Fated Eclipse: The Illegitimate Princess And Her Alpha Suitors

Chapter 304: A Most Unconventional Invitation

Lyria’s POV

”That was the best you could come up with?” Debbie asked, half folded over in laughter.

Bridget looked entirely unrepentant.

”It was the first thought that came to mind,” she replied. ”He irks me so greatly that I wish I could strike him on the head, if only once.”

”Oh, I shall accompany you when you do,” Margery said immediately. ”I am well aware he is a Marquess, but Goddess help me, the man is so terribly proud of it. And then there are those with titles higher than his and considerably more wealth, yet they do not conduct themselves in the same manner.”

”That is precisely my point,” Pippa agreed. ”Duke Thorncrest is one of the wealthiest men in the kingdom, yet he would far rather smile than insist someone bow simply because he happened to pass them in a corridor.”

”Or Duke Aurelgrave,” Elara added, shaking her head. ”He is not only wealthy but connected to Her Majesty by blood, which places him amongst the highest ranks within the palace. And still, he would rather look upon one kindly than with disdain.”

”Or Duke Valenridge,” Debbie added. ”He says exactly what is upon his mind, yet he does not paint his title across his forehead and demand that everyone address him as Duke every few moments.”

She rolled her eyes with feeling.

”We are all perfectly aware of their titles. We understand we are expected to show them respect. But does Marquess Hale truly need to remind everyone that he is a Marquess numerous times each day simply to ensure it has not been forgotten?”

”Have you not heard, Debbie dear?” Bridget asked, with great solemnity. ”Repeating is believing. Continual demanding is respecting.”

Elara blinked.

”I believe the saying is seeing is believing.”

”Yes,” Bridget replied with a shrug, ”but that would not suit what I was attempting to convey. And so I altered it accordingly.”

I laughed again despite myself.

I truly could not help it.

The maids were being terribly improper.

They were also, unfortunately, not entirely wrong.

Marquess Hale really was as pompous as they claimed.

The last time he had called, Bridget had answered the door. I had witnessed the entire exchange from within my chambers, and it had become immediately apparent that he was displeased by her lack of deference.

Bridget, however, appeared to have been born entirely without the instinct of self-preservation.

Or perhaps with rather too much of it.

She had refused to waver.

I laughed again and the others joined in.

For a brief moment, the room felt full of warmth. As though we were not inside a palace where a single wrong word could ruin a life. As though I were not a princess whose very existence was considered an inconvenience. As though we were simply women speaking freely amongst ourselves on a rainy morning.

The sound of rain against the windows grew louder, and I turned my attention back toward the glass.

To my dismay, the weather had only worsened.

Sheets of rain poured from the sky, obscuring the gardens below entirely.

It truly was a shame.

I had been looking forward to spending time with Earl Hawthorne. It had been a while since we last spoke privately, after all. He was quite easy to converse with.

There was also the not insignificant matter of my curiosity regarding how exactly he had come to play a string instrument as though it were a percussion one.

Just then, a knock sounded at the door.

”I shall answer it,” Pippa announced, and rushed toward the entrance before anyone else could volunteer.

The moment the door closed behind her, Elara turned to the others.

”So,” she began, ”is the date with the Earl to be cancelled?”

She gestured toward the window.

”I am aware it was intended for the gardens, but given the rain...”

”I imagine it will be much as it was with Duke Thorncrest,” Margery replied. ”They shall simply move it indoors.”

”And yet we have received no correspondence,” Debbie observed. ”Surely by now we ought to have had word regarding where precisely it would be held.”

I nodded.

That was a fair point.

Though perhaps Earl Hawthorne had simply been delayed.

Or perhaps —

The door burst open and Pippa hurried back into the room, clutching a letter.

Her expression was triumphant.

”It is from the Earl, Your Highness,” she announced.

My heart lifted, unexpectedly.

I crossed from the window and accepted the letter from her.

I unfolded it taking note once more of his handwriting, which was, as always, rather beautiful for a man who claimed to be poor at most things requiring delicacy.

Your Highness,

I hope this letter finds you well. It has been quite some time since we last spoke, and I find myself missing your company.

I write regarding the date we had arranged for today. It was to have taken place in the gardens, which, given the present weather, is plainly not going to be possible.

I had initially considered proposing we simply move matters indoors — a chamber, perhaps, with something to eat and drink. But then I thought to myself: why must a date be confined indoors? A date ought to be enjoyable. At least, that is what my sisters have always maintained, and I have found, over the years, that they are generally correct in these matters.

I must also confess that I am rather poor at holding conversations of the drawing room variety, and I suspect I would eat you quite out of house and home if we were to sit indoors with only snacks between us — a habit I have been indulging in rather too freely of late.

And so I had a thought. You may recall that I mentioned teaching you to defend yourself. How would you feel about making that the occasion for today?

There is an indoor training ground within the palace, used by very few. Largely by those of my standing.

I can teach you what I know, Your Highness, and I give you my word it will not be dull. If the idea appeals to you, I shall be waiting. If it does not, send word and I will make my way to wherever a more conventional arrangement might be set. Either way, I do sincerely hope we shall both enjoy it — you especially.

Yours,

Earl Hawthorne