“For as long as I can remember, it’s been my dream to buy that farmhouse and live there,” she admitted, hoping he’d squeeze her hand and tell her it was all going to be okay. That they’d find a way to make this work.
Instead, he shook his head and looked away from her. “I’ll look into it, Clem, but I can’t promise anything. Business is business, and this deal is pretty much done.” When he finally faced her again, his expression was closed off. “I’m sorry, Clem. I have to do what I think is best for the kingdom,” he said evenly. “Not everything is up for negotiation.”
Clem shot darts at him from her eyes. “But my dreams are up for negotiation, right? They’re a bargaining chip you’re not afraid to use in your quest for daddy’s approval.”
She watched him wince but no longer cared that she was being hurtful. He wasn’t the man she’d taken him for. He didn’t care about her dreams. How could he? He just didn’t see the world through the same lens she did. As she’d told herself from the start, they were too different.
And now he was ripping the land of her dreams from under her feet.
“I’m begging you, Edward,” she said. “Don’t tear down my future.”
With that, she turned and walked from his office, not wanting him to see the tears welling up in her eyes.
12
Clem worked from room to room in the west wing of the castle, checking to make sure everything was up to par, putting finishing touches on paint jobs and stain work, her own specialty. She examined the flooring installation in the guest bath and found a hairline crack in the tile she’d chosen. She made a mental note to call the installer and get him back out here by tomorrow at the latest.
The grand gala to show off the restoration of Kawell Castle was tonight. In a few hours, guests would begin to arrive, eager to inspect the castle and all of her work. She was less than excited and in no mood to celebrate.
The job was nearly done, and although Clem was proud of her work here, her interaction with Edward a few days before had put a major damper on her mood. She’d been avoiding him at all costs, not wanting to talk to him about the farm and be forced to hear the news she was dreading. If she could just finish the job and move on with her life, away from Edward and all she’d done here, she’d survive.
Her phone whistled, and she glanced at the screen. It was a text from her realtor.
We lost the property. You were outbid by a substantial amount.
Clem sighed and shoved her phone back into her pocket. When she’d bid on the farmhouse, she’d done it on a wing and a prayer. Even with the money from this project, she knew she couldn’t spend nearly as much as the royal family. Her only hope had been that Edward would see reason and choose to protect her heart instead of his own standing with his father.
Clearly, he hadn’t chosen her.
She pulled her phone back out and sent a reply to her realtor.
Thanks for your help.
Seconds later a response appeared.
The Ashtons bought the property.
She couldn’t even text back. What could she say to that? Her childhood hopes were about to be demolished. Her dream home was the future property of a condo development.
“Fuck.” She kicked the baseboard in the bathroom, leaving a black smudge on the wood.
Not only had she lost her most precious aspiration, but she’d lost the man she’d thought she was falling for. For a while there, Clem really believed they could end up together, despite their differences. Now she knew that she’d been completely off base.
Without a thought for the marred baseboard, she left the guest bathroom. She moved through the castle, numb, heading toward her quarters. In her closet hung the lavish gown Edward had purchased for her to wear to the gala. It was a startling emerald-green silk, hand-beaded at the bust line and at the empire waist. He’d told her he’d chosen it to contrast her golden hair and show off the glint in her eyes. When she’d tried it on for him, he’d sat back and marveled at her. Then he’d peeled the dress off and ravished her right there in the walk-in closet.
The memory of his kisses stung.
He’d told her the dress was made for her, that she looked stunning in it and he couldn’t wait to see the faces of her admirers at the gala, that she was more spectacular than any castle they’d come to see.
Now she would never wear that dress.
Clem reached into the back of the closet for her suitcase. As tears leaked from her eyes and slid down her cheeks, she packed up her things.
Dressed in the baggy jeans and sweater she’d arrived in, her hair hanging in a braid down her back, she stepped quietly down the corridor of her quarters. She tiptoed down the grand staircase, trying not to take note of the restored materials she’d chosen for each step, the gleaming white swirled with black that was perfect for the foyer. With a furtive glance, she scanned the area for Edward. He was the last person she wanted to run into.
A voice made her nearly jump out of her shoes.
“Need a ride, Miss Wicke?” Lance, Edward’s wry driver, stood in the doorway to his office, his hands in his pocket, his driver’s cap tilted sideways on his head.
“Yes, please, Lance,” she whispered. Her hands went to her cheeks to check they weren’t wet with tears. She didn’t want Lance to see her crying. “I’d like to go to the shop, Wicke Salvage.”
“No problem, ma’am.”
She followed Lance outside to the governor’s drive where the car was parked and took one last look at the stone gate she’d worked hard to restore to its former grandeur.
Goodbye, lovely castle.
Goodbye, once-lovely Prince.
As they drove away from Kawell Castle, Clem reminded herself to breathe.
But every time she did, she started to cry.
Edward stood back to marvel at the crowd of people in the newly restored ballroom. Groups of men and women, decked out in tuxedos and floor-length gowns, dotted the room. Others were meandering around the grounds and through the rooms, inspecting the restoration job. A man with wire-rimmed glasses and a top hat approached him, a silver-haired woman on his arm.
“Prince Edward,” the man said, beaming at Edward. “I must admit I was less than confident in your ability to salvage Kawell Castle.” He held a hand out for Edward to shake, and Edward took it.
“I’m Jonathan Stokes, president of the Sovalon Historical Society. While we’ve spoken on the phone, I believe this is our first meeting in person.” He gestured to the woman beside him. “And this is my wife, Claudia.”
Edward at once recognized the voice of the man who’d berated him on the phone several times during the process of working on the castle.
“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Stokes,” Edward lied.
“What you’ve done here is no less than amazing, your majesty,” the old man said. He raised a glass of champagne to toast Edward, and his wife followed suit. “Cheers to you, Prince Edward. Job well done.”
“Why, thank you, Mr. Stokes. I’m so glad you’re pleased.” Edward nodded to the couple. “Please excuse me. I need to see to someone about the catering.”
“Everything is delicious,” Claudia said, smiling.