Epilogue — Caroline

Technically, I’m the reason Prince Miles and Lisabet are together. Technically. Sure, she was never on the original list of candidates that I’d selected for my client, but I was the one who hired her and her quartet to play at the mixer all those years ago.

Was she of noble birth like Lord Greyson wanted? No.

Was she a woman of high social standing? Also, no.

Is Lord Greyson going to keep a closer eye on how I operate? Probably.

If I’m being honest with myself, I’m a little worried that he might pull his financial investment in my matchmaking firm. We did agree, after all, that I’d help his royal connections find royal wives. A day doesn’t go by when I don’t receive a reminder email from Lord Greyson that it’s my job and duty to help keep the royal bloodlines of the world pure.

But screw it.

Whether rich, poor, same-sex, handsome or not: love is love.

That’s why I got into the matchmaking business in the first place. If Lord Greyson has a problem with it, then I’ll just have to work my charm on him and find a reason for him to keep investing. If I can build a matchmaking service from the ground up in this century of dating apps and web profiles, I can do anything I put my mind to.

Will I be on shaky ground with my benefactor? Yes.

Is that going to stop me from helping my clients find true love? Hell no.

Prince Albert’s second birthday party celebration is all anyone can talk about. His first was a private affair, no doubt because his parents wanted to keep him from the public sphere for a little while longer. There’s a huge five-tiered birthday cake stacked up high in one corner of the room, the entire welcoming foyer full of classical music, joyous conversation, party streamers hanging from every possible surface, and the who’s who of party guests.

I just so happened to score myself an invite, a sort of thank you for helping Prince Miles meet his now wife, bringing along my dear friend Ainsley as my plus one.

You never know the kind of networking opportunities that come up at events like this.

“They look really happy together,” she says to me as she regards Princes Miles, Lisabet, and their son together on the far side of the room, closest to the presents. “Please help me find something like that.”

“Believe me, honey, I’m trying.”

“You don’t think I’m a lost cause, do you? I’ve been trying to find my own match for so long.”

“There’s no such thing as a lost cause when it comes to love. All it takes is some patience and my expert matchmaking.”

“You mean meddling?”

“Tomato, tom-ah-to. You said yourself how happy they look. I can get you that, guaranteed.”

“I mean, she wasn’t a candidate of yours, so I don’t think you can actually claim any credit.”

I grimace. “Easy, now. You know how easily my ego gets bruised.”

“I think we both know that’s the furthest thing from the truth.”

“Don’t worry, honey. I’m going to find you a husband or die trying.”

“You make it sound like it’s going to be impossible.”

“Well, in my defense, your criteria’s kind of…difficult”

Ainsley shrugs. “Nothing wrong with having standards.”

I use my fingers to count off all the requirements she’s given me. “Has to be taller than six feet. From a noble family like yourself, not necessarily a prince. Handsome. Good manners. Speaks multiple languages.”

“Simple, right?”

“The only person I know off the top of my head that checks all those boxes is my brother. With the exception that he’s not noble.”

Ainsley rolls her eyes. “Benjamin doesn’t have good manners.”

“Sure, he does. I think he held the door open for you once.”

“The epitome of chivalry, that guy.”

I laugh. “Just give me a little more time, OK? I’ll find the perfect match for you, I promise. You better start counting down the days, because your single life is going to be over very soon.”

“Can I get that in writing?”

I roll my eyes back at her. “Come on. Let’s go grab some punch and then wish the little prince a happy birthday.”

The rest of the party goes off without a hitch. The happy couple and their little bundle of joy are practically glowing, a picture-perfect family in every way. The King and Queen look like they’re enjoying their newfound status as grandparents, spoiling their grandson with all kinds of gifts that he’s still too young to comprehend.

The little prince is growing up to be just as handsome as his father, but it’s clear that he gets his kind temperament from his mother. He’s incredibly well-behaved for a two-year-old. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him put up a fuss or even so much as cried. Prince Albert clings to his mother, a little shy whenever strangers come over to say hello. He’s sweet though, rarely seen without a smile on his little lips.

They look content. Picture perfect. What families around the world should strive for—full of nothing but love and providing nothing but support. Even after the whole debacle they went through, they’ve managed to come out of it stronger and closer than ever.

It’s very rare that I get to see the fruits of my labor. I’m normally in charge of setting my clients up on dates, but the rest is in their hands. I’ve helped countless hundreds of clients, but this is by far my favorite part. Getting to see them get along after they’ve said their I do’s is incredibly rewarding.

I watch Prince Miles and Lisabet for a little while. Lisabet is eight months pregnant, just about ready to pop. They haven’t revealed the gender of their second child, but there are lots of rumors circulating that they’ll be expecting a young princess within a month’s time. Lisabet’s practically glowing, gorgeous black locks pulled back into a loose bun, her skin radiant and clear.

Motherhood suits her very well.

Prince Miles and Lisabet aren’t doing anything particularly special. Just talking. But it’s in the quiet silences, in those knowing looks that I find myself feeling the tiniest bit envious. There’s an ebb and flow, the two of them resonating in perfect harmony. There’s a ton being said even when they don’t speak, an understanding passing between them at the most fundamental of levels.

I used to have what they have. I could have been what they are now. But things unfortunately didn’t turn out that way. It’s not something that I ever advertise. After all, who would want to work with a matchmaker who can’t even find her own match?

I’m not the client.

I need to focus on their needs, not mine.

I take a deep breath and steel myself.

Ainsley is the next client on my docket. She has some pretty high expectations, and I’ve never been one to disappoint. The second I get home to New York I’ll begin my search. I really need this file to go off without a hitch if I’m going to keep Lord Greyson’s confidence.

Over six feet tall, multi-lingual, handsome, from a good noble family.

That can’t be that hard to find.

Right?

Ainsley’s going to be my new project. I’d rather throw all of my energy and time into finding her a suitable match rather than dwelling on the fact that I can’t find my own. The world’s a great big sea of people. There’s definitely going to be someone for her, someone who can make her as happy as Miles and Lisabet are together.

It’s just a matter of casting a strong enough line and reeling the right fish in.

I pull my phone out and start shifting through candidate applications, eager to get a head start. Love never sleeps, and therefore, neither do I. I apply a couple of filters and find a handful of possible suitors Ainsley may enjoy.

Just because I’m at a party doesn’t mean I can’t multitask.

Lady Ainsley, prepare to meet your match.