Читать книгу In the Royal's Bed - Marion Lennox - Страница 11

CHAPTER FOUR

WAS there ever any doubt she’d go with him? Whether Rafael had a partner or not was immaterial. Matty belonged in Alp de Ciel. Matty was her son.

She was going.

So over the next few days Kelly packed her gear, said goodbye to the place that had protected her for the last five years and prepared to be a princess again.

She still was the Princess Kellyn, she thought ruefully. Kass had never bothered with divorce. In truth, it had suited Kass to remain married. He had the heir he needed so what purpose marriage? He’d been able to play around with as many women as he’d wanted.

While Kelly hadn’t worn a wedding ring for five years, Kass had worn his to the end. He’d married her as a snub to his father. His continuing marriage had been a snub to any eligible woman in the Principality who might have been presumptuous enough to think of joining him on the throne.

So, regardless of Kass’s motives, Kelly was now returning as the widow of the old Crown Prince and the mother of the new one. Somehow she had to make a life for herself in a country she loathed. She had no idea how she was going to do it, but she had no choice.

At least her departure was managed without media hype. Whatever the staff of the park knew of her past or of her intentions now, they were saying nothing to the outside world, giving her a few blessed days to come to terms with what she must do.

Rafael couldn’t come near them. He rang when he could but the media attention meant that he had to stay well away. So Kelly had a few short days to think about what life might have been if Matty wasn’t a prince.

It would have been magic.

For Matty was absorbed into the life of the park as seamlessly as if he’d been born there. For the first twenty-four hours he was homesick for Rafael, but the park kids—the children of the staff here—were friendly and eager to show him everything. There were things going on everywhere and by the time they were ready to leave he was simply part of the park pack.

She so wished he could stay like this. He was mischievous, inquisitive, alert and interested. Once he was reassured that Rafael hadn’t deserted him, that there was a definite end to his stay, he was totally relaxed, and Kelly thought, If only he could stay, if only…

But it was impossible. No one had yet twigged that the Crown Prince was missing from Alp de Ciel. As soon as they did, it’d be only a matter of days before he was found and he’d never be let alone again.

So they had to go. She felt sick at the thought and even Matty was crestfallen on Tuesday as they prepared to leave.

‘Uncle Rafael will cheer us up,’ Matty said, holding her hand as they walked together for the last time from her cottage down to the park entrance. ‘Don’t be sad, Mama. He’ll make you happy again.’

Terrific. Although Kelly was fighting really hard to blink back tears, she had no desire to have Rafael to buoy her spirits. In truth, the fact that she’d be travelling with Rafael was a downside—he made her feel disconcerted and vulnerable.

And she’d miss this place so much… She was so close to breaking it was all she could do to walk those last few steps from the park gates to the waiting limousine. To where Rafael was waiting, holding the door wide for her.

He was watching her with sympathy, she thought as she dashed her hand across her eyes with a fierce anger that was surely irrational. The last thing she needed was sympathy, but it shouldn’t make her angry.

‘Hey,’ he said as Matty reached him. He stooped down and hugged Matty hard and that had Kelly blinking all over again. Then he straightened and looked at Kelly. He was dressed formally—not in his dumb dress uniform but in a smart grey lounge suit. ‘Are you okay?’ he asked softly.

‘I’m fine.’ She gulped a couple of times and turned to help Pete, who was putting her luggage into the trunk. ‘Where’s… where’s your retinue?’

‘Retinue?’

‘Reporters. Cameramen.’

‘Thankfully my presence doesn’t warrant the type of paparazzi outriders Princess Di was burdened with,’ he said, smiling. ‘I’d imagine there’ll be photographers at the airport but that’s okay—we’ll be in the door, on the plane and out of here before they realize we have Matty.’ He hesitated as she hugged Pete goodbye. ‘Kelly, you’re sure you’re okay?’

