Chapter 12: The Prince

The morning sun shone brightly over Mayfair as Emma sat by her window, her gaze wandering to the lively streets below. The night's events—the lavish ball, the admiring gazes, the whispers behind her back, her first kiss with Harrison—still felt like a dream. Eleanor had been so proud of her, as any mother would be, but Emma was far from feeling secure. The queen had named her the Diamond of the Season for the first time in almost a decade, an honor that sent a surge of nervous excitement through her veins.

But all the attention, the expectations—it was too much. She was expected to remain poised and graceful, to smile and accept every compliment, every suitor. And yet, inside, Emma felt anything but ready to face them.

The weight of her responsibilities settled heavily on her chest.

"I need air," she muttered to herself.

In a flurry of quiet movement, she donned a simple riding habit—unadorned, practical—and hurried out of the room before any of the servants could notice. She couldn't bear the thought of facing her suitors just yet, or enduring their forced smiles and compliments.

Emma made her way to the stables, the quiet of the morning offering her some respite. The familiar scent of hay and leather greeted her as she mounted her horse, Hazel, and spurred her toward the park. It was a brisk ride, and with each mile, she felt the tension in her shoulders loosen.

The park was peaceful at this early hour, with only a few walkers and riders dotting the landscape. She rode deeper into the trees, allowing her thoughts to wander freely, away from the eyes of society.

But her peace was short-lived.

As she rounded a bend in the path, a voice, low and smooth, interrupted her reverie.

"Careful, miss. You might lose yourself in thought and end up in the lake."

Startled, Emma jerked the reins, bringing Hazel to a halt. She turned to find a tall man on a black stallion, his expression amused. He was handsome, though in a way that was more roguish than refined. His dark eyes gleamed with mischief, and his smile was nothing short of devilish.

"And you are?" she asked, her voice cool, trying not to let him see how startled she was.

The man smirked, his gaze drifting over her with curious interest. "You don't know who I am?"

Emma lifted an eyebrow, unfazed. "Am I supposed to?"

He laughed, the sound rich and warm. "I suppose not. It's refreshing, truly. Most people would have fawned over me by now."

She found herself responding with a huff of laughter, despite her better judgment. "Well, I'm not most people."

"Clearly," he agreed, nudging his horse closer to hers. "What brings you out here alone? Not afraid of getting into trouble, are you?"

"Hardly," she replied, her tone light. "I'm just out for a ride. What about you?"

"Oh, I'm always out here. A bit of solitude helps clear the mind," he said, his voice carrying an easy confidence. "Though I must admit, I haven't met many who share my fondness for wandering the park at this hour."

His charm was undeniable, but Emma couldn't help but remain cautious. "And I suppose I should be flattered by your attention?"

"Only if you're keen to keep up with my wit," he teased, his eyes sparkling with humor. "I could entertain you for hours."

Emma rolled her eyes, though she couldn't hide the smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "I'll pass. But thank you for the offer."

The conversation flowed effortlessly, his humor and lighthearted teasing putting her at ease. She found herself laughing more than she had in days, momentarily forgetting the world that awaited her in Mayfair.

However, as they continued riding, Emma felt a sudden twinge of discomfort in her foot. She attempted to dismount but misjudged the position of her foot in the stirrup. With a sharp cry, she lost her balance and stumbled to the ground.

The man was immediately at her side, dismounting with alarming speed. "Are you all right?" he asked, concern momentarily replacing his easy smile.

"I'm fine," Emma said quickly, attempting to stand, though a sharp pain in her ankle made her gasp. She stumbled again, this time unable to catch herself.

"Clearly not," he muttered, scooping her up with surprising strength and gentleness.

"Put me down," she protested, though she lacked the energy to resist.

"You'll hurt yourself more," he said with authority, and though Emma could've argued, she knew it was pointless.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked after a moment, feeling embarrassed at being carried in such a manner.

"To your house," he replied easily. "I don't believe it's wise to leave you alone in such a condition."

