The Lord and his Lady (Forbidden #2)

Chapter Thirteen

"It's about a princess arranged to marry a prince who she's had feelings for since she was a child. But when he comes back from a visit to a foreign country, he has brought home another woman, introducing her as his wife."

Lord Caldwell seated himself on the settee and urged for her to sit opposite him, on one of the wooden chairs. "So far this sounds innocent enough."

"I have not yet gotten to the part with the gore."

"Then I shall shut up until you do."

Settling into the chair, she closed her eyes trying to remember the earnest way in which Luciana had detailed this sad, romantic fairytale.

"The princess didn't know but she was cursed to never leave the castle. Whoever married her would die. The prince knew of this. He saw this an opportunity to live his own life and love on his own terms. But the princess was jealous. One night, she snuck into the prince's bed chamber and spooned out his eyes and cut his wife into pieces."

Lord Caldwell had now leaned forward, elbows on his knees and hands in a steeple under his chin. "Spooned his eyeballs?" he exclaimed. "How does one even do such a thing?"

Belinha thought about this. "I suppose she had her ways."

"Is that it?"

"Her guard knew of her husband's infidelity and was secretly in love with her. When the murders came to light, he sacrificed himself for her and was confined in jail for the rest of his days. The guilt was so heavy, she killed herself and penned a letter confessing of her crimes to her parents."

Lord Caldwell looked like he had been forced to swallow a lemon slice. "That does not sound very romantic."

"It isn't," she agreed before sheepishly saying, "I despise tragedy in stories but this is the only one that came to mind when you questioned me."

"And is that the end?"

"I do not remember the rest, sadly." It was true. There were so many stories that Luciana had told her that some of them blended into one or merged with another. Some the endings she knew of, others she didn't know; maybe because she was so young.

"Here I thought you would mention limbs being torn, tongues being sliced off or something else dastardly." He leaned back, spreading his legs a little. "This my stomach can handle a little more."

"You can handle the spooning of eyeballs and bodies cut into pieces?"

"Can't we all? Except if I were to die by my eyes being spooned then I'd rather jump off a bridge. What a dishonour to my name."

Belinha chuckled under her breath. "I would go into more detail but seeing as you're afraid..."

He grinned cheekily. "No one has ever thought of sparing my feelings in the face of fictional death."

"My lord, you say you read books but when you are struck with boredom. You do not find pleasure in it?"

His lips pressed together as he tilted his head backward. "That is a story in and of itself." He didn't further explain himself and Belinha didn't ask. "For me, it is an activity for leisure not pleasure. Eliza, on the contrary, would refute that."

"She likes books?"

"Likes? Good Lord, the woman is a trifle obsessed with them! The only love I have is toward animals, not for inanimate objects."

"May you...be able to share a story of how you both met, my lord?" she asked. She didn't know why she wanted to know. Maybe it was because the expression on his face when he spoke about his fiancee—love? compassion? adoration?—were emotions she had never experienced nor felt in her life. It was new. It was refreshing.

He seemed startled that those words had left her lips. Clearing his throat, he straightened up in his seat and crossed his feet at the ankles, one over the other.

"Only if you promise not to cast judgment."

"You have my word, my lord."

"Eliza and I have known each other since we were children. I was rather boisterous in school and she was quiet. When we were old enough to understand emotions in more depth, we could not help but seek one another, not out of friendship but of something more. It was written in our fates that we were to wed and alas, that is what it has come to."

Belinha hung on to every word that left his lips. They were so moving. So...beautiful. It was love in its purest nature but not in fiction, in the real world, with people that breathed the same air as her yet lived completely different lives.

This man, and his fiancee, were living the fairytales that she always wanted to be the heroine of. The ones that did not end up in bloody murder, of course.

"And you, Miss Price? Surely someone as beautiful and timid as yourself cannot be without a perfect match?"

A perfect match. She wondered what that would be in regards to her. Did she have one? Did God have her perfect match set out somewhere, waiting for her to come find him?

She opened her mouth, about to detail all—her worries, her fears about her past and how it could stop her in the future. Then she fastened her gaze on Lord Caldwell who sat with his head tilted, waiting patiently for her to share her own story. His dark pantaloons stretched across his thighs, breeches polished and rid of any dirt. His cravat was tied so perfectly, no creases could be found.

And that was when it clicked in her head.

This man was nobility. A man of high ranking in this social system. The moment she shared the truth—that she was really a slave in Portugal, he would have her shipped back.

She couldn't share her story.

"I do not have one," she said, "though I have always believed in it. For now, I am content with my life as it is."

"Well said, Miss Price." He stood up and fixed his cuff links. "As enlightening as this talk of sappy romance and murderous princesses have been, I must take my leave."

Belinha followed and curtseyed. "Thank you, my lord, for sharing."

He stopped to look at her. "Don't be daft, Miss Price. This was a delightful conversation between two confidants. You saved me from the claws of boredom."

He then inclined his head and strode across the room, and out the large, vertical doors that touched the ceiling almost.

She was left alone in the library, mulling over his words. Perfect match. She wasn't lying when she told him she had always believed in it. But for so long, that had never been a thought of importance to cross her mind. It had always been about survival. About making sure she lived to see another day God created.

Belinha wasn't free yet. Would she ever be? And if she did, would she meet that perfect match then?

There was one answer she had. She was lying when she said she was content with her life as it was.

In fact, she was not content at all.