How was the opera?” Merrick’s mother asked after dinner as she tapped the keys of the piano in the parlor room.

“Fine,” Merrick replied in a distracted voice. His mind was again on his valet, whom he hadn’t laid eyes on since early that morning as he took a day to himself to visit with his family. And after what they’d shared, he felt nearly hollow without him.

The night of the opera would forever remind Merrick of his night with Cassius. A night he would always treasure. If he had to enter into a marital agreement with someone he could never care for romantically—besides the obvious inequity of depriving the woman of someone to share her affections—he was grateful for the memory. He was still sore, but he loved that every time he shifted in his seat, he was reminded of the one true night he’d shared with the man he’d grown so utterly and completely fond of.

“You know what your mother is asking,” Merrick’s father replied as he sat near him on the settee, thumbing through the daily newspaper. “She’d like to know about your evening with Lady Wellington, and frankly, I’m curious as well.”

“We all are,” Marjorie added in a droll voice from her seat across from him, and he wanted to cast a glare in her direction but held himself back. He would give her an earful later.

“She is a lovely person.” Merrick cringed inwardly, carefully choosing his words. “The opera was…entertaining.” Not that Merrick could remember any of it.

And suddenly, he wondered if Cassius had enjoyed the production, and for that matter, whether he’d ever attended the opera. It had not occurred to him to ask. He had so forgotten himself that night. Did Cassius enjoy the arts? Did he have a fondness for other things besides poetry and horses? He longed to ask him.

“But?” his mother inquired, snapping him out of his thoughts as her fingers paused on the keys.

He sighed. “I did not feel one way or another, Mother. I’m…I’m sorry.”

The room grew silent as his family seemed to study him. His father appeared disappointed, his mother befuddled, and Marjorie just looked sad.

He had not found any of the ladies he’d courted over the years agreeable, but it wasn’t a thing he could help. He wished he could explain, tell them the truth. But he feared disappointing them. Besides, it wasn’t an option for the prince. After all, he was next in line for the royal throne, and it was his sole burden to sustain the monarchy.

The thought dropped like a cold stone in his stomach.

“The staff will think you are utterly impossible to please,” Marjorie suddenly blurted out, as if to help lighten the mood. “According to Isabella, they had taken bets on whether or not you would become bewitched by Lady Penelope’s beauty.”

He narrowed his eyes at his sister. “Is that so?”

His gaze glided over her shoulder to their butler, Harris, who cleared his throat and averted his eyes. In another instant, he reached for the tray with the empty tea kettle near his mother and left the room.

“Finding a match is not always about outer beauty,” Merrick replied. “Unless you are claiming that is all you see in Charles? A handsome face?”

“God, no,” Marjorie exclaimed, her cheeks flushing a rosy color. “Charles is intelligent and worldly and— You’re making fun of me!”

Merrick laughed. “Just hoping to steer the attention away from me.” He motioned toward the piano bench. “There you have it, Mother. Marjorie will have the next royal wedding of your dreams.”

“Don’t jinx me,” Marjorie replied, shooing him with a finger. “He hasn’t even asked!”

Marjorie and Charles had spent a decent amount of time together, and both seemed equally smitten, so a proposal was most likely imminent.

“Yet,” his mother replied. “He hasn’t asked yet.”

When Marjorie looked back at her mother dreamily, Merrick presumed the scrutiny had passed, but then his mother refocused her attention on him. “Well, then…my idea for a masquerade ball next month is perfect,” she exclaimed. “We will invite all eligible debutantes for a lovely evening of dinner and dancing to welcome the winter solstice.”

“No pressure at all,” Merrick muttered, and Marjorie threw him a sympathetic look.

“The royal family hasn’t thrown such a ball in years,” his mother remarked, standing from the piano and heading toward the large picture window. At nighttime, you could just make out the streetlamps in the nearby towns. “We’ll have the kingdom buzzing.”

“You definitely had them buzzing when you made an appearance at the winter event,” his father responded, holding up a section of the Pinewood newspaper. “Says here that the queen had finally attended a nontraditional affair. The reporter suggests that the royal family has not been in touch with its subjects.”

“Is that so?” his mother replied but stopped short of rolling her eyes. The same reporter delighted in pointing out the royal family’s shortcomings. Merrick knew it worried his mother, even though she tried to pretend it did not. It was imperative the royal family did not lose favor with its kingdom, which was another reason why producing new generations of children was important.

“Except for the handsome Prince Merrick, of course, who has a soft spot for those in need,” his father read with some amusement in his voice. “The article mentions that you left the queen’s side to sit with the children from the orphanage. The same children you apparently engaged in a snowball fight with last month.”

Merrick smiled at the memory. “Yes, Cas…Cassius and I watched the sculpting competition at the winter festival and bought the children cotton candy. They seemed to have loads of fun.”

“Cassius?” his father asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Merrick’s new valet, of course,” his mother reminded him with a stern look. “He seems like a fine young man. How is he coming along?” Before Merrick could even respond, she added, “The last letter from Geoffrey, by the way, made it clear he was fully recovered and resting happily in his retirement.”

“Oh, that’s good news,” Merrick replied, feeling like he could barely remember a time when Cassius wasn’t in his orbit, or in his every thought, even though it had only been weeks since Geoffrey became ill and had to leave his post. “Yes, well…Cassius has learned the job very quickly, and I quite enjoy his company.”

