Chapter thirty eight
It all felt like a picture in his dreams. A loud bang came again and again, filling his ears.
Jason frowned in his sleep, snuggling under his sheets to block his hearing from the imaginary noise.
But soon, the banging sound became even more dominant, so loud it felt real.
And of course it was because it was real…
He smashed his eyes open, realising just then that the sound was not a dream. Sitting up from the bed, he pulled the thick blankets off his body and analysed his room
The loud bangs were knocks on the door, regular and desperate.
Cautiously, he clutched his pistol and hopped off the bed to stalk to the door.
Having reached it, he slowly placed a hand on the knob with the other holding the gun in position. When he pulled the door open abruptly, he heaved a sigh of relief when he found the Duke of Anfield.
"Your Grace?" What is so important that you had to grant me such a scare in the middle of the night," his frowning glare ran through the young man in the angriest of ways.
Philip leaned his weight on the doorpost, gasping for breath as though he was the one scared to his toes,  "Jason. I need your advice."
The Earl's eyes widened while his glare on his friend darkened in genuine confusion, "And it couldn't wait till the morning? What is the matter?"
The Duke of Anfield rubbed his forehead shyly, his face wet with sweat. He panted some more, supporting his weight on the doorpost while he forced eye contact with his friend, "What is the least painful way I could break ties with Elizabeth?"
Jason's lips parted.
***
"You do not need much of a protocol," stated Earl, "Just tell her you do not want to marry her anymore."
"Or you could just toss her out of the house with her belongings," added Jason.
Philip glowered at both men, realising just then he had asked advice from the wrong people. "What is your problem with her exactly?" He looked from one to the other, expecting a reasonable answer this time.
Reasonable was one thing he should learn to stop expecting when this set of friends were concerned. "Let's start with how you're depriving me of sleep at the moment because of her!" Jason said this and dropped his third cup of coffee, fighting to keep his eyes open.
He stared at the Earl of Vetcom for an annoyingly long moment, just before he sighed, gave up and turned to Peter, "You are eldest, most experienced. You tell me what to do."
Peter, Duke of Norwich, joined his fingers to think, "Well first of all…why the sudden change of decision?"
"Think about it Peter," The Marquess winked, "he goes horse riding with Monica at dusk, then wants to break up with his betrothed at dawn. I expected this sooner or later if you ask me."
Shamefully, Philip smiled as his mind pieced the memories of what they shared one by one, "She has this sheer boldness, confessing love to me in the middle of a forest."
"And I bet that was the only sign you'd been waiting for," Raymond stated rather than ask.
Philip bowed his head slightly, silently accepting that, "I'm just thinking of how badly this will affect Elizabeth."
"Remember Philip," Peter warned, "We're leaving for the Palace tomorrow and probably returning the seal to Monica soon after. She'll leave England then and return home as she's always wanted…how then are you two going to get married?"
The Duke nodded in painful understanding, "We'll figure it out."
***
Elizabeth tossed in the first dress, then the second…and even more until it formed a pile of clothes that heaped out of her box. "I do not believe it! We'll be going to see the King tomorrow!"
From the looks of it, if the blonde wasn't supposed to behave according to the English civilization, she might as well have done a flip or two.
Monica studied the pile of dresses while she leant against the wall with her arms crossed. Certainly, her mind wasn't on whatever balderdash her cousin was blabbering about. "How do you all wear these things?" She inquired as she pulled at the hem of a satin night dress.
At that, Elizabeth grinned and seemed to gather a bit of control over her hyperactivity. With a twirl, she faced the Scottish, "Oh it is far more comfortable than those tight breeches and leather boots. I will dress you up some day; make sure not to steal Philip away from me though."
"I cannot promise that," Monica laughed. "But speaking of dressing me up, the King's daughter is getting engaged, an event we might attend on our arrival there. You have all the liberty to turn me into a doll if you like. Dresses and makeup." The faithful day was going to be her last with Philip, why not make the most out of it?
Elizabeth smiled with a shrug, "My pleasure. Go on then! Pack up something for the trip."
