The sun was shining, birds were chirping, couples strolled hand in hand, and Francis simply reveled in the gentle breeze brushing against his face.
There was no way he could be in a foul mood with a bit of nature spread out before him.
It wasn’t that the palace lacked sprawling acres of land to wander through, but the feeling was different when he knew that, at some point, walls would rise to block his path and keep him from going further.
It was odd, but the awareness of being confined made him feel as though true freedom was just out of reach.
He always ventured out with two attendants trailing behind him, no matter where he went.
There were rare exceptions when he was granted “privacy,” which only meant being accompanied by his most trusted aide—a term that lost all meaning in such context.
He was never alone, and he had never truly felt free, but he supposed that was just how things were. After all, he was the prince and future king of England, and that came with certain expectations.
One didn’t question such matters, and if one dared to, they’d be reminded of the privilege of living in a palace with hundreds of servants and the financial security so many could only dream of.
“What did I just say?”
With an impassive expression, Francis replied:
“That I must pay attention to the ladies around me.”
“Well, at least you’re listening, even if it doesn’t seem like it.”
Francis gave a sly smile and, without turning his gaze from the path ahead, said:
“I always listen. One can’t simply ignore the queen.”
“A subject might not ignore their queen, but a son ignoring his mother? Well, that happens all too often,” she said, fanning herself lightly. “Anyway, you know what you need to do.”
“Survey the eligible young ladies, pick the best match, and provide plenty of heirs for the crown,” he recited from memory.
“Exactly. I know you’re young, but your father is getting on in years, and you’re our only heir. There’s no time to waste.”
“I know, and I’m grateful you’re giving me some time instead of arranging a marriage for me.”
“I suppose my softer side doesn’t want to see you walk down the aisle with someone you don’t care for,” she said with a teasing tone. “Though I did just that, and it didn’t turn out so badly.”
“Because you love my father.”
“I learned to love him,” she corrected. “I had no choice, and it took about three years before I felt any affection for him.”
“I’m not looking for a wife to love madly, but I do want someone I can at least connect with on some level.”
“That can be worked on.”
“How so?”
“When I married your father, I absolutely despised the outdoors, yet here I am, strolling through the park,” she said with a grimace of distaste. “I often joined him in places that repulsed me.”
“You didn’t have to come with me today,” he said, chuckling at his mother’s discomfort.
“You know I’ll stick to you like a shadow until you tell me who you intend to marry.”
“I don’t feel pressured at all,” he replied sarcastically.
“I hope Edith chooses a husband more quickly than you when her time comes,” she grumbled.
“I’m sure she will.”
“What worries me is that your father might pick one for her if she drags her feet. I know you’ll respect the woman you marry, but I can never be certain that Edith’s husband will treat her with care and respect.”
“My sister has enough spirit to…”
Francis paused and looked at his mother with a puzzled expression. Was someone shouting?
Hearing squawks, cries, and a commotion nearby, he turned around, and before he could react, he felt himself tumbling to the ground.
He didn’t fall alone—a young woman with fiery orange hair, clearly flustered, had knocked him over and landed on top of him.
“Oh my goodness, oh my goodness,” he heard her gasp in horror.
“Guards!” his mother shouted.
Francis raised a hand, signaling them to stand down.
The poor lady was clearly terrified, and he refused to believe she posed any threat.
“Miss?” he called to get her attention. “Are you alright?”
She nodded quickly.
“Odelle!”
Francis tilted his head, trying to see who owned that voice.
Wasn’t that the Duchess of Huntington?
No matter, she had said “Odelle.”
Was that the name of this lovely young woman?
“I’m so sorry,” she said, struggling to get up. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am,” she repeated, her voice trembling.
Francis tried to help her as she disentangled herself, but she was quicker, standing up in a flash and smoothing her skirt. Then she dipped into a hasty, awkward curtsy and said:
“Your Majesty.”
He thought she was addressing his mother, but the queen stood too far away, watching the scene in horror. Judging by the young woman’s expression, she’d made a mistake, and she quickly stammered:
“I—I’m sorry. Your Highness, I meant Your Highness.”
With calm composure, he adjusted his clothing and offered her a reassuring smile.
“Do you need a doctor, Miss Odelle?”
“No, no,” she denied hurriedly. “I’m leaving now, I must get home… Yes, right away.”
Francis knew the flush on her face was from the embarrassment of the moment, but he had never seen a more beautiful creature. No one blushed quite as charmingly as this young lady.
“Would you like me to escort you home? I insist a doctor should take a look at you.”
He doubted she had more than a minor scrape, but he was grasping for any excuse to keep talking to her.
“Thank you, but no,” she declined as she began to step away.
“But—” Francis fell silent as he watched her break into a run.
Lady Huntington offered a curtsy, accompanied by another young woman who was pressing her lips together to stifle a laugh. They hurried off after Miss Odelle.
Francis heard the goose honk again and watched it with amusement. Who would have thought a bird would lead him to meet someone who truly caught his interest?
“Francis, let’s go!” his mother called. “That was utterly embarrassing. I thought that madwoman was going to hurt us.”
“Oh, Mother, did you see her? I doubt she could harm a fly.”
“It doesn’t matter. Let’s leave. She knocks you to the ground and then runs off. You shouldn’t associate with people like that,” she said indignantly as she headed toward the carriage.
Francis followed behind his mother, casting a quick glance toward the spot where Odelle had disappeared.
There was no way he wouldn’t see her again. He hadn’t noticed her at any of the balls, but he’d find a way to cross paths with her soon enough.