As they approached the Hastings residence, Emma's thoughts swirled in confusion. She couldn't seem to focus on anything but the way his arm was supporting her and the strange comfort in his presence. When they finally arrived, he helped her dismount and guided her inside, where Eleanor was waiting.

"Emma?" Eleanor called, stepping forward, but her words caught in her throat when she saw the man who had helped her.

"Your Grace," the man said, bowing slightly, though his gaze never left Emma.

Eleanor's eyes widened in recognition. "Prince Adrian. What a surprise to see you here."

Emma blinked, her mind racing. "Prince?"

Adrian gave her a sly smile. "Yes, indeed. I suppose I should've mentioned that earlier."

Eleanor's voice was a mixture of surprise and reverence. "It's a pleasure, Your highness. But what brings you here today?"

Adrian gestured toward Emma. "I simply wanted to make sure Miss Hastings was well after her... misadventure in the park."

Emma was still stunned, her mouth working but no words coming out.

Before she could respond, the door opened again, and Harrison stepped inside. His gaze immediately fixed on Emma, his eyes flicking to Adrian before settling back on her. His expression hardened as he took in the sight—the prince so close to her, his hand resting on her arm as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"What's going on here?" Harrison asked, his voice tight, his eyes burning with something Emma couldn't quite place.

Adrian raised an eyebrow, his easy smile never faltering. "Ah, Lord Ashbourne. I was just assisting Miss Hastings with a minor accident."

Harrison's gaze never left Emma, his jaw tense as he asked, "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Emma said quickly, trying to keep the panic from her voice. She looked up at Harrison, but there was something in his eyes that made her hesitate.

"Emma," Eleanor said gently, breaking the silence. "Why don't you sit down? I'll have someone bring you something for your ankle."

Emma nodded, grateful for the distraction. As she moved to sit, she could feel Harrison's eyes on her, and though she tried to ignore him, she could sense the tension in the room.

The prince, still standing nearby, glanced between the two of them with an almost amused look in his eyes. "I do hope I didn't cause any trouble," he said lightly, giving a small bow. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Hastings. Perhaps we'll meet again soon."

And with that, he turned and left, leaving a charged silence in his wake.

Harrison lingered, his expression unreadable, before he finally spoke, his voice low. "You shouldn't have gone out alone."

Emma opened her mouth to respond, but Eleanor cut in. "Let's not argue right now. Emma needs to rest."

As Eleanor helped Emma settle onto the couch, Harrison remained at the doorway, his posture stiff. Emma couldn't shake the feeling that everything—her debut, her interactions with Adrian, and especially the distance she felt from Harrison—was shifting in ways she couldn't control.

Emma shifted uncomfortably under Harrison's intense gaze. The way he stood at the doorway, hands clenched at his sides, made her heart beat faster. She hated the tension growing between them but didn't know how to address it.

"Harrison," she began softly, her voice almost a whisper.

He stepped forward, his expression softening slightly. "Emma, you could've been seriously hurt. Do you realize how reckless it was to ride out alone?"

"I didn't plan to fall," she said, a hint of irritation creeping into her tone. "I just needed to think."

"And you couldn't think in the gardens? Or here, in the safety of your home?" His voice was firm, but his eyes betrayed his worry.

"Why are you so upset?" she asked, sitting straighter despite the pain in her ankle.

"Because I care about you," he admitted, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. "And the thought of you out there, vulnerable—" He stopped himself, shaking his head. "I can't bear it."

Emma blinked, his confession rendering her momentarily speechless. She opened her mouth to respond, but Eleanor's voice interrupted them.

"Harrison, let's not overwhelm her," Eleanor said gently as she returned with a servant carrying a tray of warm compresses.

Harrison nodded stiffly, stepping back to allow the servant to tend to Emma's ankle. As the room fell into a tense silence, Emma couldn't help but steal glances at him. His worry was genuine, and while his protective nature annoyed her at times, it also warmed her heart.

