Her father was still talking, and looking straight at her, Sophia realised, as he announced, ‘And Alessandro’s engagement is only the first Santina engagement we are to celebrate. I am delighted to be able to tell you all that my youngest daughter Sophia’s fiancé is shortly to arrive in the kingdom.’
The shock of what her father had said descended on Sophia like an icy wall, numbing her, reducing her to dumb, frozen shock, unable to speak or move as she was jostled by the throng of press photographers who had all been focusing on her brother and Allegra but who were now all around her, instead, their cameras flashing.
As swiftly as it had engulfed her, the numbness receded, leaving her with the reality of the full horror of her situation. Inside she felt as though she was shaking from head to foot, as she was gripped by a rising tide of nausea and furious helpless despair. This couldn’t be happening. Her father couldn’t have trapped her into an engagement without giving her any warning. But he had, and now she had no way of arguing him out of his plans. She felt so weak and helpless, so lost and alone. Instinctively she looked towards Ash but there were too many photographers in the way. Her father, on the other hand, she could see, and the cold warning look in his eyes told her what he expected of her.
Reporters and photographers surrounded her, pushing mikes and lenses in her face as they demanded a response to her father’s announcement.
‘I …’
‘My daughter is delighted to be engaged,’
the king answered for her. ‘Aren’t you, Sophia?’
Shock and a lifetime of always giving in to her father’s will couldn’t be ignored or overcome no matter how much she wanted to do so. As though someone else was speaking the words Sophia bowed her head submissively and responded, ‘Yes.’
From the queen’s side Ash watched and listened to what was happening with a mixture of feelings, the least wanted of which was the sudden savage stab of antagonism he had felt towards the unknown prince to whom Sophia was now officially engaged.
‘Such a relief that Sophia has finally seen sense and realised that her father knows what’s best,’ Queen Zoe murmured to Ash. ‘All this gossip about her in the press has made the king very angry. Marriage will do her good. The king believes that the prince shares his traditional values and beliefs on the role of a royal consort and royal children, and will soon have Sophia realising where her duty lies.’
‘Sophia …’ Sophia felt a small tug on her arm, and she turned from the throng of reporters to see the concerned face of her sister Carlotta.
‘I can’t believe what Father has done. He knows I don’t want to be engaged. I can’t stay here, Carlotta,’ she told her sister. ‘Not now. I’m going to my room.’
By the time she reached the relative sanctuary of her room Sophia’s thoughts were in such turmoil that she was trembling from head to foot as though the force of them couldn’t be contained within her body. How foolish and naive she had been to think that her father would allow her the freedom of trying to change his mind. That had obviously never been an option. Her father must have known all along that he intended to announce her engagement without her real consent. Now her plan to parade Ash in front of her father, in the hope that the king could be deceived into thinking that there could be a match between her and Ash, seemed so juvenile and ridiculous—the pointless hope of someone who didn’t recognise or understand reality. Angry, helpless, frustrated tears blurred her vision. All the things she had done to avoid marriage until she found the right man had been a complete waste of time. She might as well have remained here in her room at the palace as a good and dutiful daughter who never did anything to challenge the status quo.
How was she going to endure what would now be her future? She couldn’t, she wouldn’t, Sophia decided on the wave of panic and pain that welled up inside her, and she certainly wasn’t going to stay here and let her father marry her off. She’d run away and leave the island, cut herself off from her family, before she’d allow herself to be forced into this marriage. Her heart was hammering even faster at the enormity of what she was thinking.
Without allowing herself to think through what she was doing she ran to her wardrobe and started pulling clothes out of it and putting them into a case—something that normally one of the maids would do for her—tears running down her face whilst she did so.
Panting and out of breath she froze when her phone beeped with a text. It was from Carlotta asking if she was OK. About to reply to it, Sophia checked. She didn’t want to involve her sister in what she was going to do.
Now all she had to do was get changed and go to the airport. Then within a few hours she would be on her way to London where she had school friends who she hoped would offer her a temporary sanctuary from her father and from her unwanted marriage.
They would help her, wouldn’t they? She did have friends. Did she? Who? Those good-time, fun-loving crowds whose lives consisted of moving from party to party?
She’d make new friends. Get herself a job. Anything, just as long as she didn’t have to marry the man her father had chosen for her.
She pulled a dress out of her wardrobe and quickly put it on, grabbing a jacket to go over it, mentally checking through what she would need.
Her passport, she had that; some money, she had that. Of course, the national airline would let her board any plane she chose, and with luck it would be morning before anyone realised she had gone, by which time it would be too late for her father to stop her from leaving. By morning she would be on her way to start her new life. A life where she would be in control, and no one else.
‘The last flight’s gone?’
‘Yes, Your Highness. Several hours ago. We had to cancel most of our flights because of the number of private jets the airport has had to accommodate. The first flight to London will be tomorrow morning. I think several journalists are booked on to it.’
Sophia gave a small shudder at the thought of travelling with a curious press pack.
She was well and truly trapped on the island, just as she was going to be trapped in her unwanted marriage.
‘Maybe one of the party guests could offer you a seat?’ the young girl manning the enquiries desk suggested with a smile.
‘No. I don’t think …’ Sophia began, only to stop as she remembered Ash telling her that he was going to have to leave the party before it ended because he needed to get back to India. Her heart thumping, she asked the girl as casually as she could, ‘Do you happen to know if the Maharaja of Nailpur’s plane has left yet?’
The girl consulted a list out of Sophia’s view and then told her, ‘It’s scheduled for take-off in twenty minutes, Your Highness. His plane is waiting at the royal departure gate right now, but the maharaja is flying back to Mumbai and not London.’
Nodding her head Sophia turned away and reached for her suitcase. Ash would help her now, surely? He knew how she felt. He had seen how unfair her father was being. There was no one else she could turn to. She wasn’t going to ask much of him, just a lift in his plane to Mumbai, that was all. From there she could get a flight to London. Despite the glamorous lifestyle she lived, Sophia was very good with her allowance and did have some savings. Enough certainly to pay for a flight to London from Mumbai, and once there … Once there she would worry then about what she would do. Right now she needed to get on Ash’s plane and make sure that he allowed her to leave the island with him.
If the security guards on duty at the doors to the private royal departure and arrivals gate were surprised to see her on her own and wheeling her own suitcase they didn’t show it, bowing briefly to her as she walked past them. Their presence and the bow they had given her brought home to her the reality of what she was about to do and how her family