Runaway Fiancés | ONC 2023 (Complete)

Twelve - Marcos

Back home, Father spends every moment of the next month keeping me in check, reminding me what I have lost him, and having me babysat by a butler.

I may have lost him a great deal, but I saved Catalina. Just like I saved the first girl who Father tried to engage me to.

I'm saving everyone but me.

No matter how much I know it was the right choice, and no matter how much better my life is than theirs would have been, I can't shake it.

I think of nothing but Catalina as my father escorts me around town to meet suitable women, 'to replace the one I threw away.'

It's hilarious that he thinks the lovely lady he found for me to marry is the one that needs replacing. As if anyone could replace Catalina.

I'm tortured by the thought of her. Hoping every day that she is safe. Wondering if she opened the suitcase. Listening for any sign of her whereabouts. Torturing myself non-stop with questions of whether or not she would have actually married me if we'd made it to Valencia.

Would we have made it there without being caught by our fathers? Could I have been married to her before anyone uncovered us?

A whole flurry of what ifs haunt my every waking moment and thoughts of her soft skin and luxurious hair and gentle eyes carry me through the rest of it. I'm hopelessly gone. Past my usefulness for anyone who isn't her.

Every once in a while I think I see her in the crowd and my heart travels into my throat, desperate to see her just one more time and terrified of what it would mean to see her back home.

It isn't fair of me to hope she never weds, and I know she has no hope to unless she returns. But if she comes back here, she will be no more than a pawn in her father's plans. And now that my father has heard of her having run away, he will never in a hundred years agree to our betrothal.

I console myself with the knowledge that I have spared Catalina.

That is the only thing getting me through this parade of balls my father has required me to attend so I can meet marriageable ladies. The women, of course, have done nothing wrong, so tonight as the music fills the room, I'm doing my best to be pleasant to converse with.

But it's impossible. Thoughts of Catalina consume me. There was a brief moment last night when I thought I saw her near the bakery. But it was not her. The dread and relief that raced through me were only matched by the hope. The hope it could be her.

Whichever lady my father sends me next will have to climb a hill so steep that I sincerely hope none of them are interested in trying. It's an impossible situation none of us needed to be in, but my father is the kind of man who gets what he wants.

With little concern for anyone else. Least of all me.

The other gentlemen present are doing a much better job entertaining the ladies. I'm just hanging around the periphery of the ball, waiting for word from my friend.

A butler taps my shoulder, right on cue, handing me a folded note, sealed with the crest of the duke of Valparaiso.

Finally.

I don't read the note, excusing myself from the bustling room and racing through the door to the courtyard. Only then do I break the seal and unfold the note.

"He has arrived." I breathe out, reading his short inscription.

"I'm sorry, sir?" someone says from the shadows.

"I didn't realize there was anyone here. Allow me to extend my apologies." I tip my hat to the stranger and race around the side of the house to a small grove of trees where Ramiro, Duke of Valparaiso, says he's waiting.