Queen Thomasine almost rued the day she'd had a son.
Non, that was not quite right, for she loved her son dearly. But she'd be hard pressed to refrain from admitting that the comfort of a daughter would be pleasant. Someone with whom she could embroider, or titter on about the failings of men. She sighed. Such bonding experiences, she thought wistfully.
Regrettably, that had not been her destiny.
She shook away the fantasies and turned to the misfortune at hand. For days now, seven to be precise, Prince had moped about the palace, hoping against hope his mysterious young woman would somehow reappear. Drop into his life the same way she'd dropped out.
Thomasine had deliberately let a full sennight of his nonsense persist before finally summoning him to set forth her twin's and her underhanded scheme. 'Twas not without some guilt, however.
She quashed the feelings ruthlessly and addressed him. "Have you decided what it is you are to do now, mon fils? You have spent this week past doing naught but brooding and sulking about."
His gaping shock was most telling.
"Maman," he said sharply-deeply offended.
She bit back a searing retort, irritated that young men dared think a mother could not possibly understand such dilemmas. Bah, what was it with today's children? Did they believe their parents had sprung from the womb grown? Not experienced love and infatuations in their youth? That they hadn't had a youth?
Thomasine pinched the bridge of her nose praying for patience. Tried to remember he was the future king. "My dear, 'tis time to move past this fixation," she said gently. She frowned. "Frankly, I find myself amazed that this…this woman-child had the nerve to run from the ball in such a manner. To run, at all, in fact. Most unladylike." She sniffed with disdain. "But, alas, not being in her shoes-well, so to speak, I suppose I shall withhold my judgment for the present time."
Prince lowered himself into an opposing chair so utter in his devastation her heart could not help but soften. She squared her shoulders, stiffened her resolve, vowing to see through her Faustine's plan, no matter the difficulty. "The question is, dear, what are your plans to remedy the situation?" She spoke briskly. She had great faith in his intellect; it just needed uncovering.
His expression made her wonder if she'd grown horns.
Thomasine shook her head in self-deprecation. "I vow I bear full responsibility for this predicament, of course. Well," she amended frowning, "except for the portion your father is responsible for." She said in her most regal tone-to-the-masses. "As the guiding parent, however, I have come to the conclusion that I have failed miserably in teaching you to act responsibly and timely in a crisis situation." She paced the length of the chamber. Thinking was always best when she had the versatility of movement.