‘I’m okay,’ she said, feeling sick. She dived past him into the car and slid across the vast leather interior of the limousine until she was as far away from his side as it was possible to be. Matty was on the opposite seat, but as Rafael climbed in after her he sidled across to Rafael and sat hard against him.

Rafael tugged him close, which had Kelly unsettled all over again. Her son was being hugged by Rafael. Whatever decisions she’d made about the man, she still couldn’t entirely trust him. He was too damned good-looking. He was a prince. He was a de Boutaine!

She crossed her arms and didn’t say anything. He was hugging her son. Her son! How could she catch up on five long years?

‘So you’ve decided to go casual,’ he said politely as the chauffeur drove the big car out on to the road.

‘What…what do you mean?’

‘It’s the first time I’ve seen you in civvies.’

‘You mean not in historical dress.’

‘Mmm.’

‘Is something wrong with what I’m wearing?’

‘You’ll be landing in Alp de Ciel like that?’ he asked gently. ‘Or do you intend to keep something separate from your luggage to change into?’

‘Why should I?’

‘I would have thought…’

‘Thought what?’

‘Maybe a little more formality?’

‘I’m fine like I am,’ she said, keeping her arms folded defensively across her breasts and glaring straight ahead.

In truth she was making a statement. She’d stared at her wardrobe last night for almost an hour before she’d decided what to wear.

For the last four years Kelly had worn almost exclusively historical costumes. However, there had been times when she’d been out doing research, when she had given presentations about the park, when she had attended awards dinners, when she’d had to wear normal clothes. Then she’d worn a standard business suit. Sensible.

Once upon a time she’d loved clothes. She’d ached for them. When she was a child her parents had frowned on what they called frivolity. She’d been repressed to the point of cruelty, forced to wear her school uniform when it had been entirely inappropriate, given a meagre allowance that had been inadequate to buy anything but the basic necessities.

She remembered the dress she’d bought with her first pay cheque. It was a sliver of scarlet, an almost indecently short crimson cocktail dress. She’d loved it.

She’d worn it to dinner the first night she’d met Kass.

Yeah, well, so much for fancy clothes. Like horses, clothes were something she didn’t let herself think about. Now she was wearing ancient jeans, an oversized, shapeless sweater that reached almost to her knees and her leather work boots. She’d tugged her hair into a knot with an elastic band. She was wearing no make-up.

Yes, it was a statement and she didn’t care who heard it.

‘Mama packed most of her clothes into boxes and sent them to storage,’ Matty offered from the other seat.

Rafael frowned. ‘I told you to pack them up for shipping.’

‘It’s no use shipping historical costumes overseas,’ Kelly said. ‘I’m bringing what I need.’

‘So did you send anything to the shipping company I told you about?’

‘No.’

‘So let me see,’ Rafael said faintly. ‘You’re moving to Alp de Ciel permanently. And you’ve got…one suitcase?’

‘It’s summer there right now. If it’s cold later on I may have to buy a couple of things. I assume there are still shops.’

‘There are shops,’ he said, eyeing her sweater with a certain amount of trepidation. ‘But there’ll be media meeting us off the plane. Do you have…a frock or something?’

‘A frock,’ she said, and her lips twitched at his obvious discomfort. ‘I don’t believe I do have a frock.’

‘You know what I mean. Something respectable.’

‘This is respectable.’

‘For bumming round the stables maybe. Not for meeting your people.’

‘Whose people?’

‘You’re a princess.’

‘In name only,’ she retorted. ‘I thought we agreed. You’re the centre of media attention. You wear your braid and your dress sword and I’ll wear my sweater and jeans.’

‘It’s not very pretty,’ Matty said, disapproving.

‘I don’t need to be pretty.’

‘No, but you are,’ Matty said, sounding upset. ‘And you’re my mama.’

Oh, great. She hadn’t thought this one through. It was all very well planning to be plain Jane, speaking when spoken to, staying in the background, keeping herself small.

