Читать книгу Rags To Riches: At His Bidding: A Home for Nobody's Princess / The Rancher's Housekeeper / Prince Daddy & the Nanny - Rebecca Winters, Brenda Harlen - Страница 13
ОглавлениеPromptly one hour later, a knock sounded on the front door of the villa. With Emma in one arm, Benjamin opened the door to a slim, middle-aged, balding man wearing a suit.
“Hello,” the man said, his gaze sweeping the small foyer. “I’m Peter Bernard for Miss Coco Jordan. I presume you are Mr. Garner,” Peter said. “You and the baby are more than welcome to join us.”
“I’d like for her not to be distracted by the baby during the tour,” Benjamin said, towering over the man as he extended his hand. “Miss Jordan is very important to me. I trust you’ll take good care of her.”
Coco grabbed her jacket and walked toward the door. Benjamin caught her arm before she could leave and she met his gaze. “Have fun, sweetheart. Emma and I will be waiting for you,” he said and lowered his head to kiss her.
Coco stared at him for a long moment, stunned that he’d kissed her, then she reminded herself that this was part of their ruse. She finally managed to take a breath and nodded. “Thanks. I hope she’ll take a little nap. I’ll see you later, um, honey.” She nearly choked on the word. This was going to be more difficult than she’d anticipated.
“Miss Jordan,” the man at the door prompted.
“Yes,” she said, relieved to have her attention diverted from Benjamin. “Mr. Bernard.”
He nodded and escorted her to a car parked in front of the villa. “We shall tour the grounds first and I’ll provide you with a history of the Devereau family,” he said as the driver opened the door for her and Mr. Bernard.
“Although our gardens and vegetation are always lovely here in Chantaine, unfortunately, due to the time of the year, most of our flowers are not in full bloom. As you can see, however, we have several green courtyards that provide the royal family with opportunities for moments to ponder and escape the pressures of their responsibilities.”
Coco drank in the sight of the lush, green palace grounds. She could only imagine how stunning they would be with colorful flowers and foliage. As Mr. Bernard continued to give her a running commentary on the various buildings, including guest cottages, staff quarters and stables, she wondered what it would be like to grow up in a place like this. She thought of her own childhood home in a rural town in Texas and smiled.
“Do you have fishing ponds?” she asked.
Mr. Bernard blinked at her. “Fishing ponds?”
“Yes. Large ponds where you can swim and fish,” she said.
Mr. Bernard gave a slight smile. “We have a pool and ocean for swimming. Likewise, the royal yacht can be used for fishing expeditions. There are a few stocked ponds on the property that feature mostly garibaldi fish and carp. Do you have more questions?”
She shook her head. “Not right now.”
“Very well, we shall now proceed to the palace,” he said.
Mr. Bernard began to share the history of the Deveraux family and Chantaine. The family, of course, went back centuries and representatives of the crown had conducted a series of negotiations with both France and Italy in order for the royal family to remain in power and for Chantaine to maintain its independence.
“Some men are born to rule and some are determined to make a difference. Chantaine is proud that with this new generation, the royal family actively seeks to improve the quality of life for all of Chantaine’s people. Within the last several years, His Royal Highness, Stefan, has invited a limited number of cruise ships to our port. He and the rest of the royal family have instituted art, music and film events with percentages donated to Chantaine’s charities. And, of course, Her Highness Bridget married a highly credentialed American doctor, who now serves as our chief medical officer. Prince Stefan is always looking for ways to improve Chantaine.”
The car slowed to a stop in front of the grand palace entrance. White columns rose several stories high. A man in uniform stood at the front door. The driver ushered her out of the car and she joined Mr. Bernard as the huge heavy door opened to a grand two-story foyer with curving staircases and marble floors. Above her hung several chandeliers.
“Wow,” she whispered.
Mr. Bernard continued his discourse as he led her throughout the main floor of the palace, which held numerous meeting rooms, two ballrooms and several nooks with antique furniture where someone could look out the window and enjoy the sight of the palace grounds. As her guide commented on the origin of the architecture of the palace, she couldn’t contain her curiosity any longer.
“What was he like?” she asked. “Prince Edward?”
