Prince Roman lounged in his chair, eyes closed, until the sound of Thomas' approaching footsteps made him snap his eyes open.
"Did I disturb you, Prince Roman?" Thomas inquired, having deliberately waited two hours before interrupting the prince. Still reeling from the encounter with the mysterious girl, Thomas's usual composure was slightly off.
Roman sat up straight, his piercing eyes fixed on Thomas. Noticing Thomas's subtle tension, Roman asked, "How is my brother doing?"
Thomas's responded, "Something big has occured," the response from Thomas sparked Roman's curiosity, and his eyes lit up with excitement. A bright smile spread across his face. Without needing further prompting, Thomas revealed, "Prince Edward was publicly slapped by a woman."
Roman's interest was further piqued by the news. The image of his brother being slapped in public was almost too delicious to resist, especially considering it would likely infuriate his elder brother more than the duel he had lost.
Roman stood up from his chair and walked over to the nearby table, where a decanter of water and a glass awaited. He poured himself a glass, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he asked, "Was he slapped hard?"
Thomas replied, "Indeed, my prince. From what I observed, the first prince appeared intoxicated and had been making unwanted advances toward his fiancée."
Roman turned to face Thomas, the glass of water still in his hand. His voice was low and laced with intrigue as he asked, "His fiancée?"
Thomas maintained his composure, nodding in response. "Yes, she publicly ended their engagement." Roman's eyes sparkled with amusement at the news. He couldn't help but wonder who dared to humiliate a prince so publicly. The woman's audacity impressed him.
Noticing Roman's growing curiosity, Thomas ventured, "Would you like to meet her?" The air was heavy with anticipation as Thomas silently hoped Roman would decline.
After a moment's silence, Roman finally responded, "For now, no." Thomas breathed a sigh of relief at his master's decision.
Roman downed the remaining water in his glass, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. Just then, the sound of footsteps echoed outside, followed by a woman's apologetic voice. "I'm so sorry, I seem to have entered the wrong tent."
Thomas turned to see a stunning young woman, adorned in exquisite clothing and jewelry, standing at the entrance.
The young lady had intentionally entered the tent, hoping to encounter the second prince. But nothing could have prepared her for the sight before her. Prince Roman's chiseled features were even more captivating than the rumors she heard. His dirty blonde hair framed his sharp jawline, while his piercing blue eyes seemed to see right through her. His lips, inviting and pink, curved into a subtle smile.
Roman's low, husky voice broke the spell, "The wrong tent, huh?" The woman's cheeks flushed as she returned to reality.
"I never thought I'd be so fortunate as to stumble upon the second prince of Westfield," she said, bowing her head in respect.
Roman said to Thomas, "I think I'll have my meal here." Thomas understood Roman's underlying words, he nodded, and departed, leaving Roman alone with the beautiful lady.
Roman's gaze locked onto the lady, a slow, seductive smile spreading across his face. "Since you're already here, why not join me for a drink?"
The woman's cheeks deepened in color as she accepted the invitation, her eyes never leaving Roman's as she took a seat on the couch.
*******
Cathy's eyes widened in alarm as Emily and Bridget approached the bleachers. Emily's tear-stained face and torn dress sleeve bothered her. "What happened?" Cathy asked urgently, her voice trembling with concern.
Bridget, who had witnessed the entire scene, hesitated, unsure of how to break the news. Emily dabbed at her face with a handkerchief, avoiding eye contact.
Cathy's impatience grew. "Emily, what's going on? Your dress is ripped!"
Emily sidestepped the question, her voice detached. "You two should head home. I'll stop by the tailor's to get my dress repaired, then I'll go to Aunt Camille's."
As Emily turned to leave, Cathy grasped her shoulder, her eyes brimming with worry. "Tell me what's wrong, Emily. You're scaring me."
Emily's sigh was laced with despair. She offered her sister a weak smile. "Just tell Mom I'll be staying at Aunt Camille's tonight." With that, she gently shook off Cathy's grip and walked away, leaving her sister and Bridget exchanging concerned glances.
Emily had no intention of sharing the details with her sister, knowing that Bridget would likely fill her in or the village gossip would spread the news quickly. In a small village like theirs, rumors traveled fast, and by tomorrow, everyone would be talking about it. Emily was relieved the incident hadn't occurred in the heart of Westfield, where the grand castle was located.
As she walked to the tailor's shop, passersby gave her curious glances, her disheveled appearance a stark contrast to the composed beauty expected of ladies. Despite her current state, Emily's natural beauty shone through. Her fiery red hair cascaded down her back, framing her heart-shaped face. Her bright green eyes sparkled, and her soft, pink lips added a touch of warmth to her delicate features.
Emily's journey to the tailor's shop took longer than usual, as she had chosen the less frequented path. As she pushed open the wooden door, the owner, Mr. Sawyer, warm smile faltered, his eyes widening in surprise at her disheveled appearance.
"Emily, dear, what's happened to you?" Mr. Sawyer asked, his voice tinged with alarm.
Emily smiled wryly. "I look that bad, huh?"
"I know my dear Emily doesn't get into fights." Mr Sawyer replied, concern etched on his face. He disappeared into the back of the shop and returned with a wet handkerchief and a cup of water, which Emily gratefully accepted.
After gulping down the whole content of the cup and dabbing her face with the handkerchief, Emily revealed, "I've broken off my engagement." Mr. Sawyer's surprise turned to pleasure at the news.
