A Royal Kiss and Tell

My dearest beloveds, I hope this letter finds you well and in good health. Papa, have you taken the willow-bark tea, and did it help the pain in your fingers? The queen swears it has reversed her own pain and sends her best wishes for you.

My husband and I have been at Tannymeade long enough that it is beginning to feel a bit like home. I have a dog now, a very big one. His head comes just under my hand, and there he keeps it most of the day. I’ve named him Bru, which in Alucian means loyal. It is quite beautiful here, but I will confess the ocean smells terribly briny in the afternoons and I have asked for the windows to be shut against the stench. It leaves us feeling too warm, but my prince has assured me that when the season turns to autumn, the smell will dissipate. Speaking of my husband, we’ve been trying diligently for an heir, and with God’s blessing, we might report happy news very soon.

News has reached us of Prince Leopold’s bad behavior, and the duke frets over him most days. He shall see his brother soon enough, I expect, as he said the king has sent word he is to return to Alucia at once.

The Alucians are very fond of their eel and dine on it at least twice a week. I can scarcely tolerate it, and one night, I grew so green when I saw it that my husband demanded they bring onion soup straightaway. The master of the kitchens has been terribly apologetic, and has attempted to serve that foul beast in different dishes, but alas, it does no good. I can’t tolerate it. I assured the poor man that I will delight in anything he prepares, save that wretched eel.

Eliza continued on about Tannymeade, and a clock she’d found in one of the staterooms that was not working properly, and how everyone around her had twittered with unease when she insisted she would like to fix it. She reported that the clock now resided in her dressing room, and she was spending her spare time in the repair of it. There was more, but for once Caroline did not hang on Eliza’s every word. The words relaying the message that they knew of Leopold’s “bad behavior” and the king had sent for him danced before her eyes.

When Caroline finally took her leave, she grew steadily despondent in the carriage ride home. She wasn’t ready for him to leave, in spite of all the questions about him. What a strange, perplexing feeling it was to have doubts and questions about a person and still desire them. But when she thought of his leaving, the doubts gave way to complete despair. How would her life be then? What would amuse her? And how could she ever hope to look at another gentleman and feel the same sort of excitement and anticipation she did when he was near?

Caroline was such a fool. She’d known since Eliza’s wedding that it would lead nowhere, and after his treatment of her in Helenamar, she hadn’t even liked him very much. But oh, how she’d kept at it until she did like him. Until she loved him. And she did love him, she could feel it deep in her bones.

The truth was that she’d be desperately wounded when he left and she’d be forced to marry a stranger and pretend to esteem him and wish every waking day that that stranger was Leopold.

It was the most dreadful fate she could imagine.