She hesitated, studied the blonde for a second or two, before sighing dismissively, "That won't be necessary. I'll be on my way to Scotland in three days if everything works out as planned. Thank you." The last words came with a heartfelt smile.
Elizabeth returned the warm gesture, flashing an innocent twinkle in her eyes, "You seem happy."
"Well your fiance's lips taste like wine," Monica declared as she began to take her leave.
On the contrary to the contempt she should have felt at the words, a smirk of pride creeped up the lips of the blonde, "I agree." A short while after, a grim replaced her features, "Promise not to come back later on and destroy England in the name of revenge."
The words made Monica look back at her with a frown. When the other lady just shrugged innocently, she turned back to the door and walked away. Obviously the words sunk in and worried her.
Why in the world would she even say that…
However, she had better things to think of. She was sure the Prince and his friends were gathered in the second largest study present within the walls. With that, she strode through the mansion solemnly until she stopped at the doorway, pulling the most serious look she could master.
The men stopped talking when the doors swung open suddenly without a knock. And wasn't it the only person they knew could do that…
She walked into the office and took a seat in their midst, ignoring the glances that fell on her.
"It is a pleasure to see you Monica," the first Prince stated genuinely.
But the Scottish seemed to be there for more business than pleasantries.
She hadn't batted an eyelid since, her gaze traveling from Prince Stephen to the rest, "How about we strike a deal."
***
"Get on the darn animal," The Marquess commanded harshly.
Elizabeth shook, gawking at the high horse and immediately shaking her head in refusal, "But I can't ride."
"Then did you plan to fly to the King's palace," he snarled at her.
When she didn't have an answer, she shot him a disappointed glower, praying to get rid of this situation soon enough.
She gasped in relief when Monica stalked to them and placed a hand on Earl's shoulder. "She can ride with me. Let her be," she smiled up at the man.
Suddenly, Earl asked the question he'd been meaning to ask, "And when did you two become best of friends? Last time I checked, you both looked like you could yank each other's head off!"
"We came to a compromise. Sorted everything out you see," Elizabeth rushed to say with a nervous grin.
When the Marquess still looked skeptical, Monica gave him a reassuring nod before she added, "Even if you don't trust her, you can at least give me a bit of it. Everything is fine."
That lightened his mood, even when his frown remained, "Well make sure to tie her to your horse lest she falls. Preferably, don't even bring her with us." Then he walked away.
"Why does he hate me so," Elizabeth wailed with what looked like genuine concern.
Monica looked her through in confusion, sighed and stalked away, "I don't think I was supposed to answer that."
She sighted Philip Forland a few feet away; and her walk turned to a half run.
Reaching him, she leaned her torso upon his white filly, "How are you?"
He flashed  a happy grin, realising his usual nervousness towards her had faded. With his eyes preening deep into hers, he shrugged, "I feel excited, fulfilled, as if a long journey is about to come to an end."
The lady raised a hand to touch his hair, fighting to ignore the nostalgia building up in her, "I owe you everything Philip."
The lad blushed childishly, the usual red flush filling his face. The youthfulness that action of his displayed destroyed all her strife to kill her guilt.
The plan was to use this man and run away, even when deep down she knew he didn't deserve it. She knew how big a void she'd make in his heart if she left, one that may never fill again.
Slowly, she forced a smile and lowered her hand from his hair, "Maybe during the engagement party at the palace, we will try dancing again."
"Certainly," Philip hushed and rolled his eyes, "and this time, do not walk out on me."
She nodded as much as she meant it, vowing to make the most out of their last dance and relish every moment of it. She could not deny that what he obviously felt for her was mutual. But it did not still change the fact his father killed hers. And to her…that created a permanent rift between both families. Her bad part wanted to make the Duke go through all she did; but the good one wanted to spend eternity with this naive, beautiful man.
While she shared more words with Philip, the Prince and other Royals made their way to the lawn along with a handful of footmen who had their luggages. The journey was gladly going to be short. But Monica vowed to make the most of it.