Chapter Four

The Importance of Dressage

The next evening, Lorena waved goodbye as Callum’s limo drove off, taking him to dinner with the duke of Lochenleil at Dìnnear a ’Phrionnsa. The security detail followed in a nondescript van. The setting sun streaked the sky pink and orange, the light glittering on the water streaming from the mermaid fountain. As the iron gates closed behind the caravan, she double-checked her planner. Nothing on the books for tonight. Tomorrow morning, she’d meet with Callum to discuss the date, but tonight she was free.

Free to finally unpack her clothes.

She headed inside, back to her suite, where all her personal belongings were still folded inside suitcases. After turning on some classical music, she took stock of the three dressers and two closets in the bedroom. Plenty of space for her clothes to be sorted first by type, then by color, the way she organized her wardrobe at home.

She hummed along with Tchaikovsky as she laid her blazers, slacks, and dresses out on the massive bed before hanging them up. Losing herself in the easy rhythm of organization, she wasn’t sure how much time had passed when her phone rang. Natascha’s name appeared on the screen. Lorena put in her Bluetooth earpiece and swiped to answer the call. “I miss you already.”

“You too, girl. How are things? Everything going okay?”

Lorena hung a little black dress in the second closet. “So far, so good. The prince is a little obsessed with horses, but I found him another horse guy. They’re out for dinner as we speak.” She glanced at the time. Several hours had passed since Callum left.

“Awesome, good job. Here’s hoping all goes well.”

“They seem like a great match. I can’t imagine what he’d have to complain about—”

Someone pounded on the suite door.

Lorena startled. “Um, gimme a sec.” She went out to the door and cracked it open. “Hello?”

Prince Callum stood outside her suite, arms crossed, expression stormy. “A barrel racer?”

Baffled, Lorena opened the door all the way. “What?”

Callum brushed past her, letting himself into the living room.

She spun on her heel to face him. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”

“Are you joking? Dressage is an art. Barrel racing is…” He struggled to find the words for his disgust.

“Is that the prince?” Natascha demanded in Lorena’s ear. “You weren’t kidding!”

If only Lorena could shush her friend without sounding like she was shushing Callum. She tried to ignore the commentary. “Okay, no problem,” she reassured him. “I’ll keep that in mind when I set up the next match.”

Callum shook his head. “I’m tired of this.”

Lorena’s stomach dropped. No. I can’t be fired for a single mistake. “Look, it’s only the first—”

“No, I won’t be put through all these obligations, be forced to jump all these hurdles because I was born first. All I want is to train my horses. That’s it. Being the heir—I never asked for that.”

“What is he saying?” Natascha screeched. “Is he—?!”

Lorena pulled the earpiece out and stuffed it into her pocket. “Callum, I—”

“No, you don’t understand.” He sighed. “You didn’t have to grow up being everything to everyone in an entire country. Nothing is mine. If I keep on this way, nothing ever will be. I have to claim the life I want to live if I ever want to be happy.”

She had to be misunderstanding him. It sounded like he wanted to…

“I’m done.” It came out in a rush of resignation and relief. “I’ll go tell my mother, and she’ll witness my official written notice of abdication in the morning.” And then Callum was gone, leaving the scents of cologne and hay in his aftermath. Lorena stared after him in shock.

Abdicating.

The future king of Ìovoria was abdicating the throne because he wanted to play with horses instead.

Stunned, Lorena pulled her earpiece out of her pocket and placed it over her ear, catching the end of Natascha’s rant.

“—and he wants to give up the throne!”

“What am I supposed to do?” Lorena threw her hands in the air. “This is all basically because I set him up with a barrel racer. I’m out of a job. My career is over. And who the hell has even heard of dressage anyway?”

*

THE ÀVERNESS INQUIRER

CROWN PRINCE CALLUM RENOUNCES THRONE

Prince Callum abdicated the Ìovorian throne this morning. His written abdication was witnessed by Queen Catriona and put into effect by Parliament: “I, Callum Lennox Hamish Duncan Eoghan Wardlow, do hereby renounce the throne for myself and my descendants. I have found it impossible to shoulder the heavy burden of responsibility in this position.” He commented after the abdication about his future plans: “I will retire to the family home in Dunoch and focus on my true calling, dressage.”

