand. "Is this not the prettiest thing you have ever seen?" She handed him a light blue seashell that was not broken or chipped, her eyes full of wonder and happiness.

"Yes," he said, taking the shell in his hands and inspecting it before handing it back to her. "It is quite so, indeed."

Beitris and the duchess walked around, bent in two, looking for more seashells to bring back home. After a while, their hands were too small so they stopped and Beitris carried them all in her skirts while Eleanor ran around in the small lapping waves, laughing.

"She deserves to be a carefree child," Beitris said softly. "I had my own childhood stolen; I would wish that on no one."

James clasped his hands in his back as he watched his daughter. He cast a quick glance towards the lady in green next to him, then back at the little girl. "She is the Heir Apparent, Lady MacLeod," he said. "She might be the next monarch if I do not have a son. She cannot be carefree."

"Yer highness," Beitris said. "She is but four years old!"

"I am highly aware of that, thank you." He was not happy to be lectured about how his daughter was brought up, even though she was not entirely wrong.

"And she needs her father," the lady continued. "I know too well what it is like to have a father who has completely shut down because of grief. Please, I beg you, sir. Do not do that to her." She paused as they both looked at the little girl running around and splashing about, laughing, as the hem of her dress become wetter by the moment. "Look at her, sir. She is happy right now."

James could plainly see she was, but it could not last: the girl might be the next queen if his plan not to marry worked, so she needed to learn early. "We should go back," he said instead, not replying to anything Beitris had said. "Eleanor!" he called out. "We are leaving." He did not even wait to see if she had heard, for he quickly turned around and walked back to his horse.

Behind him, Beitris waited for the little girl and they walked back to the horses as well. James lifted Ellie up and put her on his saddle, then helped Beitris on hers without a word before climbing behind his daughter and leading the way back to the Pavilion. The ride back home was a silent one, but James' mind did not stop for one second.


Hello there, and thank you for stopping by and taking the time to read! :D

the first elimination/dismissal is done (don't worry, it was a character who was never submitted in the first place, and there are several of those before the real ones start). also, that last date did not really end well... uh-oh...

anyway, thank you for your reviews and your enthusiasm for this story, I have a lot of fun writing in regency-style English, it helps a lot for Nano, because there are a lot more words hehe... oh, speaking of nano, I finished my 20k goal yesterday, so yay!

byeee see you next time (I do not have any more chapters in advance, now I will post them as I finish writing them hehe).