Against his better judgment, Theo decided he would attend the royal wedding. He told himself that it would be the best way to get over her. It would never feel real in his mind unless he saw it for himself. In his mind, the only person that Adelaide belonged to was him.

At first, Theo hadn't even considered attending. After all, he wasn't on the best of terms with the royal family and hadn't precisely been expecting an invitation to the affair. But to his surprise and despair, one arrived at Kingfield House. It was the most finely crafted invitation he had ever received, and he desired to promptly rip it in two.

He restrained, however. He placed it on his desk, where it taunted him for near two weeks.

On the day of the wedding, Theo sat dazedly in Andrew's carriage as it brought them to Chapel Royal, St. James' Palace.

They did not speak, which was a miracle in itself. Theo had braced himself for some of Andrew's words of wisdom, advice, any number of speeches the old duke had been saving for the occasion, but none came. Perhaps there were just no suitable words.

When they arrived, he let Andrew make all the decisions. Which way to walk, what doors to enter, where to sit.

Every small step felt like he was making his way across the English Channel, only he had fallen out of the boat, and now he was left to swim every aching mile. The effort of just being present was one of epic proportions. Present physically, anyway. He went through the motions he had practiced his whole life, nodding, smiling, shaking hands.

But mentally, he was far away. Mentally, he couldn't be here in this cathedral where Adelaide was marrying Prince George.

His brain wouldn't accept it. Which brought him back to why he was here in the first place. To force himself to accept it. To force himself to accept that he could never have her. To accept that she was another man's to hold and touch now.

It was a terrible idea, really. Sick to his stomach, Theo had held back the desire to make a run for it twice already. The ceremony had not even begun.

When it finally did, it was long.

Agonizingly long.

It was torture to be sitting in that pew for over an hour, having to gaze upon her. When she walked into the chapel, everyone had stood. And Theo had, to his total and utter ruin, a direct line of sight to her.

She was amazing.

Glowing in the flickering of the candles, her wedding dress draped around her like a glorious shield. It was a simple design, which Theo was sure was done at her request. And it was perfect. She was perfect. She held her head high, and her crown did not slip once.

She was perfect.

But she was not for him.

He repeated it in his head over and over as she walked down the aisle.

She is not for you. She is not for you. She is not for you.

When it was over, Theo walked in a daze out of the chapel. He thought maybe he heard the voice of someone talking to him, but he didn't stop. He walked, numb, to the approaching carriage.

"Drop me at White's," Theo said to the footman as he got inside.

Andrew gave him a disapproving look, but Theo ignored it. Tonight, he would drown himself in distractions. Liquor, gambling, cheap talk, he didn't care what it was as long as it kept his thoughts from Addie.

He stepped out of the carriage and was assaulted with the sound of ringing bells in the distance, signaling the royal marriage. A full peal of goddamn bells. Theo ducked his head, determined to leave his heart out on the street. The club welcomed him with open arms and Theo sat in the din, drink in hand, waiting to forget.

****

The ceremony had been a testament of sheer will. Addie plastered the appearance of "matrimonial bliss" on her face, went through the ritual acts, and willed herself not to turn around and walk back out the doors. But with one perfunctory kiss, she was married. And more importantly, she was her old self again.

A princess, once more.

But Addie didn't feel the same. She didn't feel the same at all.

The wedding breakfast that had accompanied the ceremony was perhaps worse. It was worse than the hour when she had stood in the chapel with hundreds of people peering on, watching the falsity of her marriage unfold. Watching her as she wished for it to be over so that they might look away.

Except they never really would. This was her life now.

And all the while, she couldn't stop searching for him in the crowd. Theodore Shepard.

She didn't think he would come, but there had been fleeting moments during the ceremony when she could have sworn she saw a flash of his green eyes. Or rather, felt their gaze upon her.

When it was finally time for her to retire to her new chambers, she could have cried tears of joy, if not for one thing: it was her wedding night.

She no longer feared the act of it, not exactly. But she couldn't imagine George's hands on her. It wasn't that there was anything wrong with him. He cut a striking figure as her groom. No, it was more the fact that George wasn't him. He wasn't Theo.

And how could she give her body to one man while her heart was with another?

Once in her bedchamber, she nervously shuffled across the cold floor to her trunks, which had been brought to the palace that morning. Her new lady's maid had helped her undo her stays before Addie had dismissed her, eager to be alone for just a moment.

Pulling out her night rail, she slid the fine silk over her body. She unbound her hair from the coiffure that had taken hours to create, dropping pin by pin onto the dressing table. As she moved her hand to complete the task, Addie was distracted by the glint on her finger and stopped. Her new ring was a sparkling sapphire in a simple, golden band. It felt heavy.

A light knock sounded at the door, and Addie spun around.

"Come in," she announced, her voice coming out in shaky, uneven breaths.

George walked in, still in his ceremonial attire. His eyes glittered, his look all polished and pristine.

"Adelaide," he said, then paused. "I hope that it is alright for me to call you that?" he asked.

Addie nodded. "Of course."

"I merely wished to say goodnight," George said in response, surprising Addie. "Doubtless you are exhausted from the day?"

It was said as a question. He was gauging her response, trying to be considerate.

Addie nodded, relieved. "Goodnight, then."

George gave her a small smile and then left, closing the door behind him, shutting out Addie's anxieties for at least one more night.

As Adelaide adjusted to living with the royal family, she was grateful for the fact that she had never lived in Buckingham Palace as a child. At first, she thought that if she and George could live together at her old home, Bushy House, she would find some source of comfort in the familiarity. But now she was sure that it would have haunted her instead.

Even being around the daily workings of the palace made her feel as though ghosts were around her. And perhaps they were: maybe it was her family's presence that she was sensing.

Her mother would surely have endless advice for her, were she here. She herself, married after only knowing her fiancé for a short time. Not just that, but she moved across countries to marry a man who was many years her senior and had already had many illegitimate children. If her mother could marry into the British royal family with poise and grace, so could she. Doubtless, both of her parents would agree that Addie was doing the right thing which gave her some measure of relief.

But the person Addie truly wished she could talk to was Charles. Her brother was in many ways like their father: he would cavort around London as though he wasn't the future King of England, but when it came to all matters of import, matters of state, family, and heart, he was there. He had the charisma of a monarch meant to rule a nation and the mind of man cunning enough to do so.

So, while Addie's parents would doubtless be telling her that she had done the right thing, Charles would be telling her what to do next.

She smiled, sitting in her lavish chambers as she imagined her brother walking through the doors, his blonde locks falling over his eyes, begging for a trim. She would laugh then. She would always laugh.

A lurch in her stomach wiped the smile off her face as she ran to find the nearest receptacle before retching the entire contents of her stomach into the basin.

Well, there goes breakfast.