“And someone had better explain what the hell dressage has to do with this,” complained Rosamund to Alistair as they pulled to a stop in front of her home. She’d been called back to Ìovoria early. She hiked Iver into the crook of her elbow and stepped out of the limo, her stiletto heel wobbling on the cobblestones. The gray sky threatened rain but hadn’t unleashed its fury yet. Àverness Palace loomed over her, austere and uninviting. Och, I didn’t miss this place.

She sent a quick text to the family group chat.

ROSE: I’m here.

WARDEN: Meet me in the library.

She set Iver down, her fingers curling around the handle of his leash. “No way he really abdicated. Let’s go find out what’s going on.” With a quick thank-you to the driver and the valets unloading her suitcases, she strode toward the palace, Iver at her side. The guards opened the double doors for her with mirroring bows, and she inclined her head in thanks as she passed.

Once inside, Rose let Iver off leash, and he scampered away. She stalked down a hallway full of her ancestors’ portraits and blew through the library doors. Built-in shelves lined the walls, stuffed with a book collection as old as the country itself. Golden chandeliers warmed the room with a dim light. An oil family portrait hung over the iron-grated fireplace as the world’s most expensive fire hazard. Her mother sat proper and upright in an antique armchair with a thick book in her lap and a teacup beside her. Her gaze hardened when she saw Rose.

I need to get out of here as soon as I can. First order of business: figure out the Callum issue. Her brother had always liked horses, bordered on obsession even, but he’d never abdicate over them. “So what’s going on? Callum didn’t actually—”

“He did.” Catriona shut her book and stood, her back rigid.

Rose’s heart went thick in her throat. “Why would he…? No, he didn’t. He wouldn’t. There has to be some mistake.”

“There isn’t. I witnessed his signature myself in this very room.”

But if Callum had abdicated…if the crown prince was no longer the crown prince…that means I… Rose’s chest squeezed. “Oh, fuck,” she whispered.

Her mum pursed her lips. “Crudely put, but I can’t disagree.”

Rose curled her fingers into her palms, wishing she had Iver to hold. Her pulse thudded in her neck. “But I was never supposed to run Ìovoria. It’s always been him.” Her voice rose. “What am I supposed to do? I can’t rule a country. I can barely—”

“Panicking is undignified.” Catriona shot her a hard look to silence her. “As is your entire lifestyle, so we’ll be doing away with both as of right now.”

My lifestyle? Rose sputtered. “I don’t know what you mean. People love me.”

Catriona picked up a stack of newspapers from the grand oak desk and thrust them toward Rose.

She took them and glanced through the headlines. All her. Rowdy Rosamund stays out all night at Hamburg bar. Rowdy Rosamund shows up late to own welcome ball. Rowdy Rosamund seduces couple in Brussels. Rowdy Rosamund dances naked in fountain. Rowdy Rosamund this, Rowdy Rosamund that. She hated the stupid nickname that had followed her since she was seventeen, but if it kept her in the news, she had to tolerate it, for Callum’s sake. But now Callum was gone.

“This must stop.” Her mother glowered. “I’ve allowed you too much freedom over the years. I thought you might grow up, but it seems I was mistaken. And now look where we are. I’m forced to leave my life’s work to a wastrel.”

Rose crossed her arms.

“Be glad I don’t call you worse. You are twenty-seven years old. Far too old to be making a fool of yourself and your family like this.”

Making a fool of the family? Rose recoiled. “It’s not like that!”

“It absolutely is like that, and if you can’t see it, I haven’t done my job as your queen and your mother.”

“As my queen?”

“Royalty should be a role model to their people. Your brother learned that well enough; I can’t imagine where I went wrong with you.”

Rose’s scoff went wet in her throat.

Catriona shook her head. “You have exhausted my patience, child, and you have a new world of responsibilities to tend to. This frolicking about, picking lovers like wildflowers—it’s over.” She took the newspapers back and tossed them one by one into the fireplace. The fire devoured them, licking up the saucy headlines until they crumpled and blackened. The end of an era. The end of a life.

Rose struggled to catch her breath. If she wasn’t Rowdy Rosamund, who was she? Crown Princess Rosamund was…someone else entirely, someone she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. Her world spun around her as the fire crackled with the remains of her life. “I’m not ready,” she whispered, and her voice cracked.

Catriona’s gaze hardened. “Well, you’re going to have to become ready. You had all the same training as your brother. It’s your personality that’s the issue.”

“Hey!”

