Hand-Me-Down Princess (2 page)

Something about the differences in what the two of them would be expected to pledge to each other struck Malachi, but he had no time to turn it over in his head.

“Who gives Jessabelle Keller to the prince?”

The gentleman next to Malachi took a deep breath and spoke, though without the volume of the bishop. “On behalf of her late mother and the adoring nation, as her father, I do.” He turned to give his daughter a hug and Malachi saw part of her for the first time. Her hands clasped her father’s shoulders, the excessively large diamond ring twinkling at him under the lights.

“I will be fine, Papa,” he heard her whisper.

And then her hand had been placed in his.

Malachi’s fingers curled around hers without being told. Together, they took three steps forward until they reached the base of the stairs. He started to go on, but she didn’t move.

With skill borne of years of practice, he kept a furrow from appearing on his brow. Her other hand, the one holding a bouquet of white calla lilies, seemed to be trying to grasp her skirt, and he understood the problem. He switched her right hand from his left into his right and rested his left hand on her lower back for support.

“One step at a time, slowly,” he whispered. “You’ll make it.”

His fingers might not. They could fall off from lack of circulation given how tightly she grasped them, but after another moment they stood at the top of the stairs.

The bishop glared at their hands until Malachi switched back. What difference did it make which hand he held? Who knew? He did know every moment of the royal wedding was steeped in traditions, some dating back to the brothers who split the kingdom into three separate nations not long after the time of Charlemagne.

The bishop had begun speaking again. There was no “dearly beloved” or speech about the sanctity of marriage, or how the marriage of a man and woman showed a picture of Christ’s love for His bride, the church. Malachi had been to enough “regular” weddings to know things were different.

In mere seconds, Miss Keller was reciting her vows, pledging herself to him before he would be required to do the same. There was no chance of a royal pledging himself to someone only to have the bride not reciprocate. Apparently, it had happened somewhere in their history.

“I pledge my loyalty to His Royal Highness, Prince Malachi, and to the crown of Mevendia,” she repeated, though Malachi had to strain to hear. A microphone hidden somewhere picked up the sound for the rest of those gathered. “I pledge my fidelity, all of who I am, to His Royal Highness alone. I swear to my Maker, I will obey Prince Malachi in all matters in which he gives instructions. I endow upon the prince all my worldly possessions.” Like his family needed the worldly possessions of anyone else. “I give all I have to the prince. My purity. My honor. Even my life. Upon punishment of death should I break my word, I willingly make this vow. Until the time of my death, I belong to none but the prince.”

The bishop turned to Malachi. Instead of looking his bride in the eyes and pledging to love, honor, and cherish as most men did, Malachi stared at the tassel on the bishop’s forehead.

“I, His Royal Highness Prince Malachi Jedidiah Richard Louis of Mevendia...” Why was his name so long and pretentious? “...do swear before God and these witnesses that I have chosen as my bride Miss Jessabelle Keller.” Or she’d been chosen for him. But whatever. “Until the time of her death or betrayal, I pledge to her the covering of my name and my country.” How much more unromantic could these vows be? And chauvinistic? He couldn’t believe his mother had gone along with this all those years ago. “Upon my honor as a member of the Van Rensselaer family, rulers of Mevendia, I will protect her with all that I am.”

Malachi’s mind whirred at the speed of sound. Why hadn’t he looked at the vows more carefully? Not that he wanted to marry this woman, but the one-sidedness struck him. He would have to reassure her in private that he had no intention of being anything but loyal. His vows were worded as they were because the princes and kings of old had often taken several wives or concubines and wouldn’t dream of pledging their fidelity to one woman.

Once William became king, Malachi would convince him to change the law.

On auto-pilot, he slipped the wedding band given him by the bishop onto her finger, repeating something inane about a symbol of his protection. She slid a band onto his finger, once again promising her fidelity unto death.

And then it was time.

The bishop led them to a kneeling bench further back on the stage. Malachi’s bride knelt as he stood at her side. The bishop bellowed a few more things about how lucky she was her stars had aligned or some such nonsense.

“As her husband, Prince Malachi shall remove the covering of her father.”

Right. Take off her veil. He’d been told it would be simple, but his hands fumbled with the clasp attaching the veil to her head. Wasn’t it just supposed to slide out? But when he removed the clip, her hair fell forward, leaving the veil in place. Then it began to slip and realized his error. Removing the comb attached to the veil from her hair was simple.

The bishop moved to the side allowing Malachi to stand before his bride. A circle of intricate silver leaves embedded with jewels rested on a pillow being held by the bishop. He took it and held it high, praying he could remember his line. It had sounded corny before and nearly humiliating for this woman now. “I, Prince Malachi of Mevendia,” Hopefully it was still valid if he didn’t use the whole moniker. “With this crown declare this woman is no longer Miss Jessabelle Keller, but Her Royal Highness, Jessabelle, Princess of Mevendia and my wife.” He set the delicate crown on her head and prayed it would stay in place, at least long enough for them to disappear into another anteroom for the signing of the documents. At least one member of the staff would be there to help secure it, or so he’d been told.

As he tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and led her to the doorway, Malachi realized he had yet to see the face of his bride.

Chapter 2

Jessabelle followed Prince Malachi’s lead into the room behind the stage. Her hair hung even more disheveled than usual after he removed the clip holding it back instead of the comb holding her veil. Someone grabbed her new husband’s arm and attention as soon as the door closed behind them. Someone else led her to a chair and sat her down doing something to her hair, pulling it back up in another clip. The crown he’d placed there was secured somehow.

