Princess Annie by Linda Lael Miller

give the poor man a chance, I think—”
    “No!” Phaedra cried. “I know now that I could never love him! Never!”
    “What did he do to inspire such a violent reaction?” Annie asked, honestly puzzled. “You’re acting as though he has horns and cloven hooves.”
    Phaedra was nearly hysterical by that point and could offer no sensible response. Annie found a cup behind the altar, wiped it clean with the hem of her petticoat and went out into the courtyard seeking water. She found a fountain near the front entrance to the chapel, filled the cup and returned to the princess. Phaedra took the drink almost desperately, clasping the chalice with both hands, and when she’d emptied it, she was calmer.
    Annie sat beside her, waiting in silence.
    Finally, after considerable snuffling and a few pathetic whimpers of despair, Phaedra turned to her. “It isn’t that he’s horrible, or ugly, or bad,” she confided, in a small, stricken voice. “It’s just … well, I’ve been praying all these years”—she paused and glanced accusingly at the altar—“that I would feel something when Mr. Haslett and I finally met. It would have been a sort of sign from heaven that we’d be happy together.”
    “And you didn’t feel anything?” Annie prompted, full of sorrow. Her only experience with love—the star-crossed passion she felt for Rafael—had been rich with sensation.
    “That’s just it,” Phaedra confided earnestly. “I did . It was terrible—something dark and crushing. Annie, I think it was a warning.”
    Annie straightened her spine. “Well, then,” she said, resolute. “You’ll just have to go to Rafael and tell him the marriage is off. Perhaps he won’t welcome the news, but in time he’s certain to adjust.”
    The princess shook her head, the very vision of despondency. “You don’t understand. Rafael would rather die than break his word.”
    “But you said before that someone else made the original agreement. If that’s the case, Rafael wouldn’t be going back on his word—how could he, when he never gave it in the first place?”
    Phaedra looked smaller somehow, as though she were shrinking under the weight of her troubles. “I can’t bear it, Annie. I can’t bear it.”
    A feather-brush of fear touched Annie’s heart, for there was a note of true desperation in Phaedra’s tone, and people did rash and foolish things when they were desperate….
    Annie took both the princess’s hands in her own and gave them a reassuring squeeze. “If you won’t talk to Rafael,” she said, “then I will. Somehow, I’ll make him understand.”
    “He’ll never listen,” Phaedra insisted, but if Annie wasn’t mistaken, there was a faint glimmer of hope in her eyes.
    “I have to try,” Annie said. She knew how brusque and imperious Rafael could be, and the task ahead of her would not be an easy one. Should the effort fail, she and Phaedra could always run away to the Trevarren villa in Nice; Annie’s mother and father could be counted on to help.
    Phaedra nodded and wiped her ravaged eyes with the heel of one palm. “All right,” she said softly.
    As it happened, Annie had no opportunity to speak privately with Rafael for the rest of that day, for no sooner had the contents of Mr. Haslett’s carriage been unloaded and his men and horses assigned their proper and respective quarters, when another coach arrived. This one, too, Annie saw from an upstairs window, was surrounded by soldiers.
    She knew before the elegant, graceful woman stepped down from the carriage that Miss Felicia Covington had arrived, as commanded. Annie’s heart twisted in her bosom when she saw Rafael crossing the courtyard, his flashing white smile visible even from the second story, and for some perverse reason she could not look away when he kissed the woman on the mouth.
    Involuntarily, Annie raised the fingertips of her right hand to her lips and touched them, feeling Rafael’s kiss after the morning’s fencing