"Did the prince do this to you?" He asked, his voice low.
Emily forestalled further inquiry, explaining, "I'll tell you everything later, but first, I need to mend my dress. Your customers might not appreciate my unkempt appearance if they walk in."
Just then, the door swung open, and a young boy, about Emily's age, rushed in. "Emily, what happened to you!" The young boy who was Mr sawyer's apprentice exclaimed, alarm written across his face.
"Is there a gown I can borrow while mine is being repaired?" Emily asked Mr. Sawyer, politely ignoring the young apprentice's inquiry.
Mr. Sawyer nodded and disappeared into the back of the shop, leaving Emily alone with the boy, Luke.
"You're quite the actor," Emily whispered to Luke. "I know you witnessed the duel today. You must have heard what happened."
Luke hurried to Emily's side, his voice barely audible. "Why did you slap the prince?"
Emily's eyes flashed with anger. "I wasn't thinking. I was furious, and I just reacted."
Luke looked stunned. "You slapped the prince? You could have pushed him, but slapping him?"
Before Luke could continue, Mr. Sawyer's voice interrupted from the back of the shop. "Emily, you slapped the prince?"
Emily shot Luke a meaningful glance before turning to Mr. Sawyer with a bright, innocent smile. However, Mr. Sawyer's serious expression indicated he wanted a full explanation.
Emily had forgotten that Mr. Sawyer possessed an uncanny talent for catching snippets of conversation, even from a distance.
Emily took a seat on a stool, hesitantly recounting the event excluding the conversation she had with the prince. Mr. Sawyer listened intently, his expression growing increasingly grim.
When Emily finished, Mr. Sawyer declared, "The prince deserves more than a slap. He needs a good beating."
"I won't be able to return home today," Emily said, worry etched on her face. "I'll stay at Aunt Camille's for the night and head back tomorrow morning." She let out a deep sigh, the weight of what had transpired with Prince Edward still lingering.
Luke's voice dropped to a whisper as he spoke, his words laced with disdain. "I had no idea Prince Edward was such a scoundrel." Mr. Sawyer's eyes widened in alarm, and he smacked his head, Luke clutched his head,groaning loudly in pains.
"Walls have ears, boy!" he cautioned, his voice stern. "Speaking ill of royalty can cost you your head. You'd do well to remember that."
Meanwhile, Emily had taken the simple green gown that Mr. Sawyer had left on the table earlier. She retreated behind the wooden divider, the soft rustle of fabric was the only sound as she changed out of her torn dress.
The new gown was a welcome replacement, it was a simple green gown adorned with delicate lace trim with a slender ribbon clinched at her waist.
As she handed her ruined dress to Mr. Sawyer, he complained, "You're always training during your visits. You should learn to sew. A lady should know how to mend her own clothes." Emily smiled mischievously, her eyes sparkling with amusement.
"I'll stick to sword lessons, thank you," she replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Mr. Sawyer's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing, merely shaking his head in exasperation.
Aunt Camille had introduced Emily to Mr. Sawyer when she was twelve, and he had promised to teach her the art of sword fighting. Though he rarely had time or a sword to spare, Emily continued to visit, studying books on fencing and sword fighting.and practicing with a wooden sword at her aunt's house.
Her aunt, too, was versed in the art of sword fighting and would often practice with Emily, offering words of encouragement and advice.
Swords, however, were scarce and expensive, a luxury few could afford. Emily had been saving up to buy her own sword, but her mother had discovered her stash last year and spent it on new clothes for her eighteenth birthday, when marriage prospects would start arriving. Emily had been furious.
She didn't speak to her mother for days, her anger and hurt simmering just below the surface. But as time passed, Emily's anger had given way to determination. She began saving again, working twice as hard as before, her goal clear in her mind. By her nineteenth birthday, she would have saved enough coins to buy her own sword, one that would be hers alone.
"Didn't you find the duel fascinating?" Luke asked, his eyes sparkling with excitement as he joined Emily.
Emily's responded dryly, "It was." Luke nudged her, seeking a more enthusiastic reply. Emily shot him a warning glance, but Luke persisted, his curiosity getting the better of him.
"Mr. Sawyer had high hopes for the second prince, even without meeting him. I think the prince prolonged the fight for his own amusement." Emily's expression turned thoughtful, her eyes narrowing slightly as she considered Luke's words.
"He did seem to be toying with his opponent," she said finally. Mr. Sawyer, who had been quietly mending Emily's dress in the corner, looked up with a hint of a smile.
"You observed the second prince closely," he said, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
Emily nodded, her brow furrowed in concentration. "Mmm," she hummed. "I noticed he had a few opportunities to strike, but he didn't. He defeated his brother with a single, decisive strike."
Mr. Sawyer stood, stretching his back with a soft groan. Emily teased, "Your back is the only thing that reminds me that you're getting old."
Mr. Sawyer chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. Despite his advancing years, he looked remarkably youthful, with only a few strands of gray hair betraying his age. Emily had known Mr. Sawyer for years, and she was still amazed by his vitality. He had been having problems with his back since she first met him, but he never seemed to let it slow him down.
Emily took her dress from him and slipped behind the wooden divider to change. Fortunately, the rip was minor, requiring only a few stitches. Once she'd changed, Emily bid Mr. Sawyer farewell, thanking him for his help before heading to her aunt's house.