He had just spent the afternoon consulting with his steward
about building three new cottages down by the river and making improvements to some
of the existing ones where the tenants had lately been complaining of leaky roofs
and poor drainage.
There was much to be done and he was glad of the distraction. It kept his mind off
certain other things and helped him to sleep better at night when he found himself
reliving particular moments from the past.
The scorching sun was high in the sky when he trotted into the stable courtyard, dismounted
and handed the reins to a groom, then stalked to the house for an early luncheon with
his mother. The soles of his boots crunched heavily over the loose gravel as he pulled
off his riding gloves and dabbed at the perspiration on his forehead.
Leopold looked up at the sky and wondered if Petersbourg had ever known such a hot
summer before. He certainly couldn’t remember one. It was impossibly sweltering and
damned uncomfortable, and he wished the heavens would open up and dump some cold rain
on his head.
After changing out of his riding boots and donning a clean shirt and light jacket,
he strode into the luncheon room where his mother was already seated at the white-clothed
table reading the Petersbourg Chronicle.
She set it down when he entered. “Leopold, I’m glad you’re back. Have you seen the
paper?”
He stopped in his tracks, for she had that look about her. Something had happened.
“I had an early start this morning. Why? What is it?”
He pulled a chair out to sit across from her while she folded the news sheet and handed
it to him. He read the headline quickly while working to control the sudden rapid
beating of his pulse.
When he finished the article, he set the paper down on the table. “Well, then,” he
said. “This confirms it. I am a free man.”
“It appears so.”
It was good news, but shocking all the same, for the woman he had been pledged to
marry since birth—the secret Tremaine princess—had just wed Randolph Sebastian, future
king of Petersbourg.
The article implied it was a brilliant love match, the stuff of fairy tales, for whilst
in England, Prince Randolph and his brother Nicholas had switched identities to ensure
Randolph found a lady willing to marry him for love, not his crown. Randolph had wooed
Alexandra the old-fashioned way.
What a shocking surprise when they each discovered the truth—that he was, in actuality,
first in line to the throne of Petersbourg, and she was a direct descendent of the
Tremaine dynasty, a true blood princess.
Fate, surely, had intervened and brought these two together.
The story caused Leo’s jaw to clench, for when it came to love, the fates had been
quite uncooperative and rather obstinate in his case. All they ever did for him was
keep him alive on the battlefield—a miraculous feat if there ever was one—but there
were days he wondered if that had been a blessing or a curse.
The marriage of Randolph and Alexandra was a blessing for the country, the Chronicle reported, for it would at last unite the two opposing factions—the traditional Royalists
and the progressive members of the New Regime.
“Nicholas wrote that,” Leopold said, tapping his finger on the paper. “He knows just
how to present something to sway the popular opinion.”
“You’re probably right,” his mother replied. “But how will your father feel about
this? I cannot imagine he is pleased. He has coveted the throne since the day they
buried Oswald. He wanted it for you. ”
Leo sat forward. “I do not care one way or another how Father feels, and neither should
you.”
His parents had been separated since he was ten. They parted ways not long after his
two younger sisters died of typhoid.
The duke and duchess did not share the same political opinions. His father was a secret
Royalist. His mother sided with the New Regime. To put it plainly, they
about building three new cottages down by the river and making improvements to some
of the existing ones where the tenants had lately been complaining of leaky roofs
and poor drainage.
There was much to be done and he was glad of the distraction. It kept his mind off
certain other things and helped him to sleep better at night when he found himself
reliving particular moments from the past.
The scorching sun was high in the sky when he trotted into the stable courtyard, dismounted
and handed the reins to a groom, then stalked to the house for an early luncheon with
his mother. The soles of his boots crunched heavily over the loose gravel as he pulled
off his riding gloves and dabbed at the perspiration on his forehead.
Leopold looked up at the sky and wondered if Petersbourg had ever known such a hot
summer before. He certainly couldn’t remember one. It was impossibly sweltering and
damned uncomfortable, and he wished the heavens would open up and dump some cold rain
on his head.
After changing out of his riding boots and donning a clean shirt and light jacket,
he strode into the luncheon room where his mother was already seated at the white-clothed
table reading the Petersbourg Chronicle.
She set it down when he entered. “Leopold, I’m glad you’re back. Have you seen the
paper?”
He stopped in his tracks, for she had that look about her. Something had happened.
“I had an early start this morning. Why? What is it?”
He pulled a chair out to sit across from her while she folded the news sheet and handed
it to him. He read the headline quickly while working to control the sudden rapid
beating of his pulse.
When he finished the article, he set the paper down on the table. “Well, then,” he
said. “This confirms it. I am a free man.”
“It appears so.”
It was good news, but shocking all the same, for the woman he had been pledged to
marry since birth—the secret Tremaine princess—had just wed Randolph Sebastian, future
king of Petersbourg.
The article implied it was a brilliant love match, the stuff of fairy tales, for whilst
in England, Prince Randolph and his brother Nicholas had switched identities to ensure
Randolph found a lady willing to marry him for love, not his crown. Randolph had wooed
Alexandra the old-fashioned way.
What a shocking surprise when they each discovered the truth—that he was, in actuality,
first in line to the throne of Petersbourg, and she was a direct descendent of the
Tremaine dynasty, a true blood princess.
Fate, surely, had intervened and brought these two together.
The story caused Leo’s jaw to clench, for when it came to love, the fates had been
quite uncooperative and rather obstinate in his case. All they ever did for him was
keep him alive on the battlefield—a miraculous feat if there ever was one—but there
were days he wondered if that had been a blessing or a curse.
The marriage of Randolph and Alexandra was a blessing for the country, the Chronicle reported, for it would at last unite the two opposing factions—the traditional Royalists
and the progressive members of the New Regime.
“Nicholas wrote that,” Leopold said, tapping his finger on the paper. “He knows just
how to present something to sway the popular opinion.”
“You’re probably right,” his mother replied. “But how will your father feel about
this? I cannot imagine he is pleased. He has coveted the throne since the day they
buried Oswald. He wanted it for you. ”
Leo sat forward. “I do not care one way or another how Father feels, and neither should
you.”
His parents had been separated since he was ten. They parted ways not long after his
two younger sisters died of typhoid.
The duke and duchess did not share the same political opinions. His father was a secret
Royalist. His mother sided with the New Regime. To put it plainly, they
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