Mr. Bernard seemed slightly taken aback. “Prince Edward was a sword master. His passion was yachting and he was loyal in his duties as prince. He graduated from university in France and provided Chantaine with an excellent heir, along with a progeny that are a delight to our citizens.”
“And his—” she paused, wanting to repeat the word he’d used, though it wasn’t one she would dream of choosing “—his progeny. What are they like?”
“As I said, they are delightful.”
But that didn’t answer her question.
* * *
Coco ate half her sandwich with Emma on her lap while Benjamin wolfed down the meal delivered from the palace kitchen. He eyed her remaining half sandwich.
She shoved her plate toward him. “Take it. I’m not going to eat it. I have formal tea in a short while. Can we look that up on Google? I’ve never had a formal tea before.”
“You’re sure?” he asked, staring at her sandwich.
“I’m sure,” she said and shoved her plate toward him.
He immediately scooped up her half sandwich. “Did you get any real information?” he asked before he took a bite.
“He was very nice and informative, but when I asked what the royal family was like, he said delightful.”
He scowled. “No one is always delightful. He’s a PR guy. You’ll get a better feel for this after this afternoon.”
“But I’m nervous now,” she confessed. “I’ve never had a formal tea before and certainly never with royals. I really need to check Google. Am I supposed to curtsey?”
“It’s a choice. You’re not one of their subjects,” he said. “You’re not a citizen of their country.”
“True,” she said, feeling conflicted. “I just want to be respectful.”
He snorted. “Let them be respectful to you.”
His response made her smile.
Emma waved toward the plate she’d shoved in Benjamin’s direction and protested as if she wanted what was on his plate.
“Uh-oh,” he said.
“Yes. We have jars ready for her. As soon as you finish, can you give her some food while I look up high tea on the internet?”
He chuckled. “Yeah, I’m there,” he said, reaching for Emma.
Emma hesitated.
“He’s got the food,” Coco said in a low voice and gave Emma a squeeze before she passed the baby to him.
“And that baby food is where?” he asked as Emma began to squawk.
“I’ll get it,” Coco said and found a jar in a backpack. “Here,” she said, giving him a jar of strained peas.
He made a face. “This didn’t end well the last time I fed her strained peas.”
“Stop when she starts to spit. Don’t continue to put food in when she is spitting it out,” she said. “It’s pretty logical.”
He frowned. “Easy for you to say. You do this all the time.”
“This is your opportunity to bond with your daughter,” she said.
Emma began to fuss and lift her arms toward Coco. “Oops, I’ll go into a different room and try to find out more about an afternoon tea. May I use your tablet?” Coco asked.
“Go right ahead,” he said.
Emma let out a loud scream of protest that tugged at Coco’s heart, but she forced herself to close the door behind her. She suffered during the next couple moments while Emma loudly voiced her displeasure. Finally, the baby quieted, and Coco’s stomach unknotted just a bit. She was still tense about meeting her half siblings.
Pulling out the tablet, she ran a search on afternoon tea and scanned for proper etiquette. No circular stirring. Move spoon from six o’clock position to twelve o’clock position. Never put your napkin in the seat. Don’t slice your scone....
Coco made a face. She didn’t even like scones. She continued to cram for the tea when a knock sounded on the door. Her stomach jolted into her throat and she jumped to her feet.
Taking a deep breath, she walked through the kitchen where Emma grinned at her. Peas were smeared on her cheeks and in her hair. “I think she’s done,” she said in a low voice to Benjamin.
“Think so?” he said in a dry tone. “I made the mistake of giving her the spoon.”
Coco watched Emma bang the spoon on the tray then toss it onto the floor. She winced. “Bad precedent. We’ll need to distract her during her next mealtime.”
Another knock sounded and Coco met Benjamin’s gaze. He rose to walk her to the door. “Just remember what I told you. Even that Emily Post woman says Americans should not bow or curtsey to anyone.”
“I’m pretty sure Emily Post never wrote a column about this particular situation,” she muttered and opened the door.
Benjamin grabbed her arm and lowered his head to press his mouth against hers. “I’ve got your back,” he said.
His reassurance gave her a warm feeling. “Thanks,” she said and joined Mr. Bernard for the second time that day.