But Matty was obviously disappointed.

‘You can’t do that to the kid,’ Rafael said and she swallowed her vague guilt and thought, what was she asking? That Matty cope with a mama who didn’t dress like…like Rafael’s partner.

‘You’re saying my wearing jeans might damage Matty for life?’

‘No, I…’

‘Good then. I’m fine,’ she muttered. ‘This is me. This is who I am. Matty, I’m sorry if you don’t like it but I don’t want to be a princess. I’m your mama and I hope you like me anyway but I’m not going to wear a tiara. Not for anything.’

‘How about a frock?’ Rafael growled and she glowered.

‘Nope. Matty, you and your Uncle Rafael are royalty,’ she said bluntly. ‘I get to stay in the background and watch.’

‘You’ll watch?’ Rafael demanded, incredulous.

‘Yes.’

‘You don’t think you might get bored?’ Rafael said.

‘No.’

‘What will you do, then?’ Matty asked while Rafael looked on with bemusement. He seemed to be having trouble figuring her out, which was fine as she was having trouble figuring him out. All she knew about him was that, in his own way, he was as dangerous to her peace of mind as Kass had been. He was a de Boutaine and he’d kissed her. That was enough for her to stay in sackcloth and ashes every time she was near him for the next hundred years. To do anything else…that was the crazy route.

‘I’ve thought about it,’ she said seriously, having in fact done little over the last three days but think about how she could sustain the life they were asking her to lead. ‘I’m intending to write books.’

‘Books,’ Rafael said blankly.

‘That’s the plan,’ she said happily. ‘Matty, I’m a historian and your castle is steeped in history. I can find myself a nice quiet attic and research to my heart’s content. But I’ll be there for you whenever you need me, Matty—if you need me. Otherwise, I’ll be perfectly happy writing my book.’

‘You can’t,’ Rafael said blankly.

‘Why not?’

‘I was hoping…’

‘Don’t hope,’ she said bluntly. ‘Alp de Ciel is your principality, not mine. Stop hoping for anything from me, other than loving Matty. For that’s all I’m going to do.’

* * *

They let her be.

They travelled first class on the aircraft—of course—which meant the seats were in pairs, cocoons that turned into beds. Rafael and Matty shared one pair. A Japanese businessman shared Kelly’s. She was courteously given the window seat, which meant that she was buffered from the pair across the aisle.

She hardly talked to them.

Rafael and Matty slept. She stared straight ahead, feeling sick.

Finally they landed. There were photographers, reporters, politicians, all waiting. They were stunned to see Matty.

Kelly hung back, trying to blend in as part of the luggage. She was afraid that Rafael would haul her forward and introduce her but he did no such thing. At the last minute, as the limousine was about to leave, he motioned for her to join them and she slid into the car before the photographers could register who she might be.

Now she was doing the defensive bit again, huddled in the far corner of the car, staring out at the countryside.

Remembering how she’d fallen in love with this country the first time she’d seen it.

She’d forgotten how breathtaking it was.

She’d forgotten how she’d fallen in love.

The four Alp countries had been severed from their larger neighbours centuries ago to form principalities for warring brothers, and each one of them was a magical place in its own right.

Alp de Ciel…Alps towering to the skies.

Even though it was late spring there was still snow on the highest peaks. The lowlands stretching from the coast to the mountains consisted of magnificent undulating pastures, rich and fertile. There were quaint villages, houses hewn from the local rock hugging the coastline, some of the houses seemingly carved from the cliffs themselves. There were harbours with fishing fleets that looked straight off picture postcards. Too small to involve itself in the world wars, too insignificant to be fought over, Alp de Ciel had remained almost unchanged for centuries.

The first time Kelly had seen it she’d been speechless with delight and it affected her just as deeply now. She stared out of the car window as they left the port city, then followed the river road to the foothills of the mountains, through Zunderfied, the small village which had served the castle for generations and then further to where the palace of Alp de Ciel lay in all its glory.

