Franz was on his feet facing them all, and when Elisabeth finally looked at him—really looked at him—tears lodged in her throat. Tall and broad shouldered, that strong jaw, those kind eyes, the lips she’d felt the contours of. He looked—

Like home.

If only he weren’t the emperor. If only he hadn’t been intended for Helene. If only Elisabeth had stayed instead of running away last night. If only she’d felt she could.

He’d said he wanted her, and she had told him no. No when her heart was screaming yes. She’d chosen her sister’s happiness, and it was the right thing to do—she knew it was right. And yet … how could the right thing feel so wrong? She felt the wrongness in her chest, her gut, the deepest parts of herself. She had asked him—no, told him—to break her heart, but now all she wanted was to take it back.

Franz raised his glass. “Thank you. Thank you all for being here.”

Elisabeth stared hard at the tile floor, willing her heart to stop beating in her ears.

“I have something to announce,” Franz continued, every word dragging them closer to the end.

If Elisabeth could only cover her ears, hide under the table like Spatz might. Helene reached for her hand, and Elisabeth hoped her sister couldn’t tell how clammy it was. It was taking every ounce of her strength to maintain a calm exterior.

“I want to ask a young lady for her hand.” Franz’s voice jangled, nervous, and it grated against Elisabeth’s skin—fingernails on chalkboards, the uneasy shudder of a fork hitting a tooth.

She closed her eyes. This was it.

“The Duchess of Bavaria.”

Elisabeth’s heart prepared itself for the blow.

“Elisabeth.”

A beat. A collective intake of breath across the room. Her thoughts ran into a wall and stopped. She opened her eyes.

Had he said …?

“Elisabeth.”

He was looking at her, the corners of his eyes smile creased and questioning, his glass raised.

Elisabeth turned to Helene, and they both stared. Helene’s face was white with shock. Elisabeth couldn’t tell what her own expression was. Wonder? Relief? Guilt? Helene let go of Elisabeth’s hand.

“No.” Their mother was the first to gasp out a response.

“Congratulazioni!” Francesca beamed, not understanding the turn things had taken.

Out of the corner of Elisabeth’s eye, she could see Maxi, anger slipping past his normal mask of indifference. Sophie’s face was pure shock. Mother’s eyes bulged.

It was Mother’s face that told her it was real. Elisabeth hadn’t heard wrong.

Franz was proposing to her. Not Helene. Elisabeth.

Her whole body lightened.