Page 96 of The Wrong Royal
“I thought we could eat outside. It’s a gorgeous morning.”
“Where is Astrid?”
“I told her to take the morning off,” I said, laughing. “I realize now that might have been a little forward. Sorry. She said she put out your dress and she could come back and do your hair, but for what it’s worth, I think your hair down is beautiful.”
“Thank you,” she said, laughing, and touched her long strands. “I’m sure I have serious bedhead.”
“It’s beautiful. And sexy.”
We went out to the table. We began to eat, and the conversation flowed naturally between us. It started with simple topics—our plans for the day, our thoughts on the upcoming horse races, and the beautiful weather. There was an ease to our conversation that felt different from the tension that had been looming over us lately. It was exactly what I hoped for.
Emilie and I lingered on the front porch, basking in the warmth of the morning. The gentle breeze ruffled her hair. It was about the most perfect morning possible. The birds were singing and flying from tree to tree.
“I should go home and get ready for the races,” I said. “Do I need to come back early to do your hair? I could ask Victoria if you would prefer.”
“I’m just going to leave it as is. Believe it or not, I usually leave my hair down when I’m not attending an event.”
“I’ll see you soon,” I said.
I gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and went home. Jack was gone, which I expected. I showered and dressed for the horse races. It seemed silly for us to be taking different cars, but it was all part of the game. We had to play along.
I arrived at the event before Emilie. I got myself a drink and scanned the area looking for Charles. I didn’t see him yet. As I walked through the groups of men and women talking, I couldn’t help but overhear a conversation that piqued my interest. They were discussing Emilie’s family, specifically her father and the longstanding tradition of the Hansen family. My curiosity got the best of me, and I decided to join in on the discussion.
“Excuse me, gentlemen,” I said and casually put myself in the small group. “I couldn’t help but overhear you mentioning the Hansen family. What are you guys talking about?”
One of the men, a bit older than the rest, turned to me and raised an eyebrow. “Ah, you must be the match paired with Emilie Hansen,” he remarked with a knowing smile. “I know your father. You’re Theo Ashford.”
I nodded, acknowledging his observation. “Yes, I am. But what’s the story about her family?”
The man leaned in as if he was about to share a well-guarded secret. “The Hansen family is known for one thing above all else—making matches solely based on money and business. For generations, they’ve had the most beautiful women gracing the Wed season, but the man who marries into the family never truly gets a wife. He’s a cash cow. A stud. They only choose the richest, handsomest men to make sure they ensure the best offspring.”
One of the guys laughed. “It’s like choosing the right stud or brood mare. It’s all about the right bloodlines and making sure only the best get through.”
I couldn’t hide my surprise at his words. It wasn’t exactly a shocking revelation. After all, I had been paired with Emilie as part of a strategic alliance between our families. I knew they saw me as the bank. But to know everyone else knew was humiliating. I did feel like a stud horse. I knew they wanted my money, but to know it wasn’t just that was a little icky. I didn’t want to be used for my sperm and money.
I glanced around at the other gentlemen, who nodded in agreement with the older man’s assessment. One slapped me on the back. “It’s not a bad job,” he said, laughing. “I wouldn’t mind breeding one of the Hansen women. They’re very easy on the eyes. But there is a curse.”
“A curse?”
“They seem prone to girls,” he said, shrugging. “The king and his brother were an anomaly.”
“You know that’s not true, right?” I said. “There’s nothing that says they only have girls. Not to mention, that comes from the men they marry.”
He scowled, looking at me like I was raining on his parade. I turned and walked away from them. I didn’t want to listen to their bullshit.
Obviously matches were based off looks, money, and title, but I didn’t want to be a joke to all these morons.
Doubts crept in, and I couldn’t help but wonder if I was just another pawn in a larger game. I was the dude that was being relied on to produce pretty offsprings that would go on to marry kings. The Norwegian royal family would be the most powerful in the world. Assuming I produced the right kids that were as pretty as their mother.
It was all so gross. And cheap. And clinical.
“Theo!” Charles called out and waved.
I joined him under one of the tents. “Good to see you,” I said.
“Is Emilie here yet?”
“Not that I’ve seen,” I said.