“She’ll have Charles,” I choke out.

Robert laughs once, but it’s devoid of genuine amusement. “Vivienne couldn’t care less what Charles thinks about anything, much less her.”

“I know she cares what you think,” I offer, eager to drop the subject of Charles. “It means more to her than anything.”

“I appreciate that,” he says, chuckling. The sound is authentic this time, and I relax slightly in response. “But that’s not true. Not anymore.” He takes in my confused expression, then continues. “When we were at that football game, and you were injured, Vivienne ran from the suite like her life depended on it. We were in a public venue. She knew it would upset her mother, she knew it would disappoint me, she knew what the consequences could be, and she ran to you anyway. I’ve never seen her so panicked. When the doctors told her my diagnosis, she sat there calmly and started asking questions. She accosted two of her own agents to get down to you that day.”

I drop my eyes to study the glass tumbler I’m gripping.

“I thought she was just missing her time in the States when she first returned home. She was so withdrawn, so lifeless. Lackluster about everything. We went to South Carolina just for her, because Charles convinced me she was missing America. But nothing changed when we landed—if anything, she was even more despondent. Until Lionel said your name. When you arrived earlier, she was the happiest I’ve ever seen her. And at dinner, I couldn’t believe…she listens to you. She cares what you think. She relies on you. I’ve never seen her act that way before—with anyone.”

I look at the chess board and move one of my pieces as I avoid Robert’s probing gaze. I can’t even begin to sort through the myriad of emotions his words are provoking.

“You came here, even though you have nothing to gain from it. Why?”

“Because she needed me to. If Vivienne needs to get married, I’ll make sure she gets her wedding so she can fulfill her duty here,” I reply, staring him straight in the eye.

Vivienne’s father nods sadly. “There’s nothing I can do about the marriage law,” he admits. “I’ve tried everything. It’s no longer in effect, but Vivienne was born before the date of the official record. There’s no way to change that now. I hoped she wouldn’t have to take the throne until she’s older and would have already chosen to marry voluntarily. Then it would be a moot point. Things changed suddenly, as you know.”

“Wasn’t she always destined to have an arranged marriage, though? There can’t be that many options who are close to her age.”

“What do you mean?”

“Doesn’t Vivienne have to marry someone from a noble family?”

“Of course not,” Robert replies. “What gave you that idea?”

“Movies, I guess,” I mutter.

He chuckles. “Vivienne is entitled to marry anyone she likes. Royalty marrying other nobility is certainly a tradition, but not a requirement. Vivienne’s mother was a subject when we married.”