Earning the Love of a Princess-Chapter 168: Denial

A light tap on the cheek is what woke her.

Camilla opened her heavy eyelids, realising that she must’ve fallen asleep on her bed again. She blinked and tried to focus in front of her. Her bedchamber was in the darkness she’d grown to loathe, making it hard to see much.

There was a glow of warm light coming from one side of the room, backlighting a silhouette near the bed. A tall, lean, familiar silhouette, far too tall to be one of her maids...

"William?" Camilla murmured in disbelief.

He grinned down at her, his teeth a vivid white against his handsome face, as she slowly raised herself up on her elbow to better see him and confirm she wasn’t just hallucinating.

Camilla’s heart soared with joy at seeing him again, alive and smiling, at hearing the mellow tones of his voice. She wanted to leap out of the bed and throw her arms around him. Then just as quickly, she noticed the physical changes in him and immediately began to worry.

He was unshaven and his hair was uncut, the waves brushing his collar. His face was darkly tanned, which made the pale green of eyes more striking, even in the dim light. His face looked so much more angular than she remembered, a clear sign that he’d lost a significant amount of weight.

He was utterly, unfairly beautiful, even if he was too thin and obviously tired. She could feel her tears welling up when he opened his arms to embrace her.

Then, he saw her.

William’s smile froze and then disappeared completely as his eyes drifted downwards from her face. He stared at her bulging belly, in complete shock. Then slowly, slowly, he looked up at her again as if he no longer recognised her.

Camilla saw the blank bewilderment on his face give way to realisation, then horror.

The realisation hit her like an arrow in the chest. He didn’t know about the baby. He hadn’t received any of her letters.

Oh no, Camilla thought as panic bubbled up inside her. He wasn’t supposed to find out like this! And when he found out, he wasn’t supposed to look so incredulous and so...crushed.

William gaped at her as if she’d not just stabbed him in the back, but then gone and twisted the knife. His cheeks flushed and his pale eyes narrowed at her in accusation.

"Is it mine?"

No other three words could’ve cut into her soul more deeply. When Camilla stretched her arm out towards him, she saw William flinch and step away from her, as if he now couldn’t even bear her touch.

The man who had wrapped her in his embrace so many times and vowed to love her, only her, for the rest of his life now looked at her as if she were some kind of monster.

Camilla tried to plead with him, begged him to believe her when she said that having a child wouldn’t change things between them.

He didn’t listen. He wouldn’t listen. He simply watched her cry and made no effort to console her. Her heartbreak clearly didn’t mean a thing to him.

Then, finally, William told her to choose - him or their baby. An impossible choice.

As he stalked out the door and shut the door behind him, Camilla felt the strength leave her trembling legs. She sat back down on the bed before she ended up collapsing on the floor, and sobbed. Her frame shook with the effort and she could barely breathe as she replayed their conversation in her mind.

You will love him or her more than me.

Did William truly think her love was so limited that only one person could ever have it at once? Or did he simply just want to keep it all to himself?

As if sensing her anguish, the baby began to kick hard, twisting painfully inside her.

That was how her ladies-in-waiting found her a few moments later. Lying on her side, curled over her belly and sobbing uncontrollably, like a child in the nursery.

Camilla was vaguely aware of their touch as they begged her to take deep breaths and think of her baby’s health. Katerine stroked her hands, near tears herself. Meg gently urged her to lie back as she placed a cold, damp cloth on her forehead.

Camilla could barely speak, or even see much of them through her puffy eyes. She just lay there limply, pitifully hiccuping as her sobs finally quietened.

Katerine ducked out of the room briefly to have a word with someone in the presence chamber. A short while later, Elizabeth hurried into the room with a vial of pale yellow liquid. She poured the contents into a small cup and gently helped Camilla sip from it.

"Tession says this will calm your nerves and help you rest, my lady. You mustn’t distress yourself." Elizabeth whispered soothingly. "And try not to get too worked up about your husband’s reaction. He just needs a little time to accept things. Men are often scared of great change, they just can’t admit it at first."

"Did Archibald react like this when you told him, Bess?" Camilla whispered, knowing full well that he hadn’t.

Elizabeth stared back at her bleakly, then helped Camilla lie back against the pillows. "Just give him a day or two. He’ll come around, given how much he loves you."

Camilla closed her swollen eyes, feeling the baby continue to kick and roll. She had no strength to argue back and tell Elizabeth there had been no love left in William’s gaze. Only anger and betrayal.

As the tonic took effect and drowsiness started taking over, Camilla prayed she’d never have to wake up and see such bitterness in her husband’s eyes again.

- - -

William tiptoed into the presence chamber late that night and was relieved to find it empty, save for the sleeping cat. He had no desire to suffer through the nosy scrutiny of maids or worse, the accusations from his wife’s ladies.

He knew that he had well and truly sinned in their eyes. The look on Lady Meg’s face earlier in the day when he’d bolted out of the presence chamber after confronting Camilla, had been nothing short of murderous.

Well, so what? William didn’t care if they thought he was in the wrong. He couldn’t deny how he felt, nor did he owe them an explanation.

He didn’t owe anyone a goddamn explanation about what went on in his marriage.

William was simply there to retrieve some of his clothes and other possessions. There was no way he could sleep in their shared bedchamber tonight. He needed to be as far away from his wife as possible.

It was well past midnight and his head was pounding after too much wine and a long, riotous dinner in the banquet hall. William had been forced to sit there amongst a giddy, celebrating court and pretend that everything was well with him.

Even worse, Queen Celia, tipsy with wine herself, had raised her goblet to him and announced to the entire hall that William was to be a father in a few weeks. He’d been almost sick from the resulting panic but had forced himself to smile tightly and endure while the court toasted him, the king grinned and his cousins had all thumped him on the back in hearty congratulations.

Would the fucking nightmare never end?

William now crept through the silent bedchamber and into their shared dressing room. He grabbed a few things for his use once the sun rose, barely able to see what he was grabbing in the dark.

Then again, what did it matter?

William quietly walked through the bedchamber and to the door. He intended to just leave without a backward glance. That would’ve been the smartest course of action.

Of course, it could never be that simple, could it? Like a man who picked at a healing wound just to relive the pain, something made him turn around and look towards the bed. He stepped ever closer and looked down.

A lump formed in William’s throat when he saw Camilla asleep, her breathing even and her hands curled into loose fists near her face like a little girl. Even in the weak light cast from the fireplace, he could see eyes were red rimmed and her long lashes were still wet.

He’d caused his wife to cry herself to sleep.

Pressing his lips together, William told himself he was in the right. Did she truly think that a man as flawed and damaged as him had any business being a father? That he could simply shake off years of childhood loneliness and rejection, and rejoice in raising a child to be as unhappy as he’d been?

William spun around and walked towards the bedchamber door. He was in the right, he kept repeating in his mind as he walked away.

But if that were true, why did he feel so terrible?