Page 5 of A Royal Obligation
“I know, Dad, I’m working on it. I won’t fail you. I just… I need to find a man who loves me for me, not someone who is after my title or my money.” Jules heard Charlotte’s gentle voice respond.
Realizing she was eavesdropping on a sensitive conversation, Jules quickly knocked on the door, not wanting to hear anything she wasn’t supposed to. Charlotte answered the door and smiled at her, welcoming her into the room.
The duchess smiled at Jules and turned to her husband. “Come now, Vincent. We will let these girls eat their dessert in peace.”
The duke grumbled but took his wife’s hand and followed her out.
“Did you hear that conversation?” Charlotte whispered, a blush climbing her neck and landing on her cheeks as she filled her plate with desserts from a cart piled with various treats.
“Not if you didn’t want me to.” Jules gave her a soft smile.
Charlotte allowed her polished facade to slip as she leaned back and fell into a couch cushion. She nibbled on a mini chocolate cheesecake bite from her plate.
“My father makes me feel so worthless at times. Like I’m a pawn he moves around to benefit him rather than a daughter he loves.” Charlotte sighed as she stared at the floor, her body drooping into a defeated position. She selected another decadent chocolate dessert off her plate, shoving it in her mouth.
Charlotte was always so put together. However, the usually confident Charlotte was twisting her hair in anxious motions. In that moment, Jules saw her as an actual person. Someone who just wanted to be loved and seen for who she was. Someone not so different from herself after all.
“I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine the weight you must feel being in the public eye all the time and then feeling the same pressure at home. I’m here if you need anything.” Jules set her hand lightly on Charlotte’s arm.
“Thanks, Jules. I didn’t mean to diminish our celebration. Please, eat some of these with me before I demolish them all.” She gestured to the dessert cart.
“Don’t mind if I do.” Jules carefully selected some sweets and enjoyed them while conversing with Charlotte.
After they both couldn’t eat another bite of food, Jules rose to her feet. “I should be going. I have a lot of packing that needs to be done.” She paused at the door.
“Of course. Here is the paperwork you will want to bring back with you.” Charlotte handed it to her. “I’ll send a maid to help you pack tomorrow morning, and we’ll make sure you get everything moved in.”
“I appreciate it. Thank you again. I’m thrilled to join your staff.”
“I'm glad to have you.” Charlotte smiled. “I hope you have a pleasant rest of your evening.”
Jules let herself out and drove home. Nervous excitement flooded her as she thought about the next job she would have to tackle—being a personal assistant to a member of a royal family. How hard could it be?
Chapter Three
Barrett
Barrettrosefromhisbed and started getting ready to do the same thing he did nearly every day. For someone who thrived off of routine and stability, he felt overwhelmed by how much he had yet to learn before he would ascend the throne and become King of Wistonia. According to him, there would never be enough time to prepare to be the king he wanted to be. The king the people needed. The king the people deserved.
He walked over to the intercom system near his door and held down the button for the butler’s quarters. “Wadsworth, please have some tea and scones brought to the library. I will be there momentarily.”
“I’m already on it, Your Highness,” Wadsworth’s throaty voice bellowed back.
Barrett thanked him and finished putting on his staple outfit: a crisp, white button-down shirt, black trousers with a matching suit jacket, and an emerald green tie that matched the main color on the Wistonian flag. After his tie was perfectly in place, Barrett grabbed his shoulder bag that held all of his readings for the week.
He exited his room and walked down the hallway, passing the other family bedchambers, toward the stairs leading down to the second level. Crown molding lined where the walls met the ceiling and elaborate gold light fixtures illuminated every inch of the hallway.
Barrett entered the library and a smile spread across his face as he inhaled the smell of old books. He walked past the rows of spotless, white shelves with ornate carvings that were filled with books from centuries past. He kept walking until he reached his preferred table right in front of the windows that overlooked the palace gardens.
From this view, he could see the swirling pattern of all the flowerbeds and the hedges that were uniquely cut as an ornamental decoration between the sections of different flowers. They all led to a beautiful pavilion in the center. Lush, ivy-covered archways stood within some of the hedges to allow faster access to the pavilion for those who didn’t want to walk through the entire spiral design.
Barrett felt a tug on his heart as he looked out at his favorite place. The one that reminded him the most of his mother because it was her favorite, too. His father and brother didn’t like talking about her much, which was why he had never told anyone why he favored working at this table in the library over working in the study where he had ample space to carry out his duties.
He had lost his mom, Queen Margaret, when he wasn’t yet a man. When he was sixteen and Liam was thirteen, they had gone on a family horseback ride in the woods behind the palace. Everything was going fine until his mom’s horse was spooked. Her horse reared and she had fallen backwards, hitting her head on a rock. Their medical staff had diagnosed her with a concussion, but she ended up passing away in her sleep that evening from what they later found out to be a brain bleed.
There was so much he wished she had been able to see over the years. And there were so many times that he wished he could bend her ear and get her advice. Queen Margaret was a planner, and she had written letters for Barrett and Liam for scenarios they may likely encounter in life in case something happened to her. Before she died, she gave them letters whenever she saw fit. He used to laugh at them, wondering why she gave him letters when she could simply talk to him about the things in them. But now, looking back, those letters were a never-ending gift that continued to give him strength and wisdom whenever he felt lost.
After she passed away, it seemed the responsibility of distributing them had fallen upon Wadsworth’s shoulders. Barrett had broken down the first time Wadsworth gave him one on his eighteenth birthday. He had been overwhelmed with joy that he could continue to hear more words from her during the important moments in his life, even if she wasn’t physically there to experience them with him.