Once the servant finished wrapping her ankle, Eleanor smiled kindly at Emma. "You need to rest now, my dear. No more adventures until you've healed."

"Yes, Mother," Emma said with a small smile, though her thoughts were still preoccupied with Harrison's earlier words.

As Eleanor left the room, Harrison lingered by the doorway, his expression conflicted. Finally, he stepped closer, his voice quieter now. "Emma, about earlier—"

But before he could finish, the butler entered, announcing, "His Grace, Prince Adrian, has sent a note for Miss Hastings."

The tension in the room thickened instantly. Harrison's jaw tightened as the butler handed Emma a neatly folded letter sealed with the royal crest.

Emma hesitated before breaking the seal, aware of Harrison's piercing gaze. The letter was short, the prince's handwriting elegant and precise:

Miss Hastings,

It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance this morning, though I regret the circumstances. I trust you are recovering well. Should you require anything, do not hesitate to call upon me.

Adrian

Emma stared at the letter, unsure how to feel. The prince's kindness was undeniable, but she couldn't shake the unease it stirred within her.

Harrison's voice cut through her thoughts. "What does it say?"

She looked up, meeting his gaze. "He was checking on me, that's all."

Harrison scoffed, a bitter edge to his tone. "How very considerate of him."

"Harrison," Emma said warningly, but he shook his head.

"You don't know him," he said, his voice low. "Men like him don't give their attention freely. There's always a reason."

"And what reason could he possibly have? He's a prince." she asked, her patience wearing thin.

Harrison took a step closer, his voice filled with frustration. "Because you're the Diamond of the Season, Emma. You're everything society admires, everything he could use to his advantage."

Emma frowned, the weight of his words sinking in. "Do you really think so little of me? That I wouldn't see through someone's intentions?"

His expression softened, guilt flashing in his eyes. "No, Emma. That's not what I meant. I just—" He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling heavily. "I don't want you to get hurt."

Her heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice. "Harrison, I can take care of myself. I appreciate your concern, but you can't protect me from everything."

For a moment, they stood in silence, the unspoken tension between them almost unbearable. Finally, Harrison stepped back, his face unreadable.

"Get some rest," he said quietly before turning and leaving the room.

Emma watched him go, her chest tightening with emotions she couldn't quite name. She glanced down at the prince's letter again, her mind swirling with confusion.

In that moment, she realized that her debut was only the beginning of the challenges ahead. Between Harrison's protectiveness and Prince Adrian's sudden interest, Emma felt as though her life was no longer her own.

The morning had been a whirlwind of chaos and quiet pain. Emma's ankle, still tender from her fall in the park, was tightly bandaged. Despite Eleanor's protests, she had insisted on dressing and appearing for the occasion. As the Diamond of the Season, any absence would fuel gossip, and the Hastings name could not afford a blemish.

The drawing room was prepared to perfection, with soft lilac curtains framing the tall windows and a bouquet of fresh roses adorning the side table. Emma sat in the center, her injured foot discreetly propped on a cushion beneath her gown. Eleanor had ensured her daughter's appearance was flawless, her lavender dress elegantly understated, her hair swept back in a neat chignon.

Thomas, her fourteen-year-old brother, sat beside her, his legs swinging impatiently as he fidgeted with his cravat. "Emma, do you think any of them will bring a sword? They should, you know. A gentleman ought to be prepared for duels."

Emma stifled a laugh. "Thomas, I hardly think they'll arrive armed."

"Well, they should," Thomas muttered, crossing his arms. "What if someone challenges them for your hand? They'll need to defend their honor."

"Thomas, let your sister focus," Alfred said, his tone indulgent. The Duke of Hastings sat across from them, his commanding presence filling the room. Though his stern gaze was fixed on the open newspaper in his hands, his occasional glances at Emma betrayed his concern.

Eleanor bustled in, her expression a mixture of excitement and apprehension. "Emma, your first suitor will be arriving shortly. Smile, be gracious, and remember your standing. Thomas, please behave yourself."

