Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 94782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
I study the princes while other women push their way through, determined to get to the line they’ve decided on. But the longer I examine the men myself, the less sure I am. They’re all sitting down, and at this angle, it’s difficult to discern their height. Six of them have dark hair, a couple of which I eliminate straight away based on the shade alone. But the rest is uncertain.
“That’s him.” A woman in front of me hisses to her friend. “I think that’s Prince Aston. I’ve seen him wear those shoes before.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” She nods enthusiastically.
“You better be right.”
For lack of a better plan, I follow them into the line they believe to be Prince Aston’s. There are still a handful of women in front of me, which means I won’t see the prince for a while. I use every minute of that time to tweak and rehearse the speech I’ve prepared. And before I know it, I’m only one person away from meeting the man himself. But when I notice the woman in front of me, I don’t recognize her. At some point, the other two women disappeared. They were certain this was Prince Aston’s line, but now I can’t see them anywhere. I’m starting to second-guess myself when the line facilitator gestures me forward.
“Your turn, madam.”
“What? Oh...” I stumble forward—not gracefully, I might add—and force my legs to move in the direction of the prince. But now I’m questioning everything. Is this really him?
He stands to greet me, his frame towering over me like a skyscraper. When he doesn’t bother to extend his hand as I’ve seen some of the other princes do, I try to remember royal etiquette. In the process, I wind up doing the most awkward curtsy of all time while I struggle to find my voice.
“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Your Royal Highness.”
I swear I could almost see him grimace, and he doesn’t reply in kind, but instead, simply nods. I find it odd, and as we sit down opposite each other, I’m not sure if I should just blurt out why I’m really here or wait for him to speak first.
As it turns out, the latter doesn’t seem to be an option. Judging by his tense posture and the raw disinterest radiating off him, I’m convinced he couldn’t care less about any of this.
It irks me, but at the same time, I’m flushing under his intense regard. The eyes peering down at me through the mask are a sharp, steely gray, and suddenly, I can’t seem to recall the color of Prince Aston’s eyes.
Aware that the clock is ticking, and we still haven’t spoken, I cross my legs and force myself to get on with what I came here to do.
“Your Royal Highness, I must confess that I came here this evening with an ulterior motive.”
He cocks his head to the side, narrowing his eyes at me. Or is that my imagination? It’s difficult to tell from beneath the shadow of the mask. He’s so much more intimidating than I thought he would be.
“As honored as I am to meet you, our time together is limited, so I’m afraid I must get straight to the point. You see, I’ve written to your royal secretary several times with the hope that my letter would be passed on to you. But it seems as though it has not, or perhaps, it has, but you did not take care to consider it carefully.”
Beneath the mask, I notice his eyebrows rising. He seems surprised by my candor, but it can’t be helped. Prince Aston might be royalty, but he’s no better than the rest of us if he cannot find it in his heart to do something charitable for those who desperately need it.
“There is an animal sanctuary in Kent, Your Highness…”
He doesn’t show any signs of life. I can’t even be sure he’s blinking, and I don’t know what to make of this man. But my frustration is snowballing, and desperation colors my voice as I make my declaration.
“The sanctuary is on the verge of going under, and it is the duty of the people, of all British people, to care for those who cannot help themselves. And these animals cannot help the fact that they have been neglected or abandoned. So I came here tonight to ask if you could find it in your heart to help this organization. Securing your patronage could mean the difference between life and death for thousands of animals. Will you consider helping us?”
Silence.
That is his only response after I poured my heart out. After all the planning, and the risk, and the help from Charlotte it took to get me here. The heat radiating up my neck burns as the prince continues to study me, apathetic to my request or the plight of the sanctuary. I’m on the verge of tears, hopelessness threatening to swallow me whole, but more importantly, I’m angry.