Page 3 of Learning to Rule

Mother fucking asshole!

“Elodie.” Dalton catches up to me in a long room full of portraits of his ancestors looking down on us from on high. He grabs my arm and turns me to face him. “Will you listen to me?”

His face is a picture of anger. He appears as livid as I feel. I stand still and wait for his explanation.

“I will not be marrying Marianne, and this is the first I’ve heard of my betrothal to her. I love you, Elodie, and my father is playing games. I’m so angry at him for hurting you this way, but you have to trust me. I won’t let him get away with it.”

My entire body is shaking, “I can’t believe he did that. Who is this Marianne? Do you know her?”

“He’s a complete bastard, but honestly, Elodie, I never thought he would do something like that.”

I allow Dalton to pull me into his arms. I need his comfort after the shock I’ve just received. I feel sick…as though my world has been turned upside down. I was so happy to come here, and now all I want is to return to America. Dalton leads me to the side of the room where there’s a gold inlaid chair with floral fabrics. He helps me sit down on it without letting go of me.

“Marianne is a childhood friend of mine. I can assure you there has never been anything between us. I’m not her type. You, on the other hand, could be.”

“What?” I pull back from Dalton and stare at him.

“She revealed to her family she was a lesbian when she was fifteen. I already knew, but it came as a shock to her parents—they were horrified and blamed me for putting her off men because of my behavior as a kid.”

I feel the chuckle build deep in my stomach. “Well, the way you behaved when I first met you almost put me off men for life.”

“It’s good to hear you laugh. I really am sorry about what happened. I’m livid at Marianne for even agreeing to this.” Dalton shakes his head.

“Do you think maybe she doesn’t have a choice?” I question.

“What do you mean?” Dalton cocks his head.

“Does the court know she’s a lesbian?” I ask, a sudden thought hitting me.

“No, I’m the only one who knows. Her parents have managed to keep it very quiet. If you think my father is bad, then you need to see hers. He’s even more of a dick than my father.”

“Wow, he must be awful,” I exclaim mischievously.

Dalton puts his head in his hands.

“I’m so sorry, Elodie. I had no idea my father would do this. I don’t know what to say. I’m not going to let him boss me around. Do you want to go back to America?” He lifts his head as he asks me the question.

“No, I’ve come all this way, and I want to see more of your country. I’m not about to let your father chase me away—plus, I’d like to have the chance to prove to him I’m not a hippy who’ll bring down his precious royal family. Mr. Hinchbottom has been training me. I can be a princess if I need to be,” I respond with a steely determination.

“I have no doubt about that. You’re already my princess.” Dalton lets out a deep sigh. “I’m going to have to go back in to see my father soon. I walked out on him, which is bound to have made him even angrier. No one does that to him.”

I snuggle into Dalton and laugh softly against his chest. “Well done. He’ll be lucky if I don’t give him a piece of my mind the next time I see him. Jerk.”

“King Jerk to you, peasant,” Dalton adds in amusement.

“Sorry, Your Highness.” I roll my eyes, and leaning back in the chair, I look at the pictures around us. “We need to speak to Marianne as well. Find out what threat your father is holding over her. If we can deal with that, then we’ll be able to remove one obstacle he’s put in our way before finding out what else he’s planned—I don’t think he’ll allow us to be together easily.”

“I agree. He’s going to make this as difficult as he possibly can. I need to talk to Marianne. I want to know why she’s agreed to this before I go back to him. My God, I am very fond of Marianne, but the thought of having to make a baby with her is sickening. She’s like a sister to me.”

“I’m glad you feel that way. She is pretty, though.”

Dalton winks at me. “Watching the two of you together might be interesting.”

“Take a cold shower. It’s not going to happen.”

“Damn.”

I look at a few more of the portraits. One of them, in particular, catches my eye. It’s an old painting of a gentleman dressed in clothes from the Tudor era.