Thomas groaned. "I'm always behaving. You just don't like my kind of behaving."

Alfred hid a chuckle behind his paper, while Emma couldn't help but smile. Despite her nerves, her younger brother's antics always lightened the mood.

The first suitor entered promptly, a nervous young man with an awkward bow and an overly rehearsed greeting.

"Miss Hastings," he stammered, "it is an honor to meet you."

Emma inclined her head, her smile polite. "Thank you. Please, have a seat."

The conversation was stilted, with Alfred asking measured questions about the gentleman's background and Thomas chiming in with his usual unconventional queries.

"Do you ride?" Thomas asked, leaning forward.

"Er, yes," the suitor replied, glancing nervously at Alfred.

Thomas grinned. "Good. If you can't keep up with Emma in the park, you don't stand a chance."

"Thomas," Eleanor said sharply, though her eyes sparkled with amusement.

The morning dragged on, with suitor after suitor arriving and departing. Some were charming, others bland, but none stirred anything in Emma beyond polite interest. Her ankle throbbed beneath her gown, a constant reminder of the morning's events.

Just as the latest gentleman exited, the butler entered to announce another visitor.

"Lord Ashbourne," he intoned.

Emma's breath caught. Harrison.

Alfred looked up from his paper, his brows lifting in surprise. "Harrison? Back already?"

Before Emma could gather her thoughts, Harrison strode into the room. His dark hair was slightly tousled, and his expression was unreadable as his gaze landed on her.

"Emma," he said, his voice soft but firm.

"Harrison," she replied, her own voice betraying a mix of surprise and relief.

Thomas jumped up from his seat, his face lighting up. "Harrison! Did you bring me anything from London?"

Harrison's lips curved into a faint smile. "Not this time, Thomas. But perhaps next visit."

Thomas pouted but returned to his seat, clearly satisfied with the promise.

Eleanor stepped forward, her demeanor warm but curious. "Harrison, what brings you back to Hastings so soon?"

"I wished to speak with Emma," he said simply, his eyes never leaving her.

Eleanor hesitated, then glanced at Alfred, who gave a small nod. "Very well," she said. "But only briefly. Emma has a long day ahead."

As Harrison moved closer, Emma felt her heart quicken. He seemed different somehow—more composed, yet distant.

"How's your ankle?" he asked, his voice low enough that only she could hear.

"It's fine," she replied, though her tone lacked conviction. "Thank you for asking."

Before Harrison could say more, the door opened again, and Clara swept in. Her vibrant gown and perfectly styled hair were as striking as ever, and her eyes immediately locked onto Harrison.

"Harrison!" Clara exclaimed, her tone both surprised and delighted. "I didn't expect to find you here."

Emma stiffened, her moment with Harrison abruptly shattered.

Harrison turned to Clara, his polite smile firmly in place. "Clara. I wasn't aware you were visiting."

"Oh, I simply couldn't stay away," Clara said breezily, glancing at Emma with thinly veiled disdain. "And I see you've found the Diamond of the Season. How fortunate."

"Indeed," Harrison said, his tone carefully neutral.

The tension in the room was palpable. Clara's presence was like a storm cloud, overshadowing the brief connection Emma and Harrison had shared.

"Well," Clara continued, her gaze flicking to Emma's bandaged ankle. "It seems you've had quite the morning, Miss Hastings. I hope you're not overexerting yourself."

Emma forced a smile, her pride refusing to let Clara see any vulnerability. "I'm quite capable, thank you."

Harrison glanced between the two women, his expression unreadable. "Perhaps we should continue this conversation another time," he said, his tone clipped.

Emma nodded, though her heart sank. "Of course."

As Harrison and Clara exited together, Thomas leaned over to whisper, "I don't like her."

Emma laughed softly, ruffling her brother's hair. "Neither do I, Thomas. Neither do I."

Alfred cleared his throat, drawing her attention. "You'll face many challenges, Emma, but remember this: no one defines your worth but you."

His words lingered with her long after the drawing room emptied.