Henry knew it was foolish to try and sneak back out to see Lady Tremaine’s driver again, but he found he couldn’t help himself. Cocktail hour was for mingling, with everyone milling about while a string quartet played in the background. It was usually the point in the evening where he, Rory, and now Cordray, too, would sneak out and play poker in the kitchen while Carlotta made them root beer floats, like she’d done when he, Rory and Adam were children.
Henry thanked his lucky stars that Rory seemed to want to introduce as many people as possible to Cord, integrating him into her world, so they wouldn’t be so very afraid of him. The prince slipped away to the kitchen, grabbed a carton of strawberries, a banana and a tin of yogurt, and shoved it all in a bag. He wondered if he should bring her more, or if he was already looking a little desperate.
If he was being honest with himself, he was feeling a longing for something real. He didn’t know if he would find it waiting out in his driveway, but something inside begged him to try.
He walked through the twilight towards the oldest car in the long line, running his free hand through his hair before he rapped his knuckles on the cracked window, startling her.
She grabbed a fistful of her shirt over her heart, her eyes bouncing toward the ceiling before shooting him a look of mild scolding. “You scared me!”
“Yeah? Well, you intrigued me. It’s your own fault I’m back out here when I could be in there, eating my way through a croquembouche.”
Her lips pursed before they broke out into a smile. She rolled her window down halfway, her big blue eyes soaking him in. “You are ridiculous. And you’re going to get me into trouble.”
“What trouble? Are you supposed to stay inside the car all evening? Were those your specific instructions?”
“I’m supposed to stay out of sight.”
Henry leaned his forearm on the window, his expression growing serious. “Okay, level with me. Are you a spy?”
She paused, and then laughed airily through her nose. She unlocked the doors and motioned for him to come around to the other side. “Get in. Then I’m not breaking the rules.”
Henry kept his head down as he walked to the passenger’s side and slipped in. “For you. The prettiest Henry I’ve ever seen. Except for the one who greets me with a kiss in the mirror every morning. He’s ravishing.”
“Indeed. What is it?” She opened the bag and gasped. “For me?” The sun was setting, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. He could see her tender expression as she looked over the contents with gratitude that surpassed her pride. “Thank you, Prince Henry.”
He cut the flat of his hand in the air between them. “Just Henry. If you get to pick your name, then I get to choose mine. It’s only fair.”
“You didn’t have to do this. I’m really fine.”
“I ate most of the strawberries earlier. You looked like you could use a few more.”
She took out the yogurt and peeled back the lid, smelling the contents with pure happiness before she dug in. “You didn’t have to leave your fancy party to come out here and bring me food. That’s real sweet of you.”
“It was getting a little claustrophobic in there.”
“With all of your adoring fans?” Her eyebrows bobbed a few times as she ate.
“Ha, ha. No. Your boss is making things real uncomfortable, talking down to Cordray in the middle of dinner, as if he needs to be put on a leash or something.”
“Ah. That makes sense. She’s trying to impress the Baron, taking on his causes and putting a megaphone to them.”
“I’m sure she’s succeeding. But trust me, the Baron’s the only one who’s impressed.”
She shrugged. “Then she got what she wants. Hopefully she’ll be pleased.”
Henry shifted in the old, yet immaculately clean grey interior. “How long has she been seeing him?”
“A few months. She’s been trying to move her way up the social ladder. He was on her list.”
“List?”
“Of eligible bachelors she could date to up her status.” She spoke without emotion, as if they were talking about the weather. Then she smirked and pointed at Henry with her spoon. “You were on that list for a while. So was your father.”
Henry shuddered. “Tell me you’re joking.” Though, upon second thought, he recalled Lady Tremaine trying to draw his eye with her breasts, as if that was all it took for him to follow a woman around.
She shook her head, her gaze focusing back on her yogurt. “It’s best when she gets what she wants. If she desires the Baron, then I hope it works out, I guess. People should get what they want every now and then, right?”
“And what is it you want?” he asked quietly, with a slight playfulness to his voice.
She stared out the windshield without speaking for several beats, and for a moment, Henry wondered if she hadn’t heard him. When she finally answered, her voice wasn’t much louder than a whisper. “Nothing I can have.”
Henry turned in his seat. “You mean to tell me a cup of yogurt and some fruit didn’t solve all your problems? Huh. Goods not as advertised.”
She broke out of her slight melancholy to share a smirk with the prince. “I’m perfectly content. I’ve got a roof over my head, work enough to keep my hands busy, and now I even get to share a picnic with my new friend. This is wonderful, by the way.”
“I had to get out of there. Bringing you food was selfish on my part. Seeing your smile? Almost as lovely as the Baron’s grin.”
She laughed at Henry’s imitation of the Baron’s thin-lipped grimace that passed for his smile, deepening the dimples he loved to stare at. “Wow, that was spot on. I mean, if only your nose was running, you would match him perfectly.” She scooped another dollop of yogurt. “I’m sorry you weren’t enjoying your evening.”
Henry tilted his head as he observed her. “You really mean that, don’t you.”
She nodded, and tucked a stray blonde curl behind her ear. “Of course. Who would wish a bad night on you? You seem pleasant enough.”
“That’s what they put under my title: Prince Henry – Pleasant Enough.” They shared an airy giggle, and Henry realized how very easy it was to be himself around her. She was unassuming and unabashedly sweet. “Honestly, it was a little tense. The Baron is always trying to push his agenda at these things, which is a bad idea all the way around. These dinners are for officials to have a night away from politics, so we can all learn to get along as people, rather than operating only as representations of our policies.”