Mr. Bernard prepped her for the tea during the short drive to the palace. “I’ll introduce each of the princesses to you individually. Prince Stefan will stop in later, due to his work schedule. Come this way,” he said and guided her down the marble hallway to a small room furnished with a lush wool carpet, antique furniture and a small table set with a sterling tea set, china teacups and saucers, small plates and a small tower of the scones she was not supposed to slice, along with jellies and other treats.
Mr. Bernard stood next to the door while Coco waited and walked around the room. She didn’t want to be suspicious, but she couldn’t help wondering if he were remaining in the room because he thought she might lift a souvenir and try to pocket it. The notion made her fume. She might not have been raised in a palace, but she’d been taught the difference between right and wrong.
Coco took a deep breath and chided herself. Be positive.
Suddenly, she heard footsteps and three women walked through the doorway. Mr. Bernard bowed to each of them. After studying their photographs on the internet, Coco could name each of them. The blonde was Princess Fredericka. The stylish brunette was Princess Bridget and the woman with the sweet face and wild hair and who also appeared to be sporting a baby bump was Princess Phillipa.
“Princess Fredericka, may I present Miss Coco Jordan,” Mr. Bernard said.
In the interest of erring on the side of politeness, Coco attempted a curtsey and briefly bowed her head.
Fredericka extended her hand. “My pleasure to meet you,” she said and stepped aside for Mr. Bernard to introduce Princess Bridget. She also followed with, “My pleasure to meet you.”
The icy formality strained her nerves as she prepared for her third curtsey. “Princess Phillipa, I present Miss Coco Jordan.”
Princess Phillipa took Coco’s hand with both of hers. “My pleasure to meet you. Thank you for coming such a long distance to meet us. Shall we sit and drink tea?”
Coco breathed a slight sigh of relief. At least Princess Phillipa seemed friendly.
A server appeared and poured the tea, asking each person. “Sugar or cream?”
“Just sugar, please,” Coco said. “Thank you very much.”
She watched the princesses do the vertical stirring motion she’d read on the internet and followed their example. A long silence followed.
The princesses exchanged expressions with each other. Bridget set down her teacup. “I understand you live in Texas. As you probably know, our family has associations with several Texans. My sister Princess Valentina lives in Texas with her husband and daughter, and my husband is originally from Texas. Do you like it there?”
“I don’t really know anything else,” Coco said. “I’ve lived there my entire life and haven’t traveled all that much. My experience is that there are a lot of good people in Texas. Because of that, I consider myself pretty lucky.”
Bridget nodded and glanced at Fredericka. “Texas has such charm. I’m not sure I could endure your summers. How do you do it?”
“Air-conditioning and iced tea and lemonade,” she said.
Phillipa laughed. “That sounds like something Eve would say. Eve is our brother Prince Stefan’s wife. She’s also from Texas. I’m not sure how much Mr. Bernard has shared with you or what you may have gleaned from the internet about the family.”
“Mr. Bernard gave me a tour this morning and gave me a brief history lesson on Chantaine and the Devereau family, but it was so much information, I may not be able to pass the quiz if I have to take it this afternoon,” she confessed.
Bridget’s lips lifted in a half smile that she quickly hid with her teacup. “Tell us about yourself.”
Coco immediately felt at a loss. “Well, as you know, I’m from Texas. I’m studying for a degree in early childhood education. Well, I was studying, but my mother became ill.” She noticed that she was cupping her teacup and remembered that was a no-no, so she put one of her hands in her lap.
“We’re sorry for your loss,” Phillipa said. “My husband has recently been through a similar experience with his mother.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. My sympathies to both of you,” Coco said.
“Did I understand correctly that you are working as a nanny?” Bridget asked.
“Yes,” Coco said. “For Benjamin Garner’s daughter, Emma. She’s adorable.”
“How old is she?” Bridget asked.
“Only five months old, but quite verbal.”
Bridget’s eyes rounded in surprise. “She’s already talking?”
“In her special language,” Coco said. “She’s quite the magpie.”
Phillipa laughed. “When you’re not taking care of Emma, what do you like to do?”
