A Royal Proposition

‘He must be wonderful,’ Heather said at last, when she’d caught her breath. ‘It’d take a special sort of prince to look at you in your disgusting work clothes and see the gorgeous Penny-Rose underneath.’ She sighed once more. ‘You’ll be able to stop stone-walling.’

‘If anyone asked you to marry him,’ Rose said carefully, ‘would you stop wanting to be a doctor?’

That halted her sister’s romanticism in its tracks. ‘Um, no.’

‘Then leave my career alone.’

‘Alastair’s happy for you to stay a stone-waller?’

‘It’s what I am.’

There was a long, thoughtful silence, and then a sigh so deep it was almost a blessing.

‘Oh, Penny-Rose. Oh, love, I’m so happy for you I’m starting to cry.’

There was nothing Penny-Rose could do to prevent her siblings’ reactions.

There was also nothing she could do to stop the media frenzy. Even though no formal announcement had been made, their evening at Lilie’s had been noticed.

‘Stay at the castle from now on,’ Alastair told her, and she had no choice. Photographers were camped out at the castle gates. Their night at Lilie’s, along with Belle’s hasty departure, had been noticed and put together with glee. The media knew how urgently Alastair needed a bride, and Penny-Rose was obviously it.

And she didn’t like the sensation at all. The conversion of Penny-Rose to Rose…

‘I’m beginning to feel like a poor little rich girl,’ she said as she sat down to dinner with Marguerite and Alastair two days later. Reluctantly, she’d moved into the castle guest quarters. At knock-off time she therefore bathed away her grime and presented herself at the dinner table as a normal guest.

A normal guest? Ha! She didn’t feel in the least normal. She’d never seen so much glass and silverware in her life, and it took all her courage to stay dignified in front of the servants. Now, as the butler moved away with the dinner plates, she grimaced. ‘I can’t go anywhere?’

‘You couldn’t afford to go anywhere before this anyway.’ Alastair smiled across the table at her, his gentleness robbing his words of offence. ‘And at least we don’t serve you turnip soup.’

‘I know. I’m not complaining.’ Her sense of humour reasserted itself. But she wished he wouldn’t smile like that. It put her right off what she was thinking.

What was it? Oh, right. Not complaining…

‘Or at least, not very much,’ she added, hauling herself back to the matter in hand. ‘I just need to remember not to take my wheelbarrow close to the boundary while I’m working. And I dread long-distance lenses.’

‘They haven’t placed you as one of the stone-walling team,’ Alastair told her. ‘Heaven forbid that they do. You’re sure the team will stay silent? And the Berics?’

‘I’d imagine your money will ensure that,’ she said dryly. ‘Talk about buying silence. So you’re right. As long as I stay here I’m fine.’

‘But…’ Alastair was thinking this through ‘…there is one problem. You’ll need to take a trip to the city.’

‘Why?’

‘You need clothes.’

She bristled. ‘What’s wrong with my clothes?’

He hesitated, and then he smiled again, seeking to lessen offence. ‘Your dress…’ He motioned to her sundress. ‘I know I’m not supposed to notice, but it’s the third night in a row that you’ve worn it.’

Her bristle turned into a glower. ‘So? I like my dress.’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘And you have a wardrobe of different evening-wear?’

‘I don’t need-’

‘A stone-waller may not need, but my intended bride does,’ he told her. ‘Friday is official announcement time, and you should look great.’

‘She looks great now.’ Marguerite’s warmth and approval were the one constant in this arrangement that was making Penny-Rose feel OK with what was happening, and it came to the fore now. ‘The media will love her.’

‘Rose was photographed leaving Lilie’s in that dress,’ Alastair said stubbornly. ‘She needs another.’

Marguerite was like a defensive mother hen. ‘I’m sure she has another.’ And then she frowned at her son. ‘Why do you call her Rose? Her name is Penny-Rose.’

‘Penny-Rose is hardly a name for a princess. Rose is much more dignified.’

Much more not me, Penny-Rose thought. Still, this marriage was all about keeping their distance. If that was the way he wanted it…

It seemed he did.

‘Do you have anything else to wear?’ he asked, deflecting his mother’s query nicely.

‘Um…’ Penny-Rose turned pink. ‘Actually I don’t.’

‘Oh, my dear…’ Marguerite sounded horrified.

‘Don’t let it bother you,’ she said hastily. ‘I don’t understand what women see in choice. It makes dressing a whole lot more complicated.’

‘But it also makes it more fun.’ Marguerite had swung to her son’s point of view in a moment. ‘Now, where will you go to shop? You can’t go anywhere in this principality. You’ll be mobbed before you reach the first boutique. There’s nothing for it. Alastair, you’ll have to take her to Paris. You need a few days on the rue du Faubourg Saint Honore…’

‘Hey…’ The idea startled him. ‘I don’t have time to go to Paris. It’s not me who needs clothes.’

‘She can’t shop here.’

‘No, but-’

‘But Paris it must be. Are you saying that you won’t take her?’ his mother demanded, and fixed him with a look.

‘I could have Belle take her…’

There was a collective intake of breath. And then Alastair had the grace to grimace. ‘OK. Bad idea. Belle’s well known and there are media problems everywhere.’ He sighed and appealed again to his mother. ‘But you’re the obvious one to go.’

‘No, dear.’ His mother shook her head. ‘The press has seen you once together. The more romance we can imbue this with, the better. I’m not saying I hope the photographers find you-you need a couple of days’ grace-but if they do eventually track you down, it’d be so romantic to have you photographed strolling down Paris streets, hand in hand.’

‘Hey, I don’t intend holding anyone’s hand,’ Penny-Rose retorted, and Marguerite sighed again.

‘You two aren’t very good at this romance business, are you?’

‘We’re fine,’ Alastair said.

‘Right. Good. So hold hands.’

‘Mother…’

‘You need to get used to it.’ His mother looked from Penny-Rose to Alastair and back again. ‘In six weeks someone’s going to say, “You may kiss the bride.” If that means one chaste kiss on the forehead, the lawyers will label this marriage a sham and the castle-and the estate-will be lost. To us and to the villagers.’

‘They can’t-’

‘This marriage has to appear real,’ Marguerite said with asperity. ‘Alastair, stop treating the girl as if she’ll bite. Penny-Rose, stop treating the man as if he’s your boss. Get friendly.’

‘Yes, ma’am,’ Penny-Rose said, and she managed a smile. ‘I’ll do what I can.’

‘Alastair, take the girl to Paris. And start calling her Penny-Rose.’

‘Um…’

‘Don’t “um” me,’ his mother snapped. ‘Get a handle on this. You never know, you could just enjoy yourselves.’

‘Rose could enjoy shopping on her own.’

‘Call her Penny-Rose.’

‘It’s not a princess’s name.’

‘And she’ll only be a princess? Not a friend?’

‘We need to keep things formal.’

‘Fine,’ his mother said, exasperated. ‘Just take what’s-her-name to Paris.’