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helping him. Curse their fool pride! Curse their fear of weakness! Why? Why must the world hide behind this inane strength? Why is it so difficult for people to admit their faults? To admit when something is wrong? To live in a farce is no life at all! And yet—and yet—his father and mother are so buried within their own that they have refused to speak of it to him.
    He had not been trained and counseled with the affairs of the kingdom since before he went away to school. It had been years since he knew of anything that went on—and if they did not open up soon, if they did not drop their pride and allow him the ability to help and learn where he could, his father would die and all of the affairs would suddenly rest upon him. The affairs he knew nothing about!
    How was he supposed to sustain and maintain this great land and all of her people when those who love it most were not willing to allow him to? He ran his fingers through his hair and rested his knees upon his elbows, his hands clasped together supporting his forehead.
    His father was dying. The great king was not so great anymore.
    Oh, how he loved that man! How he needed him. He could not go—not yet. He could not leave them now. His mother would surely collapse; her love was so strong—so perfect, so true. He had never seen a bond like they had. He could not ever imagine one so pure.
    Ugh. He knew that was why they insisted upon this ball to begin with. They needed their son to find a wife and settle down. Ha. Like he could just pick in a hat and choose a name and be forever grateful to her for desiring to accept his hand and to live happily ever after. It did not work that way. Not all love can be as bonded as his parents’ was.
    No, he needed time, he needed patience, he needed to truly learn to trust and accept a woman before he could fall in love with her, let alone begin to think about living his life with her.
    He smirked. Perhaps that was why he chose to hang about the ball with Eleanoria Woodston? It gave him the perfect excuse to hide from those he was expected to fall in love with and instead, bring happiness to someone who needed it most.
    His heart warmed. It was perhaps a very good thing indeed he decided to help someone instead of worrying about his own upsets. He needed a release from life—and this Ella, with her no-nonsense and frank ways, was the perfect girl to achieve such a thing. He stood up and, grabbing his nice leather boots from the armoire, he tugged them on and hastened out of his room and down the stairs. It was time he found his mother, there was a ball invitation he needed to secure and deliver tomorrow.

CHAPTER SEVEN
    ELLA WAS IN THE rear kitchens helping the lower servants make currant tarts when the knock from the footman came announcing John had arrived. “Miss Eleanoria Woodston, his lordship John is here to see you. He is waiting in the back, in the orchard, if you wish to accompany him.”
    The other two maids’ eyes were round as Ella wiped her hands upon her apron. “Thank you, Paul. Could you kindly see that no one else is aware of his presence?” she asked.
    Paul grinned really big and pulled out a large gold coin. “Oh, he made sure of that already. Gave me this to keep silent to them upstairs.”
    “Thank you.”
    “I would have done so anyway—you know I would have—but to get a prize such as this! Ho! I could not pass it up.”
    “You best be sharing with us all, or you will not be seeing any of these tarts,” teased one of the maids.
    “I could buy me a whole cartload of tarts with this pretty piece!”
    The girls laughed as Ella slipped out of the back kitchen and to the door that led to the orchard. She had traveled several feet alongside the outbuildings before she noticed she still had her apron on. Quickly she whisked it off and ran her hand over her hair to smooth and tuck the wayward wisps into her bun. She could not for the life of her fathom why John would come again to see her so soon. Her