The next morning
Pressure bore down on Prince's chest equivalent to that of an African elephant crushing his breast bone. The betrothal ball was but a mere sennight off and he was no closer to a solution than the moment the glass slipper slipped on Elma's dainty foot. That name was just wrong.
He moved to the open window and placed a palm over his face, frustration miring panic. What if he couldn't find a way out and really wound up married to a human advection motion detector? He lifted his head and stared out. Despite the sun rising over the horizon for what promised to be a beautiful day, his breakfast remained on a tray, cold and untouched.
A day of mending walls and tending tenant matters would go far in clearing his head. Deciding how to divert an impending wedding doomed for disaster without hurting an innocent young woman was difficult. The usual solution in these matters was the female crying off.
Prince was not fool enough to believe Lady Roche would allow either of her daughters any such thing. And, what of Cinderella? He was still unclear of her role in that strange little family. Mayhap he could ask Maman, if she could spare an audience. 'Twas looking less and less of a possibility. Still, if it saved a wedding with the wrong woman…
He let out a sigh. Non, Lady Roche's consuming hatred of Cinderella stifled any union of that sort. And, short of sudden death he foresaw no graceful way from the situation.
Two hours later, Prince pounded his vexation on a fencing post, making great strides in his effort. "What am I to do about this betrothal ball?" Prince asked Arnald. He slammed the hammer on the post sending it deeper into the ground. Each whack sealed the debacle in which he found himself. He could feel moisture glistening off his body, his muscles rippling with each swing. He welcomed the unseasonably brutal sun.
"You could stage your own siege," Arnald suggested. He hammered away at another post several feet over.
"'Tis obvious I cannot marry the chit," Prince went on. The misery of a future with Earline threatened to unman him-a disaster of his own doing.
"Or your own kidnapping."
"She is not so bad, I suppose. And her blinking does seem to have lost some of its velocity." But to marry her when I love another? He couldn't do it. There must be another solution. Ideally, he would have found his mysterious princess by this time, but each hour that passed pushed hope further from reach.
His lips tingled with an image of touching them to Cinderella's hand. The unbidden thought was so unexpected he missed the post altogether with his next propulsion. He stumbled forward like a clumsy oxen. He swiped the sweat from his brow with a forearm.