High Society by Emily Chadwick

Lady Hargrove was a plump, unlovely woman of short stature. Over the course of several (thankfully brief) meetings, Reth had discovered that her favourite topic of conversation was herself and her many cats. After all the small talk and artful forgetfulness, however, she would refer casually to her daughter. Then, she would smile, displaying all of her straight white teeth. Reth had been avoiding her all day.

Being the second youngest prince had its perks. Unlike his eldest brother, Soren, it was not imperative that he find a match in any haste. Soren had announced his engagement last month and all the mothers who had once been trying to marry their daughters off to him were now after Reth and his brothers. To be honest, Reth did not really know why Lady Hargrove was trying so hard to impress him and to gain his interest; even if he really truly liked Lady Hargrove’s daughter, it was his own mother who had the last say.

Lady Hargrove was not the first mother to approach him with a marital agenda, but she was certainly the most persistent. Reth could recall no less than eight ladies with daughters of marriageable age approaching him within the past fortnight. Desperate times call for desperate measures, of course, and finding a decent hiding a place had become Reth’s number one priority. He had tried the herb garden, the rookery and the shrine with no success; someone had always managed to find him. Lady Hargrove seemed to be particularly good at it.

Today, he was checking out the ballroom to see if it suited his needs. No one seemed to ever use it apart from for formal events, so he felt pretty sure that no one would think of looking for him there. The ballroom doors were tall and ornate, carved with a myriad of wooden vines and flowers. They also creaked. Reth winced as he pushed them open just enough to slip inside.

The ballroom itself was large, open and elegant, but, unfortunately, it was not as empty as Reth had been hoping. In the centre of the room, dancing to silent music only she seemed to be able to hear, was a young woman of about sixteen summers. She was wearing a simple green gown and her dark hair was straight and sleek, as was the current fashion at court. It seemed to Reth that he had intruded on a very private moment, and his cheeks coloured with embarrassment.

She had not noticed him, so it would be easy for him to slip away. Manners, however, dictated that he make his presence known and apologise.

“Forgive me,” he said, startling her into spinning to face him. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“Oh, Prince Reth!” The girl blushed a deep red. “I’m sorry, I was just looking for a quiet place.”

Reth offered her a smile; this was the sort of girl he could see himself marrying.

“It’s all right. What’s your name?”

“Oh, excuse me, your highness, I should have said.” She gave him a rather flustered curtsey, peeking up at him through her lashes. “I am Lady Sana Hargrave.”