It was no wonder she’d fallen for Kass, an older and wiser Kelly thought sadly. This place breathed romance. She’d been lonely and awed and in love with this country—Kass must have found her more than ripe for the picking.

She couldn’t let herself be swayed by beauty this time. Nor by words.

Nor by a de Boutaine…

‘It’s not all as beautiful as it looks,’ Rafael told her as she sat with her nose squashed against the window, and she cast him a look that was almost scared.

‘It is beautiful.’

‘Surface gorgeous. You know how Kass financed his latest bout of gambling debts? He allowed logging almost to the edge of Zunderfied. The land here gets saturated with the snow melts. We’ve had two minor landslips there with spring already. That’s just one problem among hundreds.’

She turned and gazed upward and saw the scarred hillside, the jarring ugliness of the leavings from clear felling. But…to allow herself to worry about the countryside…the people…

She wasn’t royal. She wasn’t!

She mustn’t care.

‘You love it,’ Rafael said softly as the car slowed and turned into the palace grounds.

‘Not…not any more.’

‘There’s no need to be defensive,’ he said. ‘There’s no one who wants you to do anything you don’t want. I dare say the villagers can worry about their landslips very well themselves without you worrying on their behalf.’ He grimaced. ‘If you want to cloister yourself in your attic in your remarkable sweater then your wish will be respected.’

‘Does that mean Mama is allowed to wear that sweater?’ Matty demanded, astounded.

‘It’s her business.’

‘Ellen will say it’s not royal.’

‘Ellen will say no such thing,’ Rafael said firmly. ‘Your mother is here as her own person. She can do exactly as she pleases.’

Damn, why was she blinking again? She glanced out of the back window of the car and saw the tiny township of Zunderfied perched below a swathe of freshly cleared mountainside. She’d boarded there when she’d first come here and thought it was delightful—a tiny alpine village that was steeped in history.

But the logging… How could Kass have agreed to such a thing? Even from here it seemed the little town was in peril. She wanted to get out of the car and start replanting now.

No! NMP, she told herself fiercely.

Not My Problem.

There was no hiding in the background when they arrived at the palace. She was expected.

The first time she’d arrived here it had been with the archaeological dig team. They’d worked out of sight of the main castle, sifting through the remains of ancient castle sites. So the only time she’d been in this forecourt had been the time she’d arrived with Kass.

She’d been eight months pregnant. Her pregnancy had been dreadful. She’d been sick all the time, and Kass had hardly been near.

But then his father was dead and he was triumphant. He’d hauled her home, almost as a trophy.

‘This is my wife,’ he’d said, tugging her out of the limousine and not caring that she almost fell. ‘She’s carrying my heir. A son. This is now my country. My country.’

The domestic staff had all been there to greet him—they’d lined up on either side of the castle entrance. She remembered the silence. The silent, cold disapproval.

Kass had swept inside, leaving her to follow.

‘Take care of her,’ he’d snapped to a couple of the domestic staff. ‘She’s to have everything she needs to deliver a perfect child.’

It had stayed with her. The dismay in the eyes of everyone around her. The contempt. Even…pity?

But now…

This was very, very different.

Yes, the staff were assembled. Not as many. It was a pared down staff, maybe only a quarter as big.

Every one of the staff was smiling.

‘Ellen,’ Matty yelled, launching himself out of the car and heading straight for a buxom woman at the end of the line. Then, as she scooped him into her arms and hugged, he turned from her shoulder and whooped as he saw more friends, ‘Marguerite. Aunt Laura.’

They were all beaming at her little son. Rafael was smiling too. A man she remembered…Crater—the palace Secretary of State, more stooped than she remembered and his hair more silver—was stepping forward to grasp Rafael’s hand.

‘It’s good to have you back, sir.’