“I have to be honest, most of my time has been spent helping Emma adjust to living with her father. Emma’s mother died suddenly less than two months ago. But when I get the chance, I like to fish.”
All three of the princesses stared at her silently, and Coco wondered if she’d overshared.
“Fish?” Fredericka echoed.
Coco nodded. “With a pole and a worm or crawdads.”
“Eve would love this,” Bridget muttered under her breath. “She already thinks we’re a bunch of sissies, so—”
The door to the room opened and Mr. Bernard announced, “His Royal Highness, Prince Stefan.”
Coco’s mind went blank, but she noticed the princesses rose, so she did the same. Clumsily. She knocked over her teacup, spilling the brown liquid onto the exquisite tablecloth.
“Oh, no! I’m so sorry. I—” She reached for her napkin and began to mop up the liquid. “How will you ever get this tea out of this beautiful material? I—”
“Miss Coco Jordan,” another male voice said.
Coco glanced up to meet Prince Stefan’s gaze. He didn’t look friendly. She gave a quick curtsey, on the wrong foot, and dipped her head.
Prince Stefan extended his hand and she rose. “It is our pleasure to meet you. I trust Mr. Bernard has taken good care of you,” he said.
“Yes, thank you.”
“I must leave due to a meeting this afternoon. Please don’t hesitate to call Mr. Bernard for anything you may need during your stay. Have a good day to all of you,” he said, glancing at his sisters and he left the room.
Coco vaguely remembered that she was supposed to curtsey again, so she did, using the correct foot this time. As soon as the prince left, the servers changed the tablecloth in record time. Self-conscious, Coco glanced toward the princesses. Their expressions suddenly seemed cool and remote. Coco would almost swear someone had turned the temperature in the room down to freezing.
Sinking carefully into her chair, Coco pressed her lips together and made herself smile. None of the princesses returned her forced grimace. A server asked her if she would like more tea and she shook her head. She didn’t want to ruin any more antique linens.
Silence permeated the room like the most stifling heat and humidity in July. Coco was at a loss as to what to say, and it appeared the princesses felt no need to chat. She wondered if they were truly that upset about her spilling tea.
A clock sounded three times. Fredericka glanced at her watch and stood. Her sisters followed. Coco quickly rose to her feet.
“We’ve kept you long enough,” Fredericka said. “It was a pleasure to meet you and we hope you’ll enjoy your visit to our lovely country.”
Blinking from the abrupt ending to the visit, Coco dipped a few times. The princesses exited the room and Mr. Bernard appeared. “I shall escort you to your villa now,” he said.
Her mind whirled during the few moments it took to ride to the villa. Was that it? she wondered. She’d flown halfway around the world to have tea with her so-called half sisters and a few seconds with her so-called half brother.
She’d told herself to expect nothing. Her stomach began to turn and her heart hurt. Locking her fists together, she lectured herself. Do not get upset. Do not get upset.
Mr. Bernard ushered her out of the car. She felt him watching her as she walked toward the front door.
“I’m not disappointed,” she whispered to herself. “I’m not disappointed. I’m not—”
The front door opened before she’d barely touched it and Benjamin—strong, wonderful Benjamin—studied her face. “How’d it go?” he asked.
Coco burst into tears.
* * *
“Not great,” Benjamin muttered and gently pulled Coco into the small den. He helped her onto the love seat as she continued to cry.
“I—shouldn’t—have—” She broke off and sobbed again.
The sound made his gut twist. Plus, he was starting to get real concerned that she would hyperventilate. “Hey,” he said, taking her shoulders. “Take a breath.”
She opened her mouth as if she were trying to comply, but another sob escaped. “I’m sorry,” she managed. “I haven’t—”
“Take a breath,” he told her. “Really.” He cupped her face. “Close your eyes. And breathe.”
She closed her eyes and drew in a shaky breath. She shuddered as she exhaled.
“Another one,” he told her.
She breathed again and her sigh was a little less shaky. “I’m sorry. I can’t remember the last time I cried this much.”
“Then I guess you’ve been holding it in. If you’re okay, I’ll get you some water,” he said.
She nodded and rubbed at her wet cheeks. “Just embarrassed.”
