Promised to the Swedish Prince by sasha cottman

Promised to the Swedish Prince by sasha cottman

Author:sasha cottman [cottman, sasha]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sasha Cottman
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00


Chapter Sixteen

As King Charles’s official representative, it was Baron von Rehausen’s role to announce the betrothal of His Royal Highness Prince Christian and Countess Erika Jansson. A letter was sent to the Prince Regent at Carlton House. Count Jansson wrote to King Charles and Prince Stefan informing them of this latest development in the trade negotiations.

Later that week, the first of the invitations arrived at Duke street. A newly engaged couple was more interesting to the matrons of London society than two unconnected foreign dignitaries.

While their betrothal might well be a ruse, there was still the matter of the façade which had to be maintained. Erika quickly found herself in the center of a whirlwind. Baroness von Rehausen became the mastermind of countless modiste fittings for new gowns, as well as endless shopping trips. It was nice to have new clothes, but the fact that Christian was funding her new wardrobe left a bitter taste in Erika’s mouth.

I have been sold for the good of my country.

“You cannot just announce your engagement to Prince Christian. You must be seen about town making preparations for the wedding,” the baroness explained.

The fact that there was not going to be any nuptials didn’t seem to matter. All that did was the appearance of a future wedding. The Jansson home soon became full of boxes—items that a prospective bride would be expected to gather. What Erika was going to do with all the linen, fine china, and manchester when Christian officially broke off their betrothal, she had no idea.

Hopefully Pappa will let me take it all back to Sweden when I leave.

Returning home from yet another long morning of shopping with the baroness, an exhausted Erika retreated to her sitting room. She stood at the door, peering over the multitude of boxes.

Will I ever see my comfortable sofa again?

Along one side of the miniscule room were boxes stacked almost to the ceiling. Erika could manage to get to her writing desk if she squeezed between the low walnut coffee table that the Spanish ambassador had sent as an engagement gift, and the oak sideboard that may or may not have come from the United States Minister to Great Britain.

“Thank the lord the baroness is managing the gifts and the thank you cards,” she muttered.

She was grateful for the efforts of Baroness von Rehausen—the envoy’s wife had taken on the role of de-facto mother of the future bride and was doing an outstanding job. If they did succeed in securing the treaty, it would be in no small part down to her efforts.

Her other concern at this very moment was a familiar one. Erika’s knee hurt. If she could have punched Christian once for every time her injury gave her grief, he would never heal from the bruises.

“Erika? Oh good. I was wondering when you would be home.”

Speak of the devil. I wish that for one moment you would stop being so handsome. If you did, my heart might stand a chance of surviving this madness.



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