Her mother didn’t flinch. “We need to make you presentable. Convince the people you’re respectable. Or at least decent.” She scoffed. “I’d settle for decent at this point.”

Rose threw her hands in the air. “How am I supposed to do that? A public announcement saying, ‘Oy, I promise that was all a massive joke; I was pulling your leg; I’m actually a carbon copy of my mum, and you have nothing to worry about’?”

Catriona frowned. “I don’t appreciate the sarcasm.”

“And I don’t appreciate being told my entire life is garbage,” Rose snapped.

Her mum glided back to the armchair and trailed her hand along its back. “Despite your attitude, I do have a solution lined up.”

Rose froze, unsure she wanted to hear anything her mother considered a “solution.” But then again, Catriona Wardlow had successfully ruled Ìovoria for the last forty years, so maybe it was worth a shot. Rose sighed. “Okay, what do I have to do?” She left off the sarcasm as a peace offering.

Catriona stared her down. “We’re going to prove you can commit.”

Dread sank in. Where was this going? “And we’re going to do that by…?”

“Callum’s matchmaker is going to find you a partner instead.”

Rose choked.

Catriona waited.

“Absolutely not.” Rose planted her hands on her hips. “I can’t promise my life to someone. I can barely promise a solid week.”

“Well, you’re going to figure it out.” Catriona smoothed her pantsuit. “You’ll have a month.”

“A month?”

“That pitch is unbecoming.” Catriona frowned. “You really need to get your reactions under control if you’re going to be the face of a country.”

“This is under control! I can’t—”

“You can, and you will. For the good of Ìovoria.”

“I always hated when you said that to Callum,” Rose muttered. “It’s not any better aimed at me.”

“The throne is more stable when the ascending monarch is already married. You know that.”

Yes, but that didn’t mean she wanted to do it. “Isn’t there another way? More charity or something?”

“Anything else will be seen as a ploy to gain favor.” Catriona sipped from the cup of tea. “That’s what it is, of course, but it can’t be seen as such. Which is why you’ll find the love of your life and prove you’re no longer…well, you.”

Rose swallowed hard. Exactly zero percent of this sounded appealing, but she was the crown princess. She only had so much choice in her life now, which was to say none. Maybe she could give it a shot, and when the matchmaker couldn’t find anyone worthwhile (because Rose had made her way around town, and there wasn’t anyone worth settling down with), her mum would leave her alone about it all. “You know what? Fine. I’ll give it a month.”

“Thank you.” Catriona set the teacup aside and folded her hands in front of her. “The month starts today. Now, in fact.” She raised her voice. “Graeme?”

The library doors opened, and Graeme entered and bowed. “Your Majesty.”

Catriona stared at him for slightly too long before saying, “Please fetch Ms. García Fernández.”

A young woman hesitantly poked her head into the library. “Um, actually, I’m here, Your Majesty.” An American accent. “I was wondering if I should leave? Since Callum is no longer…” She trailed off with a wince.

“No,” Catriona said. “Come in.”

The woman entered and stood beside Graeme.

Rose stared.

Black hair pulled up in a neat bun revealed a long neck and tawny skin. A crisp violet blouse and high-waisted trousers flattered petite curves. Oversized glasses sat perched on her nose. A binder was tucked under her arm like a security blanket. Very put together, and screaming for someone fun to ruffle her up.

Running a hand through her blonde waves to loosen them, Rose cocked her head. “This is the matchmaker?”

“I’m Lorena.” The woman curtsied, and it was technically correct, but her back was a little too straight, her feet too firmly planted. She needed to be unwound, fast.

Rose flashed a pretty smile. “Rosamund. You can call me Rose.”

Lorena’s full red lips ticked upward, but her eyes said no. “Pleasure to meet you.”

No, the pleasure’s mine.

“Meet your new client,” Catriona told Lorena. “Now that Rosamund is next in line for the throne, we’ll need to reform her tawdry reputation. I want you to find her an appropriate, upstanding partner. Someone who will improve her reputation, not dig the hole deeper.”

“I understand.” Lorena tapped the edge of her binder as if she ached to crack it open.

Rose stared at those pretty, long fingers tipped with nude polish. Short nails. A great sign.

“When can we fit an intake interview into your schedule, Your Highness?”

One-on-one time with this goddess? Yes, please. “Anytime,” Rose purred. They could work on the calling-her-Rose thing later.

This month just got a lot more interesting.