Rhiane’s modest upbringing was not new to Luke. There was no shortage of reminder coming from the brunette that her life had been difficult, that she had to fight for the survival of her family’s business and at the same time provide for her family. Sometimes he wondered if she told those stories to boast about her past which she secretly believed was more interesting than anybody else in the palace. Poverty was the wall that kept their worlds apart. It was a line that separated the those who did manual labor and those who capitalized on the laborers. Rhiane was the former while Luke the latter. 

Needless to say, Luke had the notion that he had stilled himself with what to expect coming into the house of a self-professed lowly peasant. What he did not foresee was that his expectations of the home she grew up in was nothing compared to the once dark-tinted wood flooring, scratched walls, and curtains that should have retired a few years ago. The rag under his shoes threatened to split in half as he followed her into the house. Furniture appeared to be selected not for aesthetic purposes, but for use. There was no coordination or theme or any semblance of a well-thought interior design. If Rhiane was awe struck by the view in Luke’s apartment, the prince was silenced by what he found inside the house.  

“It seems that I have a lot of work to do.” It was told more to himself than her, when he finally found his voice. There was the monetary reward for the chosen princess elect’s family. The compensation should have been awarded after she was announced the winner. If he was the head of the household, he would have used the money to improve the farm and the house itself. Besides, there would be more where that funds came from. 

He continued after her deeper into the house until they were at a sitting area. The men of the Black household were less hospitable than Sebastian. There were no pretenses of civility at all. Hubert Black lashed his fury at his only daughter, his son backing him up with an unapproving glare. Luke would have stepped in and placed himself between the father and daughter before either of the two resulted to physical attacks, if not for Rhiane’s equally authoritative retort. 

A lioness was how Sebastian described her. Any sane bachelor should run the other way, else he may be stuck with a lifetime of involuntary servitude. Luke, however, stepped closer. “Murder is a serious allegation, Hubert. Did you have any proof that directly associates the crown to the death of your wife and son? Otherwise your statement can be interpreted as one inciting rebellion.” His voice was even and his gaze leveled. Some time after they entered the house, he had taken off his sun glasses. He stared at one man then the other, waiting for the three gentlemen to take their respective seats. 

“Please take your seats.” He cast a sideways glance at his fiancee. “I instructed the guards not to come in no matter what they hear.” She was the one who gave him the advice not to pull ranks or intimidate. Although it was his favorite negotiation strategy, he believed Rhiane knew her family more than anybody in the palace, so he heeded her recommendation.

“We did not travel this far just so we can see you behind bars for propagating false information, nor did I say that to coerce you to civility.” He reached for Rhiane then delicately placed his hand at the small of her back, showing intimacy while not appearing to be overly possessive. “I dare to stand inside your home to formally ask you, Hubert Black, for your daughter’s hand. I would like to ask her to marry me and I’m here to ask for your blessing.”