Page 13 of The Wrong Royal
I walked downstairs. My parents and Victoria were enjoying the cheese platter that had been sent by some of their friends, welcoming them back to England.
Victoria whistled when she saw me. “You clean up very nice.”
“Thanks.”
“Just remember to be yourself,” Mom said. “She’s going to love you.”
“I’m just hoping she’lllikeme,” I said.
“Her father assured me this daughter is a good choice.”
“You mean after the first choice cut and run in the middle of the night to avoid marrying me?” I asked sarcastically. “If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again.”
“Stop,” Mom scolded. “I’m sure she’s lovely.”
“You have to say that because she’s the only other daughter,” I said. “If this doesn’t work, what’s the plan? Do I stick with the season or head home with my tail between my legs?”
“It’s going to work. Her father insists it will. He’s trying to save face after the first debacle. Trust me, he’ll chain that girl to the estate if he has to.”
“Gee, Dad, that makes me feel a lot better.”
“It’s time to go,” Jack said.
“Good luck!” Victoria called out.
“Have a good time,” Mother added.
I took a deep breath, trying to quell the nerves in my stomach. The last thing I wanted was to end up back in the marriage market. But as I stepped outside and made my way to the limo, I felt a sense of dread. What if this girl was just like her sister, running at the first chance she got? Or what if she was just plain boring?
The limo pulled up to the grand estate in a line of other limos and luxury vehicles. I stepped out and took a breath of fresh air before following the other tuxedo-clad men inside.
The moment I stepped into Lady Hamilton’s grand ballroom, my senses were overwhelmed by the opulence that surrounded me. The room was a breathtaking spectacle, far more magnificent than anything Roman had described. Crystal chandeliers the size of a car hung in perfect rows over the expansive room, and a live orchestra filled the air with a melodious symphony that seemed to breathe life into the very walls.
Men in black tuxes like my own mingled with various drinks in their hands. I could feel their excitement. They were all looking forward to meeting their future wives. The whole thing reminded me of a livestock auction I went to with a friend back in the States. His family owned a ranch that bred elite horses that sold for millions of dollars. We sat in the stands and watched the parade of horses brought out with the announcer explaining why they were so valuable.
“Thank you.” I took a glass of champagne from one of the waiters making their way around the room. Small tables designed for two people were set up in a semi-circle around the dance floor. The floor above was open on one side with a balcony of sorts overlooking the ballroom. More tables were arranged up there where the older members of the society sat and watched what the younger generation was doing. It was a way for them to chaperone without being in the way.
I found my designated table and took my seat, with my eyes scanning the room. Roman’s stories of this very room came rushing back, and I couldn’t help but marvel at the reality that now unfolded before me. It was my turn.
Lady Hamilton, a vision of grace in her elegant gown, made her rounds, and her warm smile greeted me as she approached. The Ashford family and Lady Hamilton had always shared a close bond, and I regarded her as the fairy godmother of the wedding seasons, the orchestrator of the most important events in our society. She was the keeper of secrets. She knew just about everyone. She gossiped but she never revealed secrets meant to be held close.
“I’m so glad to have another Ashford in the season,” she said, smiling. “You’re just as handsome as your brother.”
“Thank you,” I said, smiling.
“You’ve been matched with the beautiful Emilie Hansen.”
“That’s the plan,” I said, laughing. “Assuming she doesn’t take one look at me and run in the opposite direction.”
“She would be crazy to do so. You’re quite the catch. I must run. Things will be underway very soon.”
I sat down and glanced around the room. I recognized familiar faces, the younger brothers of the men who had attended last season’s event. It was a reminder of how swiftly time had passed and how quickly it was now my turn to participate in this carefully choreographed dance of love. Next year, assuming my season went well, Victoria would be making her debut.
The moment of truth arrived as Lady Hamilton announced the beginning of the ladies’ descent. The orchestra shifted seamlessly to a romantic tune, and my breath caught as I listened for each name, my eyes fixed on the descending figures.
Name after name was called, and I watched with a growing sense of excitement. And then, there she was—Sophia, a name that still sent ripples of memories through me from last season. Though her presence seemed somewhat subdued, she retained the air of confidence that had marked her as a force to be reckoned with. Sophia, though less overtly dramatic, still possessed a captivating aura, a reminder that the path to love was seldom straightforward.
She was Roman’s failed match. I was a little confused to see her making her second debut. The worddebutwould imply you only got one shot. I assumed she was allowed to re-enter the season to try again since she was jilted by Roman. Last year, she’d been very obnoxious. Roman tried, but he couldn’t tolerate her. I met her and thought she was a spoiled brat.