Heading downstairs, she wondered whether she had dressed up well enough. She was much better dressed than she had been for a long time, but she still felt it fell short of what she wanted to look like for Lord Jones. And that was the standard. She wanted to look as good as she would make herself look for him. She wanted to impress her suitors as much as she had impressed him. She wanted to move on.

She could hear voices coming from the drawing room. Her mother, another woman, and a man.

Walking into the drawing room, she saw her mother talking to a tall, thin, red-headed man, about her age. He looked quite calm, which was unusual in such a young suitor, and he was already smiling warmly, which reassured her. She curtsied and he bowed in return.

The other woman, with bright red hair tied back tightly and a fairly sombre dress, smiled a little and curtsied too. She curtsied back.

“Lucy, this is Lord Percy Sharpe and his mother,” her mother said.

The woman's dark clothes and bare appearance suddenly made sense to Lucy. If this young man was a Lord, then he had inherited his father's title. Which meant his father was deceased and his mother had allowed the title to pass right down to him, rather than fight to retain it. The dark clothes and withdrawn appearance were because they were both in mourning. Lucy wondered whether this was really the right time for him to be courting her, considering his situation.

But she could not make life choices for anyone else. She followed Lord Sharpe to the seat by the window, as their mothers made their way to the other side of the room, where they could see but not hear.

She was not exactly impressed by Percival. There was nothing wrong with him, of course. He was a perfectly charming young man. But she felt nothing at all for him. He was just bland, simple, quiet... and of course he was. After all, he was only just recovering from the loss of his father. Could she really judge him so soon? Perhaps he was a much more lively, outgoing, cheerful person ordinarily. But it didn't feel like it would make any odds if he was.

She knew who she was attracted to, and it was not him. Even making an effort not to actively push him away, she felt no desire to please or impress him. He was just there, the same way the chair, or the grandfather clock, or the painting on the mantelpiece were. He was another part of the scenery. How could he ever replace someone who made the passions in her heart rise like waves on a stormy sea? How could he ever be her perfect man?

No, she would know when she met her perfect man. She would know immediately. And Lord Sharpe was a pleasant young man, but he was not her perfect man. She was wasting both their time by continuing the farce.

Lucy stood up and shook her head, “I am afraid I shall have to retire for now.”

“How come?” he asked. “Is it something I said?”

“You have not said anything at all,” Lucy replied. She could see her mother giving her a cold look from across the room. But what else could she do? Continue to waste this young man's time?

“Is it because I did not say anything?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No. It is not about what you have or have not done. It is about myself.”

“Are you well?” he asked, sounding genuinely concerned for her.

Lucy sighed and shook her head. “Not very well, but I suppose I shall be fine. Just... do not concern yourself about it.”

And she left the room. She knew her mother would be angry. She knew she would be told off heartily and made to feel ashamed for walking out like that. But it was better that way. She sat and braced herself for the impending storm.

Lucy was a little surprised when her mother walked into the bedroom quietly, looking a little concerned. “How are you?” she asked softly.

Lucy shook her head. “I am afraid I am still feeling a little unwell from last night. I could not stay,” she insisted.

“You do not need to lie to me,” Lady Fitzgerald replied. “What is really the matter? Are you having some trouble forgetting someone again?”

Lucy sighed and nodded. “I am.”

Her mother hugged her. “I understand, Lucy. But... you need to seize opportunities as they arise. I am not sure Prince Ferdinand is all that interested in you.”

Prince Ferdinand? Lucy had to contain her shock. How could her mother be so wise and yet so blind at once? Did she really think all of this was because Lucy could not marry a prince? Perhaps a few years ago she would have been this disheartened by Prince Ferdinand's attitude towards her, but now she was just insulted and scared.

Still, it was better than her mother knowing what was actually happening. “I know. It is just difficult to go on when you miss someone,” she said.

Her mother nodded. “I understand. I suppose it is also the doubt, knowing you may yet have a chance, which hurts.”

Lucy nodded back. How could her mother be so right and so wrong at once? Yes, it was the doubt that hurt the most.

