He had a feeling Aunt Genevieve would understand the way his father did not. Could not. That was why when she had asked him to take her into the city, he couldn’t refuse.
Of all the royal coach house’s carriages, Charles commissioned the most ordinary one for the day’s tour, the one he and his father took when they didn’t want to draw attention on the road. It was plain as any merchant’s coach, bearing no flag with his family’s royal crest, and no coat of arms painted on the doors.
Sure enough, Aunt Genevieve was already seated inside, her tiara sparkling in the wan morning light. She waved her fan when she saw him.
“You seem to have inherited your father’s punctuality,” she said dryly. She looked him up and down. “And the stable hand’s sense of fashion.”
“Good morning, Aunt Genevieve,” the prince said in greeting. He darted a glance at the empty seat beside her; part of him had almost hoped she’d brought her attendant so that he might have a second chance at meeting her. But his aunt was alone. Of course she was alone!
So why had his heart skipped a beat in anticipation of possibly seeing that girl with the blue eyes again?
Quickly, he recovered himself and bowed. “My apologies, Aunt Genevieve. It seems I’ve kept you waiting again.”
The duchess clicked her tongue. “It’s becoming quite the habit with you, Charles. First my welcome lunch, now this. I have half a mind to go back inside and catch up on my sleep.” She waited for her threat to sink in. Before Charles could respond, she continued, “Luckily, it’s a beautiful morning for a ride out into Valors, and I’ve already dismissed my girl until lunch.”
Charles cocked his head slightly, tempted to ask where her attendant had gone.
“Come on, get inside. The sun isn’t getting any younger, and neither am I.”
With a smile, the prince obediently entered the carriage and signaled for the driver to take off.
As the coach lurched to a start, his aunt grabbed the side of her seat and snapped her fan closed. “Tell me, was it your idea to fetch me in this gourd of a coach, or your father’s?”
“Mine, Aunt Genevieve. I thought we might see more of the city if we weren’t recognized. If you are uncomfortable, we can change to a different coach.”
“No.” To Charles’s surprise, his aunt doffed her tiara, tossing it aside. “Always scratches my head, anyway. Besides, if you’re going to be dressed like a commoner, I am certainly not going around looking like a duchess.”
Charles leaned back, hiding a smile. No wonder he’d always liked his aunt.
“Look at you, my boy.” Genevieve patted his shoulders. “Such a strapping young man. You must have gotten your good looks from your mother. Heavens knows they weren’t from George.”
The prince laughed in spite of himself. “I’ve missed you, Aunt Genevieve.”
“I’ve missed you, too.” The angles of her face softened as she considered her nephew. She inhaled. “Funny, I left the palace because I didn’t want to live life strung up like a puppet, and now that I’m back I lament not visiting more. I’ve missed too many years with my favorite nephew—”
“Last I recall, Aunt, I am your only nephew.”
The duchess crossed her arms and gave him a stern look. “Much as I am fond of you, Charles, this tardiness is rather unbecoming of the future king.” She raised her hand before he could explain. “I’ve heard from palace gossip that you’re in a lovelorn state. Lovesickness is no excuse for discourtesy, do you understand?”
“Yes, Aunt Genevieve. I’m sorry. Truly. It’s just that . . . I feel lost. Like I’ve met the one person who’s meant for me, and she’s vanished.”
At his confession, she softened further, her features melting into a smile that rounded out her cheeks and reminded him faintly of his father.
“What’s so special about this girl?” she asked, leaning slightly forward, her eyes taking on a mischievous sparkle. “Inquiring minds wish to know—tell me about her, Charles. You could have the hand of any lady in the kingdom, any lady in the world, even. Why are you so set on this one? Rather rude of her to take off so suddenly!”
Charles hesitated, surprised by how relieved he was by his aunt’s questioning. He hadn’t talked about her to anyone—not about his feelings, anyway. Maybe this was what he needed to help sort out his thoughts. To get out of the haze that had clouded his mind ever since the ball.
“Any other girl would only want to marry me to become a princess,” he replied finally. “She . . . she didn’t even know I was the prince.”
At that, Genevieve wrinkled her nose. “Plenty of ladies pretend to be ignorant, Charles. It’s a coy game that they play—”
“Not her,” Charles insisted. “Not her.” He tugged at one of the buttons sewn onto the tufted cushion against his back. “There was something so sincere about her, so kind. I didn’t even get her name. I’m beginning to worry that she was nothing more than a dream.”
“Dreams don’t leave behind glass slippers,” said Genevieve sensibly. “For that matter, who would think to wear glass shoes, let alone to a ball?”
“I told you,” said the prince, “she’s different.”
His aunt sighed. “You are hopeless, Charles. I see there’s no talking you out of this, so let’s talk about something else. I take it your studies went well.”
“Well enough,” he replied absentmindedly. “I did find it refreshing to study philosophy, history, and diplomacy instead of protocol or dancing.”
While his aunt chattered on about how her husband, Arthur, had been a lecturer once at the Royal University, Charles gazed out the window. On his way home a week ago, he’d marveled at how little his hometown had changed. The oak trees, the wide pastures skirting the countryside, the rows of brick houses and the estates inhabited by the minor nobles, the winding road to the palace. Yet how different they seemed.
He couldn’t place his finger on it, but he saw more now. He noticed the people as well as the land. Surely, what he had learned during his university courses had trained his mind to be that of a learned and knowledgeable king, but there was more to ruling than that.
The prince signaled for the carriage to slow down.
“What is it?” asked his aunt, startled by the apparent change in plan.
Charles opened the door, escorting his aunt into the town. It was still early, and no one paid him a second glance, but Genevieve was starting to get a few stares. They couldn’t stay out long. “I spent almost my entire childhood behind the palace walls. Going to the university was the first time I got to see the rest of the world.”
“What did you see?”
As they turned the corner, wending down a curved path, Charles spoke softly. “Poverty. Our people, starving. Orphans and beggars without anywhere to go.” The prince reached into his trouser pockets and took out a gold coin. “I see it in the capital now, too. I’d never noticed before.”
He placed the gold coin by a sleeping mother and child, wishing he’d thought to bring food as well. But it would have to do. It was only a start. Once he gained his father’s confidence, he would do more. Much more.