“Don’t be,” he said and got up to get her a glass of water. “You’re in one hell of a strange situation.”
Returning, he held the glass to her lips and noticed how plump and pink her mouth was. She sipped the water then took the glass with her own hands. “Thanks.” She took another sip and another deep breath and shook her head. “I just feel so stupid.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know what I was thinking. I kept telling myself and you that they wouldn’t have any interest in me, but some stupid part of me must have hoped they would.” She closed her eyes. “It’s not that I really believed there was any chance for a real sister-sister or sister-brother kind of relationship. I just hoped it would be a little more friendly.”
“What did they do?”
“Nothing terrible,” she said. “They were just horribly polite. The prince came into the room where we were having tea and I spilled my tea all over this beautiful tablecloth. I wondered if that was why they acted so cold after he arrived. He was only there for about a half minute.” She shook her head in confusion. “Before that, Bridget and Phillipa were almost nice. They even smiled a couple times and laughed.”
Benjamin frowned. Why would the royal chicks turn suddenly mean? “Did Prince Stuffy say anything to his sisters when he was there?”
“Stefan,” Coco corrected, but laughed. “Never thought of that about his name, but—”
“Did he say anything to his sisters?” he repeated.
She shook her head. “No. He kinda glared at them, but he didn’t say anything.”
“Hmm,” Benjamin said, wondering if the way the royals had behaved toward Coco was all part of a plan.
“What are you thinking?” she asked.
“Just thinking,” he said.
“Well, I don’t have to think about this situation one more minute,” she said. “I’m ready to leave now.”
Emma let out a cry from the room where she was sleeping. “Oh,” Coco said. “I should get her. I hope I didn’t wake her.”
“Probably not. She’s been asleep for a while,” he said and thought about Coco’s situation with the Devereaux. He hadn’t expected them to fall all over themselves welcoming her, but something about it didn’t smell right to Benjamin.
An hour later, after Coco gave Emma a bottle and her dinner, she put the baby on a big blanket on the floor of the den. Benjamin noticed Coco pacing restlessly. She was still upset about the Devereaux. He’d come up with a plan of his own, but he didn’t want to tell her about it quite yet.
“It’s still light out. You want to take her for a little stroll?” he asked.
Coco nodded, her face easing with relief. “Great idea. Do you want to go?”
“I think I’ll stay inside. I need to go over some updates from the foreman,” he said.
“Okay,” she said and put a light jacket and a little hat on Emma. “We won’t be gone long,” she said and stopped suddenly. “Thank you for putting up with me this afternoon.”
The expression in her blue eyes made his chest knot. “It wasn’t anything. I just want you to feel better,” he said and squeezed her shoulder.
She rose on tiptoe and surprised the heck out of him when she brushed her soft lips across his jaw. “It was a big something to me,” she countered, then fastened the baby in the stroller and left.
Benjamin rubbed his jaw at the strange sensation where she’d kissed him. He wondered if the rest of her was as soft as her lips. He wondered what her lips would feel like on his body. He wondered what kind of sounds she would make if he kissed her and touched her all over.
His body heated and he shook his head at himself. Crazy, he told himself. He had more important things to think about than the fact that he hadn’t been with a woman in too long. If there was one woman he shouldn’t even be thinking about taking to his bed, it was Coco. She was too important to him because of Emma. Coco was off-limits and he was damn determined to make sure he didn’t forget that.
Benjamin walked toward the telephone in the villa and picked it up. He dialed the number for Mr. Bernard, who picked up after the first ring.
“Bernard. May I help you?”
“Yes, you may. I need to speak with Stefan Devereau.”
Silence followed. “Pardon,” Bernard said. “To whom am I speaking?”
“This is Benjamin Garner, Miss Coco Jordan’s fiancé.”
Bernard cleared his throat. “Mr. Garner, I’m afraid it will be impossible to arrange an audience with the prince. His schedule is arranged months in advance.”
“I don’t want an audience. I want a man-to-man chat,” he said. “You can tell Stefan that the Devereaux family will be facing a public relations nightmare if he can’t find time to talk with me. Understand?”
Bernard cleared his throat. “I will relay your message, Mr. Garner.”
“You do that,” Benjamin said and hung up the phone.