“We have received an invitation to dinner with Her Majesty Elisaveta,” Lady Fitzgerald mused. “Perhaps he will be there then.”

“I am not sure I could...” Lucy began, before making eye contact with her mother and stopping mid-sentence.

“You can and you must,” her mother insisted. “If only to find out what he actually thinks of you. It will make you feel better to talk about it, even if he ends up rejecting you.”

Lucy contemplated spending an evening at a dinner party with the Prince again. Making eye contact with him over the table. Talking to him. Seeing him vanish into an empty room with another wide-eyed, hopeful young woman.

She could feel her blood running cold. But what could she tell her mother? She smiled and nodded. “Yes, that sounds like a very good idea. I do not know what I would do without you.”

Lady Fitzgerald beamed. “No need to thank me. Now, I must write back to the Princess immediately and ensure that she knows you will be attending tomorrow. And that you look forward to seeing her brother.” Lady Fitzgerald gave Lucy a knowing smile before sauntering out the room.

Lucy fell back onto her bed with a heavy sigh. Now there was yet another problem. Why couldn't everything be as simple as it had been when she was younger, at boarding school? She could not possibly continue to juggle all these relationships, all these arrangements and engagements, all these people. It would be a blessing to be able to return to a time when she could just talk to her friends and study and pray.

But that life was behind her now. Now she had to look to the future instead. A future where Prince Ferdinand knew she was looking forward to seeing him, apparently. Where she would talk to him and entertain him. Where she would have to live with the shame of knowing what he had tried to do with her, what sort of a woman he thought she was.

Lucy braced herself for the worst.

* * *

The dinner party was as beautifully planned as always. As she walked in, a few hours early so she could greet the Princess, Lucy could see the decorations going up, and could smell the delightful aromas rising from the kitchens. She was pretty confident she had not experienced that sort of understated extravagance before in her life. Other than the Prince and Princess, nobody had the same tastes, the same skills, or the same wealth.

She was taken to the Great Hall, where Her Majesty was overseeing the servants hanging garlands of flowers and ivy, and listening to a chef's aide explain what would be served over dinner.

“Your Majesty, Lucy Fitzgerald, daughter of Baron Fitzgerald, is here,” the footman said.

Princess Elisaveta turned around and Lucy curtsied, bowing her head low. A friend or not, Princess Elisaveta was still royalty, and the sort of royalty whose charisma alone made it worth the effort of bowing down before her. She was everything Lucy had expected a princess to be and more.

“I am so glad you could make it,” Princess Elisaveta said, smiling earnestly and taking Lucy's hand. “We shall have such a wonderful evening.”

Lucy nodded. “I am glad I could make it too, Your Highness, and may I say everything is looking fantastic.”

Princess Elisaveta laughed softly in delight. “I am pleased that you like it. All I wish is for my guests to be happy. Speaking of which... did your mother not mention you wanted to see my brother?”

Lucy found herself blushing and a faint perspiration rose on the back of her neck. “Oh, that is just my mother being... herself, Your Majesty.”

Her Majesty cast Lucy a knowing smile. “Do not be modest, I can see you blush.”

Lucy shook her head, but could not speak before the Princess carried on.

“My brother is somewhere around here,” she said, this time with a slightly frustrated tone. “I shall go and find him. Wait here.”

Lucy wanted to tell her not to bother, to stay. She wanted to say that she only wished to talk to her friend, and did not care at all for rude, licentious Prince Ferdinand. But she did not. She remained frozen and waited as Princess Elisaveta marched off. Even though she was a princess, Lucy could detect in her steps the slight stomp of a girl angry at her brother.

The last thing she wanted was to see Prince Ferdinand, but she could not exactly contradict a princess. If Her Highness wanted to go and find His Majesty so that he and Lucy could talk, then that was what was going to happen. At least Princess Elisaveta would be present to make sure he did not do anything too outrageous.

She heard a voice in the hallway echoing “Elisaveta?” She knew who it was immediately. Only one person would address the Princess like that.

