The Debutante (Season Series #2)

Chapter 21: Breakfast Conversations

I entered the dining room only once I was ready to face the other debutantes, prepared for an onslaught like last night. I wasn't to be disappointed, as both Sarah and Penelope both leaped up from their seats to rush towards me the moment the footman opened the doors for me. Thankfully, at the opposite end of the room, Xavier had risen, waving me over. I skirted the tables, putting as many obstacles between me and the approaching debutantes as I could.

"You look as white as a ghost," Xavier whispered as he helped me into my chair.

"You have no idea," I whispered back, before turning a forced smile to the rest of the table. Georgina and Annabelle were sitting with us, the rest of the seats vacant.

"Do you mind if I join you?" Sarah said, already pulling out a chair for herself before Annabelle leaned over and rested a hand on it.

"As a matter of fact, we do," she said sweetly, "These seats are spoken for."

"Well I don't see anyone," Penelope sniffed, casting a look around. Only about half of the debutantes and inductees had arrived, the rest trickling in slowly, yawning.

"You wouldn't, would you? What with being so busy trying to befriend my cousin. Do you even remember how you treated her last Season?" Annabelle asked. Sarah and Penelope exchanged a glance before they looked to me beseechingly, but unfortunately I was unable to reply, caught in the middle of a yawn.

"We're trying to be nice!" Sarah protested, but Annabelle rolled her eyes.

"Run along and pretend to be nice somewhere else. We have no need for false friends here," Annabelle said. Penelope turned her nose up and marched away, but Sarah hesitated a moment before following. I felt a stab of pity as they resumed their old seats, stuck at the table where Adelaide was holding court. The willowy blonde was going on about something she clearly thought to be enrapturing while Mary Marquette's eyes were drooping closed.

"I really hate those two," Annabelle said through gritted teeth, before turning her attention to me, "Are you finally going to tell us all about your day yesterday? Because I missed whatever you said at dinner, I was stuck at the table of misery last night."

"I'm sorry for that," I said, but an incredibly chipper Annabelle cut me off.

"Don't worry, it's the princess who's to blame. She organized the tables and shoved me in with Ashley like an afterthought," Annabelle said, "Now stop stalling and tell me!"

So I told her all about the day, glossing over some of the more intimate details. Annabelle didn't need to know that Andrew had fed me from his own fork or had stolen a few kisses with me and she most certainly didn't have to know that I'd crafted my very own nail.

"Ugh, a blacksmith's? How very boring," she said, her face twisting into an expression of disgust, "Perhaps next time you can convince him to take you to a jeweller. Just imagine all the gorgeous necklaces and earbobs he could lavish on you!"

Thankfully I was spared from answering her as the coronets blared to announce the royal family. We stood as one and my hungry eyes turned to seek out Andrew. When he emerged behind his parents, I felt my stomach drop. He looked nearly as sleep-deprived as I had been, a weary look on his face as he took his place at the table.

Unbidden, my mind raced to dozens of different conclusions, ranging from "he had a late night at the embassy" all the way to "he was forced to sign a marriage treaty, just like you'd dreaded." When the rest of the room resumed their seats, I nearly sat down into empty space, my eyes riveted on my prince and not on the chair I'd been aiming for.

"Easy there," Xavier said, catching my elbow and settling me back into place.

"Thank you," I mumbled, unable to look away from Andrew. I willed him to look my way, to give me any sign that things were still all right. Instead, he stared down at the table as he unfolded his napkin, a servant placing his plate of breakfast before him. Not even the food that was deposited on our own table was enough for me to tear my gaze away.