In making her plans for wedding attire, Jessabelle had forgotten about the crowning portion of the ceremony. Or perhaps she’d never known. She’d never seen a royal Mevendian wedding, never paid much attention, despite her father’s connection to King Antonio. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, she remembered the weddings of her new husband’s uncles, but she hadn’t watched them. In her meeting with some of the palace officials, they’d gone over what would happen and gave her an outline to read over, including the script.

She hadn’t looked at it.

Maybe she should have.

Then she could have protested the fact that she was promising everything to the prince while he offered very little in return. Did that bother him? That, technically, according to his vows, he could cheat on her to his heart’s content?

“You need to sign right here.” An official set an official parchment in front of her. On the other side, her new husband had already scrawled his impossibly long name.

She looked up at the official. “Do I sign with Keller?”

“You will use your full name and add Van Rensselaer, Princess of Mevendia to the end.”

Jessabelle took great care adding the unfamiliar end to her name. The king would add his seal at the end of the ceremony, making it officially official. Another woman fussed over her hair and face. Again.

All too soon, the time came for her to slide her hand into Prince Malachi’s elbow. He still spoke with the man on his other side. The doors opened, and they emerged to sounds of applause. The bishop took the parchment from Prince Malachi’s hand, holding it triumphantly in the air. At least they no longer required proof of consummation and her innocence, Jessabelle thought wryly. She did her best to fix a happy smile on her face as the king took his place on the stage, affixing his seal to the parchment.

The king stood to the side as Prince Malachi led her forward. The bishop bellowed again. If he didn’t chill, he’d have a heart attack soon. “Your Majesty, members of the royal family, honored guests, people of Mevendia, I give you for the first time, Prince Malachi Jedidiah Richard Louis Van Rensselaer of Mevendia and his bride, Princess Jessabelle Grace!”

The assembled masses stood and applauded, loudly, but there were no whoops and hollers. The prince took two steps then turned to help her down the stairs. Jessabelle took each one carefully, still not having looked directly at her husband. It took every effort to plaster on a smile, but Jessabelle did so to the best of her ability. The aisle stretched into eternity, but it passed more quickly than she expected.

The horse-drawn carriage waited for them outside the cathedral. Prince Malachi stopped just shy of it and helped her up the steps. Could she bring herself to ask him the question she had? Or rather the first question? She had many. Some probably would have been answered in the paperwork she never looked at.

“Are you comfortable?” The voice whispered in her ear, sending chills down her spine.

Jessabelle nodded and forced the words past the lump in her throat. “May I ask a question, Your Highness?”

“Of course.” Did his tone border on friendly?

“What happens next?” She stared at her hands as they twisted in her dress. Another hand, this one large, tan, obviously male, and sporting a gold band, covered hers, stilling the motion.

“Didn’t anyone give you the schedule for today?”

She nodded without looking up. “I didn’t look at any of it.”

“Why not?” She didn’t hear judgment, just curiosity.

“Because then it would be real,” she blurted out. “If I didn’t look through the information they gave me, I could pretend today wouldn’t come.”

* * *

Malachi wasn’t sure what to make of her words. It was clear, however, they’d have to sit down and have a long conversation sooner rather than later. At least the laws regarding verification of consummation no longer existed. He’d told his father in no uncertain terms there wouldn’t be anything of that nature. He probably should have stood up more regarding the ceremony but those were legalities. This was customary. He’d whisk his bride away from the palace for a couple weeks if his father pressed the issue again.

But the woman at his side was still waiting for his answer. He waved to the crowds as he leaned over to talk to her. “We are headed toward the palace. There will be a few minutes on the balcony waving to those assembled in the courtyard. Since I am not the Crown Prince, there is no expectation of a first kiss. There will be some pictures and the luncheon will start not long after. You may or may not be happy to know that we are not required to sit together. We can request to, but since this is our first meeting, whichever makes you more comfortable. Tradition would have us separate - you with my family and me with yours.”

She shook her head. “No. I have only my father left.” Right. He knew that. “I would prefer to be together near him if at all possible.”

“I will make sure of it.” More waving as they turned the corner. Her hands had relaxed enough that he moved his just a bit. “Can you smile and wave?”

He felt as much as saw her take a deep breath. She lifted a hand to wave. “After the luncheon, you and I will have several hours to tour the palace, introduce you to the staff, and so on. However, if you would prefer to rest, that can be arranged. Let me know by the end of the luncheon.”

She nodded.

“However, after the luncheon, we will be essentially alone together. Once we finish the tour, we will retire to my apartment to change. Our apartment, that is. Dinner will be served in one of the honeymoon suites at the palace. Our honeymoon plans have not been made yet. I have two weeks before I must return to my duties. We can spend those weeks here, at another residence, or elsewhere if there is somewhere you would like to go. Even if we stay here, though, we are not expected to interact with the rest of the family.”

“What would your choice be?”

How often did he have an actual choice? Seldom. “I would prefer to go to the mountain residence, I think. Only a few staffers, no family, remote, and comfortable. But you are the one doing most of the adapting to this situation. Please be honest about your preference. If you would like to go somewhere not owned by the family, I do need to know soon, however, so arrangements can be made.”

She nodded as the carriage turned up the steep hill going through the gates leading to the palace. “The mountain residence will be fine.”

Did she say that simply to acquiesce to him or was it her favorite place to be or some other reason? “Have you ever been to that part of the country?”

“No. I have always wanted to, but my father has been ill for many years. We haven’t gone many places since my mother died when I was young.”

In two sentences, he knew significantly more about his wife than he had before. And he still hadn’t gotten a good look at her. The carriage pulled to a stop in front of the main entrance to the palace. The door to the carriage was opened by someone he recognized but couldn’t name. Malachi knew the staff in the areas of the palace where he spent most of his time, but not this gentleman. He nodded his thanks and turned to help Jessabelle. For the first time, he got a good look at her.