“Enjoy his company?” his father repeated with a stunned look. “Merrick, he is a member of the staff and not—”

“Merrick’s new valet is almost the same age as him, so it makes sense that he would see him as a contemporary,” Marjorie blurted out in his defense as Merrick felt his pulse beating against his neck. “It’s rather nice having a normal conversation with the staff you see the most. I feel the same of Isabella, even though she is older than me. Don’t be so old-fashioned, Father.”

“That was not my point,” their father sputtered. “I only meant that it was important to remember their place and not profess too much.”

Too late for that. Merrick had already professed quite a great deal. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, still feeling the effects of his night with Cassius. A well of shame rose up in his throat only to be tempered by a flash of anger.

“What is wrong with seeing our staff as people with real lives and interests? And vice versa, for that matter?” Merrick replied a little too dramatically. “Maybe what the newspaper reports isn’t so far-fetched. In fact, I think we should plan to do more. Maybe allow tours again. Invite the public in so they do not think we’re a bunch of snooty aristocrats stuck inside our lofty castle.”

“Is that really how you feel?” his father asked, shifting his knees toward him, concern etching his face.

When Merrick’s eyes flashed to his mother, she was watching him ever so intently, her gaze wide and assessing, a mix of wariness and wonder on her face.

“Yes, of course I do,” Merrick replied, holding fast to his opinion. Not wanting to tiptoe around his own family, though he was not fond of his father’s anger or judgment. “I wouldn’t have said it otherwise.”

“Then I suppose your legacy is already defining itself,” his father responded with some admiration in his tone. “It makes me proud that you are already considering the kingdom you will rule someday and what might be best for it.”

Merrick certainly wasn’t expecting that response from his father. His mother remained silent, avidly watching their exchange as did Marjorie, a look of subdued awe across her features. Merrick knew she agreed with him, but she knew when to hold her tongue…in most cases.

“You flatter me, Father,” Merrick replied, bowing his head in deference. “Besides, I expect you to rule this kingdom for many more years to come.”

At least Merrick hoped with all his might to delay the inevitable.

* * *

The following morning, Marjorie entered his chamber and threw herself melodramatically onto the wingback chair near the window, attempting to decipher a message she’d received from Charles.

“I informed Charles about the upcoming ball, and do you know what his reply was?” she asked in a high-pitched tone that grated on Merrick’s nerves. “He told me he looked forward to it and that it would be the perfect evening. Do you suppose that means it is the night he intends to ask for my hand in marriage?”

Merrick had been pacing the room the last hour, wondering where his valet was. He could barely concentrate on his sister’s excitement.

Had Cas decided not to return? Did he have regrets about the other night? Maybe he thought it was too risky to continue in his role when he had fucked the prince in his own bed. Merrick shivered at the memory.

“Well, you’re no use,” Marjorie replied, huffing in exasperation. Suddenly she straightened her shoulders. “Maybe Cassius can help. He offered good advice last time.”

Merrick turned suddenly to see his valet standing at his chamber door, his hair mussed from the wind and face flushed from the cold, looking adorably late. “I apologize, Your Highness. I should’ve returned last night, but it was my sister’s birthday, and she asked me to stay.” He stepped inside the room and closed the door behind him. “But this morning the first train had apparently broken down on the tracks, and I had to await the next one.”

Merrick’s heart nearly leaped out of his chest. Cassius had not abandoned him; he was merely late due to unforeseen circumstances.

“I remembered you did not have anything pressing this morning,” Cassius remarked, bowing his head. “I hope you will forgive my tardiness.”

Merrick longed to go to Cassius, to pull him to his chest and pepper kisses all over his face and throat. Instead, he forced himself to remain standing where he was, fists clenched tightly at his sides. “Of course. There is no need to apologize.”

Marjorie looked curiously between them as their gazes clashed and held, drinking each other in. Merrick knew he should look away, but there was not a chance in hell he would.

“What is it you needed help with, Your Highness?” Cassius suddenly asked, as if remembering his place, and looked toward the princess.

“Oh, nothing really.” She waved her hand. “We were only discussing the upcoming ball.”

“Ball?” Cassius asked, and Merrick’s stomach dropped to his feet.

“Our mother is putting together a winter solstice dance and will be inviting eligible ladies,” Marjorie explained, rolling her eyes theatrically. “In the hopes that my finicky brother might find his match.”

Cassius’s eyes snapped to his.

“Wh…when does the ball take place?”

“Next month,” Merrick replied, and Cassius’s shoulders seemed to relax.

A month. There was time. Time for what, he did not know.

Time to become even more besotted with his valet?

Time for his valet to find a new place of employment?

Merrick shook the thought from his head, unable to stomach the idea any longer.

“Would you like to visit the stables with me this morning?” he asked instead.

“Your Highness?” Cassius answered, glancing hesitantly at the princess.

“Um, yes,” Merrick remarked, getting his wits about him. “What I mean to say is, I’d like to take Ursula into the forest. Can you please prepare my riding clothes?”

“As you wish.” Cassius averted his gaze as he strode to the closet. Merrick refused to look in his sister’s direction, afraid the longing in his eyes would give him away.