‘It’s good to be back,’ Rafael said. He turned to hug a woman near him—a lady around the same age as Crater. She was wearing a flowing skirt, a cardigan that reached almost to her knees and a paint-spattered pinafore over everything. Her abundance of silver hair was tied up in a knot and there was paint there too. She was smiling with everyone else but sniffing into a paint-smudged handkerchief.

‘Mama, don’t you dare cry.’ He picked her up and whirled her round as he might have whirled a child. ‘I’ve been away only a week. Kelly will think you’re soppy.’

‘Kelly,’ the lady whispered and Rafael set her down and turned her to face Kelly.

‘Mama, this is Kelly. Everyone, this is our own Princess Kellyn Marie de Boutaine. She’s been sorely wronged but she’s finally consented to take her place where she ought to be. It gives me huge pleasure to tell you all that our Kelly has finally come home.’

And for a moment—for just a moment—Kelly wished she looked more like a princess. The last thing she wanted was to be thought of as a poor relation. She hadn’t thought it through…

But she couldn’t think it for long for Laura gave her no chance. With a cry of delight, Laura abandoned Rafael and took swift steps to where she was standing. Kelly could hardly be self-conscious of her clothes in the face of layers of paint. There was even a daub of purple on Laura’s left eyebrow.

And there was no disguising the sincerity of her welcome. Smiling warmly, Laura took her by both hands and held her at arm’s length, surveying her from head to toe. But Kelly thought she wasn’t seeing the clothes. She was looking deeper.

‘So you’ve come home,’ Laura whispered. ‘Oh, my dear, we are so sorry. This country’s done you such a wrong. I don’t know how you can ever forgive us, but from now on…we’re overjoyed to have you here. Welcome home, Kelly, dear.’

She turned and held Kelly’s hand high in hers.

‘Our Matty has his mother home,’ she said to the assemblage. ‘And we have our princess. Thank you, Rafael, for bringing our Kellyn home.’

But of course she wasn’t ‘our Kellyn’. She’d never been part of this royal family and she had no intention of being slotted neatly into an allocated space now.

The next few hours passed in a haze of shock and confusion and jet lag. Somehow, however, she managed to keep her wits about her enough to insist on her independence from the first.

With the first greetings over, with Matty scampering off to greet his friends, to make sure nothing had changed in his absence and to distribute the myriad of souvenir gifts he’d stocked up on, Laura and Rafael showed her to her rooms. To her horror, she found she was expected to sleep in the same ghastly, opulent suite she’d been confined to while she’d waited for Matty to be born. It had been closed when she left and hadn’t been used since. She glanced through to the bathroom and the dressing gown she’d worn when she was pregnant was folded neatly on a side table. Cleaned and pressed. Waiting for her to return?

She backed out in horror. No and no and no.

Rafael raised his eyebrows in bemusement. ‘These are the best we have,’ he said. ‘Rooms fit for a royal bride. Kass never felt any desire to put anyone else in them.’

‘Then get yourself a royal bride to put in them,’ she said crisply, staring round at the gilt and chandeliers and rich crimson velvet with loathing. ‘I think I get to be described as the royal relic from now on. I don’t want anything to do with this stuff.’

‘You don’t look like a relic.’

‘If she doesn’t want gilt she doesn’t have gilt,’ Laura said stoutly. ‘There’s not a scrap of gilt in the dower house. Not that I’m offering to share. It’s a wee bit cosy.’

‘My mother paints,’ Rafael said unnecessarily, smiling at his mother in affection. ‘The dower house has five bedrooms. Or it did have five bedrooms. Now it has five studios, one of which has my mother’s bed crammed in the corner.’ He hesitated, looking at Kelly’s face and registering her real distress. ‘Meanwhile this lady wants an attic,’ Rafael said softly. ‘Mama, which are our most respectable attics?’

The staff seemed flummoxed but she was then given a guided tour of the place.

