Against All Odds

Chapter Forty-One

"Your French is getting very good," Patrick states, politely, entering the room. I smile, standing. My tutor, Professor Dillon, bows.

"Thank you, Professor."

I walk from the room with Patrick, grimacing at the shooting pain in my feet. "Is there anyway I could wear flats, Patrick? My feet are so swollen."

"If you could manage them for the Queen's speech at the university, that would be paramount. Then I promise I will have ice and slippers on standby in the car."

I smile, nodding. "You've got a deal then."

"I wanted to talk to you about something personal, that the Queen bid me to speak to you about."

My smile is replaced by a frown. After being here almost a month, I've come to realize bidding from the Queen is never a good thing. "What is that?"

"You must take bed rest, ma'am," he murmurs, very cautiously. "It is... vital you have a healthy baby. And everyday, you tire yourself more and more."

"I am not going to sit in a bed all day, Patrick. Every woman in the world works until they give birth. I don't want to be any different."

"But you are different. You are carrying one of the most prized possessions of the crown. You are carrying a possible heir. Having a healthy child is the greatest role you have right now."

We exit the doors, towards the car. I turn to him, breathing in.

"Can't we just tone down the schedule? I'd rather be running around than sitting around idly waiting for the days to pass."

"I will speak to her of having someone else take over some duties of yours."

I smile. "Thank you... I just want to be useful. To England... to Henry."

He nods. "I understand, ma'am."

"Can you please just call me Mia?"

He shakes his head, smiling. "It is not proper."

At that, I chuckle, getting into the car.

...

"You know I haven't seen you in over five days," I murmur as Henry gets dressed by the window. I run the comb through my hair, staring into the mirror.

"I know, but I was away for most of that time, speaking to Jacques."

I nod, setting down the brush. Yes, in France... I try not to resent him for it. I struggle to remain calm.

"Is... is this how it's going to be?" I whisper, looking at him through the mirror. He turns, looking at me, something lacking in his expression.

"Mia, I'm sorry. I had to take the trip. I know... we have been seeing less of each other-"

"Less of each other," I mutter, scoffing. I stand up, grunting softly at the pain in my back. "Henry, honestly, what is it about England that transforms you into something that you're not?"

"And what is that?" he asks, turned to me. He's in a suit, looking perfect and dashing... but there's a coldness I see in him. One that wasn't there before.

"The man that puts his duties before love."

He breathes in, sounding frustrated. He's frustrated. "Well, we will take a trip-"

"I don't want a trip," I snap, eyes wide. He stares at me, surprised by my outburst. "I've been in this godforsaken place for over a month now. I have just been commanded to enter bed rest, which I hadn't gotten to tell you yet. The command came after I fell faint yesterday and blacked out in the car leaving the church."

He gapes, eyes wide. "Why didn't anyone tell me of this?"

"Because I knew you were needed in France to seal the deal on the Torres charity agreement."

"I would have left! You should have told me!"

"Patrick and Richard advised me against it. Here, your duties are more important than anything else, right?"

"Fuck that guy!" he shouts. "Suddenly Patrick is making life decisions regarding this family?"

"I am with him all the time, Henry. That is his job."

He shakes his head, looking down. "Mia, do you honestly think I like any of this either? That I like seeing you unhappy? But I will not lie to you... being here has given me a sense of purpose that France could never do for me! People are warming to the idea of us, England is being repaired now that we are working together again."

I stare at him, blankly, feeling like deepdown he knows that's all bullshit. "And as your wife, I should be happy for you and let you do your duties without complications... that is what you told me the definition of your bride would have to be, is it not? To let you make the decisions, let you run the country while I sit back, voiceless."

He stares back at me, furiously. "You are definitely not voiceless, Mia. Never have been."

"That used to be something that drew you to me."

"Yes, it was," he mutters, turning. I suck in a breath at the insult, turning. I hear the door open, but it doesn't close. Through the mirror, I see his motionless body holding onto the door.

"I'm... sorry," he whispers, contritely. "I did not mean that."

"What did you mean then?" I breathe, wiping my silent tears.

"Only that it would be a lot easier if I could forget what this is doing to you... to us."

I hear the door close then, quietly.