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Crown's Wrong Kiss nineteen
The palace gardens sprawled like a tapestry of verdant hues beneath the spring sun, alive with the gentle sway of flowers and the distant murmur of courtiers promenading along graveled paths. Isabelle stood with her sketchbook clutched against her chest, trying to appear composed as Sebastian paced before her, his tall frame casting a shadow that seemed to follow her wherever she moved.“A picnic,” Sebastian declared, hands clasped behind his back, “is the perfect setting for furthering my acquaintance with Miss Everhart. Intimate yet proper. I require your guidance, Miss Ellwood.”Isabelle swallowed the bitter taste in her mouth. “Of course, Your Highness.”She had become an architect of her own suffering, designing each interaction between the prince and her friend with painful precision. Yet she could not deny him anything—not his requests for assistance, not the flutter of her heartbeat when his gaze met hers, not the silent agony of watching him pursu
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The sudden shift in his demeanor caught Isabelle off guard. “Of course.”“When I was sixteen,” he began, “I was desperately in love with Lady Margaret Beaufort. She was nineteen, beautiful beyond words, and utterly indifferent to my existence.” A self-deprecating smile curved his lips. “I wrote her poetry so terrible it would make your ears bleed. I sent her flowers, gifts, notes—all returned unopened. Finally, I cornered her at a garden party and declared myself, certain that my persistence would be rewarded.”Isabelle leaned forward despite herself, captivated by this glimpse into his past. “And was it?”Sebastian laughed, a short, rueful sound. “She looked me directly in the eye and said, ‘Your Highness, I would sooner marry my father’s stable boy than bind myself to a man whose only accomplishment is his birth.’”Isabelle gasped softly. “How cruel!”“But accurate,” Sebastian countered. “I was arrogant, entitled, convinced that my title alone made me worthy of her affection.” He sh
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The palace library had become their sanctuary. Isabelle found herself there again, seated at the mahogany table across from Sebastian, her fingers tracing idle patterns on a sheet of parchment as she contemplated his latest request.“A locket for Amelia?” she repeated, keeping her voice steady despite the small fissure forming in her heart. “Yes, I think that would be quite perfect.”Sebastian’s face brightened with that boyish enthusiasm that made her chest ache. “You believe so? I thought perhaps it might be too forward.”“Not at all.” Isabelle reached for a fresh sheet and began to sketch. “Something delicate, I think. Gold, with perhaps a rose engraved upon it.” Her pencil moved with practiced ease, creating the outline of an oval pendant.“A rose,” Sebastian mused, his voice warm with approval. “Amelia mentioned once that roses were her favorite.”Of course , Isabelle thought bitterly. I was the one who told him that, three meetings ago. But she merely nodded, adding details to h
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“I’m glad to be of service.” The words tasted bitter.“Would you… would you help me craft this into something worthy of her? I know it’s an imposition—”“Not at all,” Isabelle said, too quickly. “Though I should—” She stopped, searching for an excuse.The library door swung open abruptly, and Priscilla swept in, her golden curls bouncing with each step. “Isabelle! Mother is positively seething. You refused the gown she selected and now you’re wandering the palace corridors in something so—” She stopped short, finally noticing Sebastian standing by the window.“Your Highness!” Priscilla dropped into a deep curtsy, her cheeks flaming. “I didn’t realize—forgive my intrusion.”Isabelle closed her eyes briefly. Of course. Her mother had sent Priscilla to drag her back for another lecture on propriety and appearances.“No intrusion, Lady Priscilla,” Sebastian said smoothly, though his brow had furrowed. “Your sister has been kind enough to assist me with a matter of correspondence.”Priscil
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“Forgive me,” she said, smoothing her skirts. “I’ve disrupted our pleasant outing with my clumsiness.”“Nonsense,” Sebastian replied. “A garden tour without at least one unexpected encounter with nature would be terribly dull.”The remainder of the afternoon passed without further incident, though Isabelle remained acutely aware of every step she took. When they eventually returned to the palace, the sun was beginning to lower in the western sky, casting long shadows across the manicured lawns.“Thank you for the delightful tour, Your Highness,” Amelia said with a perfect curtsy as they reached the entrance.“The pleasure was mine,” Sebastian replied. “Perhaps next time, you might bring your water colors? There are several views I think would benefit from your artistic interpretation.”Amelia brightened visibly. “I should like that very much.”Sebastian turned to Isabelle. “And you, Miss Ellwood? Will you join us again?”The proper answer was to decline, to remove herself from a situa
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Amelia squeezed her fingers. “You’re too kind, Isabelle. Though I suspect His Highness would benefit from someone of your intelligence and wit as a companion. Heaven knows I haven’t your facility with words or books.”“You have a gentle heart and natural grace,” Isabelle countered. “Far more valuable qualities in a royal consort than an excessive fondness for dusty tomes and impractical dreams.”The conversation shifted to safer topics, but Isabelle’s mind remained fixed on the impending garden tour. An afternoon watching Sebastian court Amelia while she played the supportive friend—surely there were gentler forms of torture.The palace gardens were resplendent in the afternoon sun, the recent rain having refreshed the blooms and greenery to vibrant life. Isabelle walked slightly behind Sebastian and Amelia, watching as he pointed out various plants, his knowledge impressive for one not primarily concerned with horticulture.Amelia looked enchanting in a pale pink walking dress, her g
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