Matty had almost a wing to himself—the palace nurseries. Right above was an attic wing—two rooms with turret windows, facing south, with sunlight streaming in through the ancient, hand-blown glass.

The furnishings were faded. ‘I think someone’s maiden aunt might have used these rooms a long time ago,’ Laura said, looking about her at the doilies and antimacassars and overstuffed armchairs. And the tiny narrow bed.

‘It’s fine,’ Kelly said.

‘Only if we can get you a new bed,’ Rafael growled, so she graciously accepted, asked for a desk and a decent reading light and prepared to start being a recluse.

It didn’t quite work straight off. For a start she needed to read Matty his bedtime story. ‘For surely that’s your role now,’ Laura said gently.

It was, and she loved that Laura and Rafael—and Marguerite and Ellen and every one of the palace staff—seemed determined to let her be Matty’s mother in every sense of the word.

So she read to Matty in a big armchair in front of the nursery fire. Halfway through the story he sidled on to her knee and promptly fell asleep in her arms. The sensation was indescribable. It almost made her forget her vow to be a recluse.

So she’d be a recluse who did the odd cuddle on the side.

Then supper was ready. ‘We waited for you,’ Ellen told her and Kelly thought tomorrow she’d figure how she could use the kitchen and make herself toasted sandwiches because that was all she felt like, but tonight she was stuck.

She remembered the grand dining room where she’d been served in the past with pomp and rigid silence. She followed Ellen downstairs with a sinking heart but, instead of being ushered into the grand salon she remembered, Ellen led the way through less formal corridors, down worn stone steps and into…a kitchen. A vast kitchen with a range that took half a wall, with a table big enough to feed a football team, ancient wood, worn with scrubbing.

Laura was sitting at the table buttering bread. Rafael was at the range cooking…toasted sandwiches?

‘I wanted to make you dinner myself tonight,’ Laura said, smiling at her obvious discomposure. ‘I have a much less grand kitchen. But we thought Matty would be asleep here and you might want to stick close.’

‘Close?’ she queried faintly, thinking of the corridors she’d just navigated, and Rafael flipped the sandwich he was toasting and grinned.

‘Close in castle terms. Less than half a day’s march. Can we interest you in a toasted cheese sandwich?’

‘What happened to silver service?’ she said faintly and Laura winced.

‘Don’t say you liked it.’

‘No, I…’

‘The minute Kass died we locked up the dining room. Matty hates it, you see,’ she explained. ‘It was the only time Matty ever saw his father. When Kass was in the palace, at the end of every meal he’d send for Matty and grill him on his lessons. Matty used to shake every time he passed the dining room. So we thought we wouldn’t use it.’

‘My mother’s pretty definite,’ Rafael said. ‘But, of course, it’s your call now. If you want to use the dining room…’

‘It’s not my call. It’s you who’s Prince Regent.’

‘If it’s up to me, I like it just fine where I am,’ he said. ‘Actually, no. I like it better in Manhattan but, since I’ve been blackmailed…’

‘You’ve been no such thing,’ Laura retorted. ‘Kelly, I refuse to let you feel guilty. Rafael’s known from the moment Kass died that his responsibility was here.’

‘You want him to stay?’

‘No,’ Laura said bluntly. ‘Well, no, in terms of no, I don’t want him to have to assume the mantle of royalty. But in terms of having someone round who can cook great toasted sandwiches…’ She smiled, a smile that matched her son’s to a T as he flipped a sandwich on to her plate. ‘I taught him his culinary skills,’ she said proudly. ‘It’s my greatest feat. He’ll make some woman very happy some day. He’ll keep her in toasted sandwiches for ever.’

‘Does Anna like toasted sandwiches?’ Kelly asked before she could stop herself and the two identical grins faded.

‘Probably not,’ Laura said cautiously.

‘You mean definitely not,’ Rafael retorted.

‘Have you broken the news to Anna that you’re relocating here permanently?’ his mother asked.