“I think that’s a wise idea for a party. So many times we get caught up in the things that divide us. It’s nice to see you’re part of something that’s bent on uniting, even when that seems like an uphill battle.”
“The parties are my father’s brainchild.” Henry tucked the compliment away, savoring the notion that she admired something his father had done. “He’s very good at what he does.”
“I’m sorry the Baron was being difficult. I guess some people can’t turn it off. He must feel very strongly about locking up the Lethals.”
Henry stiffened. “Is that your take on things, as well?”
She scolded him with a smile and a slight shake of her finger. “Now, I thought these parties weren’t for politics.” Then she leaned back in her seat and mulled over his question. “I think you can’t choose the Pulse nature grants you. That’s no reason to lock anyone up, as far as I’m concerned. Everyone has to learn to be responsible with their gifts. Lethals are no different.” She ate another bite of yogurt. “If they do kill someone, however, then yes, they need to be locked up and rehabilitated.”
“And what’s your Pulse?”
“Private,” she replied without missing a beat.
Henry frowned. “Same as your name? Is that private, as well?”
“I already told you, my name is Henry. It’s probably why we get along so well.”
“Hmm.” Henry was beginning to feel the pangs of irritation. “Is there a reason you’re being so secretive?”
“If there was, I’m not sure I’d come out and tell you.” She sighed, staring out the window at the bumper ahead of hers. “Working for Lady Tremaine is… difficult. Nothing I can’t handle, of course, but the last guy who came to the house looking to talk to me got me in a heap of trouble.”
“And you think I’ll come to your home and cause trouble? Do you live on her property?”
She nodded. “She’s got two daughters around my age. They’re not so different from their mother. They want to marry well, so any eyes that are diverted from them toward me tend to make my life more difficult.”
“So, if I invited you to the next one of these dinners, you probably wouldn’t be able to come.” Henry’s tone was glum as he scratched his cheek.
She turned to gape at him, bereft of any sort of reply. Henry watched too many emotions flash across her lovely features as she processed the offer. For a moment, his hopes raised when she leaned toward him, but then she drew back with the knee-jerk hesitance.
“I probably wouldn’t.” Then she did something so precious, Henry’s whole body became endeared to her. She reached across the console and linked her little finger around his. It wasn’t quite hand-holding, but something that was just theirs. “But I would want to,” she admitted, holding his gaze with a hint of longing for options such as the ones he presented. “I would want to very much.”
Henry stared at their joined fingers, a wistfulness clutching his heart, making him wish for simpler times. “Do you ever feel like life’s grown far too complicated?”
Her brows bunched together. “Aside from me not being able to go to your party, what’s got you down?”
Henry’s normal reaction to questions that invited him to open up was to shut tight and keep it all inside, lest his private thoughts leak to the press. But there was something about her that he instinctively trusted. He’d had that same inkling towards Belle—the woman he’d hired on the spot to be Adam’s housekeeper and in-home nurse. It hadn’t been long, but so far, there hadn’t been any huge implosions Adam had reported, other than her egregious need to shine his shoes, apparently.
Henry studied her short fingernails, and stretched his thumb to trace along her wrist. “You can keep what we talk about between us?”
“You sincerely overestimate the amount of friends I have. Of course, Henry. What’s overcomplicated in your life these days?”
Henry’s mouth went dry, but he powered through. “The whole issue of Lethals wasn’t a huge deal to me when we were drafting up policies, but now that one of my closest friends is married to one… I’m not sure.”
She let his words hang and crackle around them for several beats before she pulled a few out of the air to examine more closely. “What aren’t you sure about?”
“All of it. I don’t know. I mean, I still stand by the spirit of the policy. We’re not willing to divert more funds into developing the pill to grant Lethals their normal magic while muting their deadly abilities. It’s a good idea, but not one that the government can justify paying for when there are other more harrowing things that need our attention and funds. Giving them a life where they don’t have to be fearful of harming their loved ones is all we should be expected to provide the public. Anything beyond that is whipped cream—nice, but not crucial. Taxes should be spent on what’s crucial, not what’s comfortable.”
She mulled over his words, running her tongue across her teeth as if she was tasting each syllable to see how it settled. “I think that’s a fantastic policy. The one problem is that ‘crucial’ might be subjective to some people. Being cut off from all magic might seem like a Level 10 problem, while to others, it might seem to be a luxury. It may be that your criterion is good and noble, but hasn’t been clearly quantified to the public. Perhaps spelling it out in terms of life and death, using that scale, might help people see your side more clearly.”
It was Henry’s turn to taste and test her words, turning them over to see how they fit with his current plans and worldview. “You’re right. I haven’t been clear enough.”
She offered him a compassionate expression, her eyes softening around the edges. “The good thing about that is it’s a fixable problem.”
“This is nice.” Henry took a chance and brought her hand to his chest, cradling it over his heart. “You’ll tell me all the holes in my politics, but you won’t tell me your name?”
“You don’t need my name. You’re doing well enough on your own without me.”
Henry plucked a pen from his pocket and took her napkin from the bag. “You may think I don’t need your name, but I know for sure that you need my number. I’m guessing you won’t give me yours?”
She stared at the napkin he handed her with his digits scrawled across in neat, blue script. “You’re giving me your phone number?”
“I guess I am. The thing is, it’s only useful if you use it.”
She finally took the napkin and folded it twice, sticking it in her pocket. “Thank you.”
“Still no name?” He tilted his head at her, his mouth drawing to the side in mild frustration.
She clung to her secret, while Henry clung to her hand in the quiet of their private moment.