Her Royal Baby

Tammy bit her bottom lip and turned away, to find Mrs Burchett surveying the pair with every appearance of disapproval.

‘Well, miss,’ the elderly lady said, dragging her eyes from them as if she was seeing something she’d rather not. ‘You can meet Miss Ingrid later. For now you’ll be tired of travelling and tired of meeting people. Let’s get you and the wee one settled.’

‘Tell me what the set-up is here.’

It had taken Tammy all of two minutes to know that in Mrs Burchett she’d found a friend. Jeans and faded shirts might be inappropriate for this castle, but it was obvious that Mrs Burchett had been afraid of Tammy being another Lara-or another Ingrid. Her relief was palpable.

‘What do you want to know?’

‘Everything.’ They were settling Henry into the vast nursery suite. Henry had been the easiest child to travel with, Tammy thought and the reason was obvious. He expected nothing. He didn’t cry because tears didn’t produce results. He’d passed between Tammy and Marc with no fuss at all, and all he needed for occupation was the ear of his teddy.

He should make more fuss, she thought savagely. He should know people. He should demand attention. At ten months it was unnatural not to. The more time she spent with him the more Tammy wanted to shake her sister-her mother-Marc-anyone who’d had anything to do with him.

‘The set-up here is simple,’ Mrs Burchett told her. ‘Apart from you and Prince Marc and Miss Ingrid, there’s just staff. Until Prince Jean-Paul’s death we hardly saw any of the royal family. Jean-Paul and your sister spent most of their time in resorts that are a good deal more exotic than this place. We were too far from the major cities for Prince Jean-Paul. The last time I saw Master Henry was when he was two weeks old. The family hasn’t been back here since.’

‘Never?’

‘Never.’ The housekeeper shook her head. She gave Tammy a searching look, and then decided to be even more forthcoming. ‘We run a good household,’ she told her, ‘but the last few years have been hard. Many of us weren’t being paid. It was only the fact that many had nowhere else to go that made us stay. Like me. I was an assistant cook-I came twenty years ago to have a change of scene when my husband died. Normally I’d never have been promoted to housekeeper somewhere as grand as this, but everyone more senior left. It’s only since Prince Jean-Paul died that things have started to be put back in order.’

‘By Marc?’

‘By His Highness, yes.’

She couldn’t call him His Highness, Tammy thought ruefully. Maybe if he hadn’t kissed her…

Maybe. But for whatever reason she simply didn’t think of him as His Highness. She thought of him as Marc.

‘And Miss Ingrid?’

‘She’s been here for three days,’ Mrs Burchett told her and the disapproval was straight back again. ‘She arrived to wait for him-so she said. She’s been acting like she owns the place since she arrived. Like Princess Lara’s moth-’ She gasped as she realised what she’d nearly said, and bit back the words, but Tammy knew what she’d intended to say.

‘Like my mother?’

‘I didn’t mean…’ Madge Burchett put a hand up to cover her eyes, and when they reappeared Tammy saw tears glistening on her lashes. ‘I’m so sorry. I’m speaking out of turn. It’s just…I seldom see anyone here who’s English, and we’ve been hoping for so long that the little one would come back here. It means everything to us that His Highness has succeeded in bringing him home. And it’s not just me who’s affected. It’s everyone in this country. My tongue’s run away with me. I had no business criticising Miss Ingrid or your mother. My dear, I never meant…’

‘You needn’t worry. There’s no love lost between my mother and me.’

‘Beg pardon, miss.’ The elderly lady gave an audible sniff. ‘But are you thinking you’ll stay?’

‘I don’t seem to have any choice.’ Tammy sat down on the vast and opulent bed in the room next to Henry’s and swung her legs. Her toes didn’t touch the floor. This was some bed. It was some palace. More and more she was starting to wonder what she was doing here. She had no role. Aunt to Henry? Here on a permanent basis? She’d be a fish out of water.

But at least there was kindness among the staff. Mrs Burchett might think she’d been out of line, but her welcome couldn’t have been warmer. Now she was beaming at her with a smile that would have warmed the coldest of hearts. ‘It’s so lovely to see the wee one with someone who cares. We were that pleased when His Highness rang and said you’d refused to let Henry come back without you. It’s the first time we’ve had anyone even hinting that they care about the baby’s welfare. Poor little mite. And now…’ She gave herself a little shake, as if she’d said what she wanted to say and was now moving on. ‘I’ll let you unpack and sort yourself out. Is your luggage coming in another car?’

‘This is my luggage.’

The woman looked down at the grubby backpack in dismay. ‘But, my dear…’

‘It’s all I need.’

‘But what will you wear to dinner?’

‘This. I intend to eat here. I don’t want to eat with His Highness. Or…or Ingrid.’

‘You can’t eat up here.’ The housekeeper sounded appalled.

‘Then I’ll eat with you, in the servant quarters.’

‘That would never do.’ The thought was clearly horrific.

Damn. Tammy looked around her at the lushly furnished nursery suite. It might be gorgeous, but it needed a stove and a fridge and a few basic essentials. And she just knew there wouldn’t be a supermarket for miles! ‘Can’t I just have a sandwich up here?’

‘Maybe for tonight…’ the housekeeper said doubtfully. ‘I’m not sure… Does His Highness know what you intend?’

‘His Highness knows I intend to be independent.’

‘And he approves?’

‘It hardly matters,’ Tammy told her, somehow managing a reassuring smile. ‘I make my own decisions.’

‘I’ll send you up your sandwich, dear,’ Mrs Burchett told her. ‘If that’s what you want. But what the Prince will say I daren’t think…’

True to her word, Mrs Burchett sent up sandwiches and a glass of milk for her dinner. By that time Tammy had been in the castle for a whole two hours.

She was hardly at home yet. She’d spent the two hours unpacking-well, that had taken her ten minutes. Then she’d explored her surroundings. She seemed to have a vast wing to herself, and it was so huge it took her an hour of prowling before she felt she knew the half of what was there. She wasn’t brave enough to leave her wing in case she never found her way back.

She’d fed Henry, whose time clock was out of kilter. He’d eaten and fallen asleep almost straight away. She’d showered, put on clean jeans, and then tried to figure out how she could stop feeling strange.

It was impossible, she thought, and when the sandwiches and milk arrived on silver salvers, complete with uniformed steward carrying them, she felt really, really ridiculous.

Worse was to come. She’d had one bite of a sandwich and there was a knock on the door. There was no wait for a response. Marc marched right in. He was dressed for dinner. Royal dinner. Dark suit, crisp white shirt, royal blue tie.

He was certainly something! He looked a real prince, Tammy thought, and tried to stop her heart giving the absurd lurch she was almost growing accustomed to.

He stopped two feet inside the door and stared at her sandwich as if it was personally offensive.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’

‘What do you think?’ She was perched on the side of her ridiculous bed and she waved her sandwich at him. ‘Eating dinner.’

‘Dinner’s in the dining room. Now.’

‘Nope. Dinner’s here.’