‘Nope.’

‘Coward.’

‘I am a coward,’ he admitted and he turned his attention back to his pan. ‘You know Anna. You’d be a coward too. Kelly, two sandwiches or more?’

It was a lovely, laughing informal meal, about as different from what she remembered of castle life as it was possible to be. She ate three rounds of toasted cheese sandwiches and a vast bowl of sun-ripened strawberries picked only hours ago from the palace gardens. Then Rafael made coffee using a mysterious Turkish coffee-maker that he swore made coffee that was a legend in its own time.

It was pretty good coffee. It was pretty good company. Kelly said little, content to listen to Laura and her son catch up on castle gossip, on trivial domestic stuff, on a life she was starting to feel maybe wouldn’t be as bad as she’d thought it would be.

‘I need to go,’ Laura said reluctantly after the coffee was finished and the plates were cleared into the sink. ‘Rafael has a deputation to meet at eight and I don’t want to be around when they come.’

‘A deputation?’

‘Just a welcome home committee,’ Rafael said and grimaced. ‘The mayor and the town’s dignitaries welcoming me home. Or, more probably, to make sure I know the deforestation issue is urgent. Plus about a thousand other grievances. They wanted to come in the morning but my gear’s coming so they’ve agreed to come tonight.’ He hesitated. ‘They won’t meet with Crater. They see him as part of the old establishment. Which leaves me. I wouldn’t mind some support.’

‘You’re a big boy,’ Laura said, but she suddenly sounded strained. ‘You can meet them yourself.’

‘Should we wash up?’ Kelly asked a bit too fast, not wanting to think about anyone needing support. A royal welcome… It was all very well eating toasted sandwiches but no one in this family would forget for long that they were royal. Including her?

And Rafael was shrugging. Moving on. He had no choice—he might as well move forward with good humour.

‘If you think I’m meeting dignitaries plus doing the washing-up you have rocks in your head,’ he retorted and managed a grin. ‘There has to be some advantage of being royal. We can leave the washing-up to the staff.’

‘I’m a failure as a mother,’ Laura mourned.

‘If you’re starting to count my shortcomings then we’ll walk you home,’ Rafael told her, smiling across at Kelly. ‘That is if you feel like a walk before bed. If you’re like me, you’ll still be thinking it’s morning. My entire body clock is upside down.’

Hers, too. She’d slept in the plane. She felt wide awake.

She felt…

‘I can walk myself home,’ Laura said briskly. ‘It’s just past the gatehouse.’

‘There are bogeymen out there,’ Rafael said. ‘The ghosts of a thousand royals.’

‘And your father’s one of them,’ Laura retorted. ‘You think any bogeyman would get me when your father’s around to protect me?’ She smiled fondly up at her son and caught his hand, letting him swing her to her feet. ‘Rafael’s father died here when Rafael was fifteen,’ she told Kelly. ‘It’s why I’ve never wanted to leave. It still feels as if he’s here.’

‘You’re just a romantic,’ her son said.

‘And you’re not?’

‘Absolutely not,’ Rafael retorted. ‘What about it, Kelly? Will you help escort my mother home, keeping her from bogeymen?’

‘Are you staying with your mother?’

‘No,’ he said brusquely and Kelly thought he and his mother must have talked about this already. It seemed to have touched a nerve. ‘My mother believes if I’m to do a decent job as Prince Regent then I live here. In the State Apartments.’

Kass’s rooms. She’d never been admitted to them in the time she’d been here, but she’d walked past open doors. She’d never seen so much opulence in her life.

‘You’ll enjoy that,’ she managed and he stared at her as if she’d lost her mind.

‘Plenty of room for toys,’ she ventured and his mother choked.

‘There surely is. See, Rafael, there’s a new way of looking at things.’ She was walking towards the door. ‘I don’t need an escort, thank you, children, but…’

‘But you’re having an escort,’ Rafael growled.