And then she saw him. Prince Ferdinand walked right in through the door where Princess Elisaveta had left from and looked around the room. At first, he looked over her like she was a chair. But then his eyes landed on her. He looked a little startled as he stared at her, like he had just seen a ghost.

Lucy froze on the spot. “Hello, Your Highness,” she said nervously. “I trust that Your Highness is well?”

He nodded. “Yes, yes I am. I trust that you are well too, young lady.”

Lucy nodded. “I am very well, Your Highness,” she replied.

“Even after...” he began, raising an eyebrow. “You can be honest with me. You look completely and utterly petrified.”

Lucy blushed and looked aside. “To be perfectly honest, Your Highness, with Your Highness's permission... I am somewhat afraid of you, yes.”

She glanced up just in time to see Ferdinand smile. He still looked very handsome. Very devilish. “I did not mean you any harm, I simply... I am used to women being a certain way around me.”

She nodded. “And I understand that, Your Highness, I did not intend to make Your Highness believe I was pursuing something which I was not, and for that I apologize.”

Prince Ferdinand's smile vanished and he shook his head energetically. “No, no, no. Do not apologize to me. It was I who insulted your virtue. I should not have been so quick to assume your nature or your intentions. I dare say I have hurt you.”

“Not at all, Your Highness,” Lucy reassured him. “I was a bit startled, nothing more.”

“No, no, you are a woman of taste, and class, and I understand that. But I insulted you and I must rectify it.” He was pacing up and down a little, but for some reason he did not appear nervous. He simply exuded sheer energy. It was somewhat terrifying. “Give me a little time, and I shall think of something to compensate you the suffering I have brought upon you...”

Lucy wanted to tell him again not to worry, but, as with his sister, she was not exactly sure how to refuse a Prince. Was there any proper way of telling a member of royalty that he was wrong? That he was doing too much?

“I have it,” he finally said, “I know just what to do. A friend of mine is the Earl of Clanricarde, in Ireland. He is visiting for this party, and looking for a wife. I believe you would be a wonderful fit for him. So I shall introduce you.”

“Oh, Your Highness does not need to go so far!” Lucy replied.

“What is the matter? Are you already engaged to be married? Do you have a serious suitor?” Prince Ferdinand asked.

Lucy shook her head. “No, your Majesty, but I... I am not sure I would be suitable for an Earl.”

“You will. You are a stunning beauty, and my sister says you are a strong young woman with a good heart. You are very much worthy,” Prince Ferdinand insisted.

She shuffled her feet, not at all sure what to make of what was happening.

“You will love him, trust me. And he is much more of the gentle, loving variety,” His Highness explained. “Not so much like I am,” he explained. “If you understand what I mean by that.”

Lucy nodded and smiled. She understood. Although he was a friend of Prince Ferdinand's, the Earl of Clanricarde was not a lustful man who would spend the hours after dinner locked in a room with an unmarried young woman. Rather, he was a respectable man, who was most likely waiting for the perfect woman to be his wife.

Lucy was not sure she was ready for this. But how could she turn it down? An Earl on a silver platter? This was exactly the sort of opportunity her mother talked to her about. She may not be the right woman to tame down Prince Ferdinand and make him into a husband, but she was absolutely prepared to marry a good man who was already contemplating marriage. And she was dressed beautifully, ready to impress anyone suitable.

She nodded. “Very well, Your Highness, I will accept Your Highness's most gracious offer, and I shall meet with the Earl of Clanricarde, so that he may decide whether I would make a suitable wife for him. Thank you very much.”

Prince Ferdinand looked overjoyed by her decision. “Not at all,” he replied. “Thank you for allowing me to compensate my atrocious behaviour when we last met.”

And with that, he swiftly made his way out of the room, with a slight skip in his step, apparently ecstatic that he had been allowed to put the world to rights.

Just as he left, he passed Princess Elisaveta in the doorway.

“Brother!” she exclaimed. “I have been looking for you everywhere.” Her eyes landed on Lucy.

Lucy shook her head and smiled.

Understandingly, Princess Elisaveta smiled back and nodded. “You are not even dressed for dinner,” she scolded her brother as he left the room.