Chapter forty
The Marquess straightened his knees so he stood upright. Raising his barrel gun to shoulder height, he closed an eye and set his aim at the faraway beast.
Philip's body came in the way now and then, much to his displeasure. And whenever he could actually sight the warthog, it galloped too randomly in a way that played with his focus.
But he would do it anyway!
Just out of caution, he added an extra bullet to his gun and aimed again.
Philip's body coming in the way…
Warthog galloping randomly…
The cycle repeated again and again, posing a serious threat to his sanity.
But then, in a split of a second, none of those two was happening. At that, he shot. Twice!
The animal released a loud grunt and tipped over, landing violently upon the grass. It tumbled once or twice until its carcass came to a halt with one final slide.
Maybe it was surprise or shock, but Philip's eyes gawked at Earl's victory that he also tripped over something and fell with his chest to the grass. That didn't stop him from gawking though. "He won," he whispered to himself with a tone that sounded like disbelief. At the moment, he was certain the Marquess was throwing a victory dance behind him. That…or coming up to him, giving him a warm smile and rubbing his defeat in his face like lotion.
But none of those happened. Instead, Earl fell on his back to the grass and looked into the sky, a genuine, satisfied smile forming along his lips. His chest rose and fell in a rhythmic pattern of breathing, and when he finally opened his mouth, all he did was scream, "Yes!!"
Philip could not help but laugh at himself. And there he was thinking Dukedom could never be fun.
Back to the others, Prince Stephen studied the two ahead of them for a while, a shadow of a smile on his mouth. The sight was pleasing, he couldn't help but admit.
Suddenly, he sighed and turned to the others, "Okay we can camp!"
***
Brandon Manuel had obtained a number of badges back in boy's scout. It all began from the basic knot tieing badge to the complex setting-a-fire badge. And now it had all finally come in great need. It didn't take him three minutes before he was able to set up a fire that burned scorchingly enough to roast the animal tied above it.
The others formed a circle about the flames, exchanging comments about various ways Philip could serve Earl now that he'd lost to him.
All others…except Elizabeth.
She sat away from the company under a conifer tree with knees to get chest. She let her eyes travel through  the circle of friends who laughed and exchanged words. That was when she realised.
No matter how much she tried to deny it, she was alone. And it seemed no one cared to notice.
The blonde sighed heavily and looked down at her hands. Unfortunately, it had to go on like this for a little while longer. One thing she didn't realise was…the worst was about to happen.
Someone came to sit by her side on the scanty grass. To her, she finally found a soul who cared. And when she turned and found Philip, her smile returned like it was always there.
The Duke however, was not smiling back, much to Elizabeth's worry. He sighed finally, obviously fighting to keep the eye contact between them, "We need to talk."
Elizabeth recognized his tone of speech painfully well, so well she knew she was not going to enjoy his next words. Steadily, she placed her hands on his and searched his eyes for answers, "What's wrong?"
Philip Forland drew his palm from underneath hers slowly, just before he began playing with the engagement ring on his finger, "We both know this betrothal isn't going as planned and…"
"Stop it," Elizabeth pitched in, knowing fully well where this could end if she didn't. This time, she clutched both hands on his so tight she was sure he couldn't pull away, giving him a greater dose of her glare, "I understand we have been going through a lot of distance lately. To be exact, we were never close. But this is rather a rash way to fix it don't you think? I will patch this up Your Grace, I promise."
Philip looked into her teary eyes and gave up instantly. Automatically, he turned to Earl who was seated by the Prince's side. The Marquess tilted his head and returned the stare, proving he was fully aware of what was going on. But his look seemed to deepen to a frown, the deepest he'd ever seen in such a jovial man as that.
Philip knew too well the message his friend was striving to pass on; an order to break the betrothal. And it was a duty to obey the superior now, wasn't it?
Apart from that, there was Monica. He watched her intently as she grinned and chatted with the men, certainly about how pathetic they were or how seductive she could be.
Charm!
One thing she had that he would forever admire…and want.
With a determined sigh, he faced Elizabeth once more, "The marriage. I'm calling it off."
And his tone was final.
***
The horns blared from the distance, accompanied by the sound of a million people cheering. The echo of music being played by an orchestra seeped through every opening of the palace to the outside.
Massive was an understatement when it came to the castle of England. If Elizabeth thought the Duke's empire cost a fortune, this one was simply luxury. It was bound by tens of acres of freshly cut lawn and tropical flowers.
The architecture comprised of delicate but swanky walkways in the most appropriate places. The ponds were certainly no less than a dozen. Coming to the building itself was a whole different story.
Monica just…gawked while her horse walked through the gates.
Uniformed guards lined each side of the entrance with simply beautiful ladies in front throwing flowers upon the red rug that served as a path for the Monarchs.
To the Princes, this was a welcome tradition they might get bored of someday. But to Monica, she'd never seen anything grander.
As Elizabeth looked towards the brightly lit hall, couples swayed side to side in each other's arms. And unconsciously, she turned to stare at Philip who was saying something intently to Monica.
As much as this was the plan, it seemed to hurt more than she thought it would. When all the Monarchs and their footmen had ridden their horses to the gates, the trumpet sounds blared even more, announcing their arrival.
Prince Stephen hopped down his own beast with a satisfied grin, shrugging his coat off as a footman took it from his shoulders. His eyes seemed to be searching for something…or someone.
And there he was…
High up in the seemingly most expensive balcony, a man clothed in heavy robes looked down at the visitors, especially the two youngest Princes.
He had the smile of victory and pride on his face. And judging from his looks, he was quite a pricy lad when he was young. Now, he had a touch of silver stained hair on his temples and a slightly wrinkled  smile.
Although Monica hadn't seen the King of England before, it was surely obvious there was nobody more suitable for that position than this man.
When Stephen finally saw him, he stretched both arms out and flashed a wide grin, "Your Majesty…" he broke into a race towards the double doors until he was completely lost in the melee of guests in the hall.
"I guess we'll have to show ourselves the way in," Monica said just before she jumped down her black horse. Immediately after, she faced Elizabeth who seemed to have stilled to a sculpture since the last hour. With a hand out to help the blonde down, she smiled warmly "I'm guessing this is the first time I get to see you gloomy. Come on…we'll freshen up and you'll tell me what it's all about."
Elizabeth smiled. And there she was thinking she was alone.
Slowly, she accepted her cousin's hand and jumped carefully down to her side, "Do I still get to turn you into a doll?"
A small laugh left the damsel's lips, her green eyes fixed lovingly on the blonde, "If that makes you happy."
Unlike the Scottish had predicted, a butler came their way with a light bow, "My Lords, my ladies," he began with a deep French accent, "your rooms are this way." He gestured for them to follow.
All walked after him obediently, tired and eager for a dance or two. All but Earl and Jason. Side by side, they watched both ladies walk away intently, taking their time to do so in silence.
"I suddenly have a bad hunch that Elizabeth could drag Monica into her madness if this sisterly love goes on," The Marquess broke the silence.
Jason's frown just deepened at the words he considered, "It would be a disadvantage to us if she's against the clan, no matter how I hate to admit it."
Their minds said, they followed the others quietly.
***