And he realized, his mind spinning, how much she cared for Dash. Cared for him, not as a friend, not as a trusted employee, but as something far more. And by the way Dash looked back at her, comforting her with just a quick look, that feeling might be returned.
Why had Grantham never recognized that before? That bond between them? Why could he see it now? Nothing had changed except…
Except for Ophelia.
He pushed that thought away as Dash nodded. “Of course I will do so. I have a few thoughts on that matter already. And I will help the new staff weed out any others who are more loyal to Blairford than they are the Crown. Shall I start straight away before the rumors of what happened with Blairford spread too widely?”
“Please,” Grantham said.
“Thank you, Dash,” Giabella said, touching the secretary’s hand before he darted from the room. Grantham looked at her a fraction of a moment more, still stunned that he had finally realized this about his mother’s internal life. But that was a subject for another day.
“I think that is the best I can hope anyone can do for me,” he said. “I just wanted you all to hear what had happened from my lips.”
“God’s teeth, Grantham,” Sasha shocked him by snapping as she released Thomas and came to him. “Stop this now—you are going to allow the rest of us to help you.”
Remi nodded. “Well said, Sasha. You’ve locked us out of your problems long enough. We are a family, damn it. And we’re going to help you. Now tell us what you need.”
Grantham bent his head and the words he had held back seemed to press into him, pressure on a dam that could not hold. When he finally began to speak, the relief was massive.
“The…the situation with the rebellion is not getting better,” he said softly. “In fact, that is why I sent Ilaria and Jonah to the southern realm. They’re trying to find a leader for the group who I can meet with.”
Remi’s expression softened and he slung an arm around Grantham’s shoulders. “What else?”
The words continued to spill. All of Grantham’s fears, all of his worries and failings. And they heard them all and slowly began to offer support, assistance. Love. Love that had been discouraged by the previous king, but that he saw now had always been present.
And now he wasn’t alone in trying to solve this problem. He had them. And he had Ophelia. Although she was a temporary balm. He couldn’t come to depend on her too powerfully, because in the end she wouldn’t be here.
They had both made that clear. And he couldn’t forget it.
CHAPTER 14
Ophelia clung to Priscilla’s arm, turning her face toward the warmth of the sun as they strolled through the garden together. It had been a wonderful hour together, and she realized how much she missed this private time with her dearest friend.
“Goodness, whatever shall I do once I’m back in London all alone, without you to walk with?”
Priscilla tightened her grip on Ophelia and shivered. “That is the only thought that intrudes upon my otherwise perfect happiness. You are my dearest friend and I have a hard time imagining a life where I cannot simply run to you to talk about serious things or silly things, happy and sad things.”
“We’ll write,” Ophelia promised her.
“And visit,” Priscilla offered. “You will come here all the time, probably on the royal ship every time Ilaria and Sasha come home. I will insist on it.”
Ophelia smiled at the pretty picture that presented. And yet in her heart, she ached. She and Grantham would end this thing between them when she left Athawick in what felt like such a short time now. Would he want her to return and remind him of his lapse in judgment? When he married, would he wish to have her haunting the corners of his home, right in front of his queen?
Would she be able to bear seeing him with some other woman?
“You are suddenly silent,” Priscilla said softly. “Would you like to talk about it?”
“Talk about what?” Ophelia asked with a shake of her head. “There is nothing to talk about.”
“In the same way there was nothing to talk about when I was sneaking around with Remi?” Priscilla asked gently. When Ophelia couldn’t bring herself to answer, her friend smiled. “You know I am a princess now.”
Ophelia joined her in smiling. “Yes, you far outrank me, Your Highness.” She gave a playful curtsey.
“I do. And so I demand that you share what is going on with you. You and Grantham.”
Ophelia stopped walking. She all but stopped breathing at that order. She pivoted to face Priscilla, opening and shutting her mouth as she tried to find an explanation for what her friend had apparently already seen. Priscilla’s expression remained gentle as she did so, kind, because she could be nothing but kind.
“I-I was going to tell you,” Ophelia said at last. “I didn’t know how.”
“Why not?” Priscilla asked, still gentle. “After all, Remi and I were not so different.”
“Oh, but you are,” Ophelia said. “You and Remi love each other, and Grantham and I…don’t.” Why was it so hard to say that? She shook her head. “What we are engaged in is truly an affair and nothing more.”
“That is a very familiar tune you are playing,” Priscilla said with a laugh. “It is the same thing I told myself, after all, when Remi first…touched me. I thought I could hold my heart separate from my body. I promised myself that I would. And here I am, married to him.” There was a dreamy joy to her face, and then her eyes lit up. “Ophelia, we shall be sisters! In truth…well, in marriage, anyway. And you won’t have to leave, so we will be together!”
Ophelia’s head had begun to spin at the utter certainty her friend had about her future. It was one she smashed down any time it reared its silly head. But now Priscilla spun tales and it was hard not to picture being here forever. Being Grantham’s forever.
She blinked those thoughts away. “You are ahead of yourself by leagues, my love,” she insisted. “This is not the same. Grantham and I are entirely different people.”
“As if Remi and I aren’t,” Priscilla said with a laugh. “A wallflower and a rake, how different could you get?”
“But Grantham has responsibilities that no one else in his family does,” Ophelia insisted. “He is not looking for a queen, especially while all this unrest remains around him.” Priscilla opened her mouth to speak, but Ophelia continued without allowing it. “And even if he were, all his siblings have chosen English spouses. Certainly Grantham would need a political alliance with someone from his own country.” She blinked at the truth of that. “Or another ally to build his strength of position.”
“But…but that would only be a political match,” Priscilla said. “A miserable thing. You cannot want that for him.”
Ophelia shrugged and it did nothing to lessen the sting of what she was saying. The truth of it sinking into her every pore and vein, burning like fire. “Sometimes that is the sacrifice one must make for a country,” she whispered. “So yes, Grantham and I are…we are sharing in something wonderful.”
“Oh, Ophelia.” Priscilla took her hand.