Her Royal Baby

‘Actually,’ he told her through clenched teeth-his anger threatening to overwhelm him, ‘I’m an aquatic engineer. I design and advise on community water supplies, and I need to get back to my work.’

‘How fascinating,’ she snapped. ‘You miss your engineering, do you? Well, can I remind you that I’m not just Henry’s aunt? I’m a tree surgeon. I need to get back to my work.’

‘You can. Right here.’

‘But you can’t design whatever it is you design here as well?’

‘There’s no need…’

‘There’s every need. I don’t know the first thing about running castles. Nor do I intend to try.’

‘You don’t need to. The palace will run itself.’

‘Yeah, like it’s been running itself for the last ten years. Mrs Burchett’s been telling me what a disaster it’s been.’

‘She’s been telling you too damn much.’

‘She’s been telling me how miserable they all were,’ she snapped. ‘How everything’s been pushed to the side. How Jean-Paul and his elder brother before him refused to take on any responsibility for either the palace or the broader principality. And here you are, ruler for the next twenty-five years whether you like it or not, taking yourself off from responsibility as fast as your legs can carry you. Landing me-’

‘I’m still coping with the political necessities of the crown. I’m not landing you with anything.’

‘No. Not with Henry?’

‘He’s your nephew.’

‘He’s your heir.’

‘He’s not my heir. Do you understand nothing about regencies?’

‘I understand enough,’ she said through gritted teeth. Henry had closed his eyes now, slumping down on her shoulder with the expression of a baby at peace with his world. ‘I understand that your responsibility is this kingdom-this principality-for twenty-five years. I understand that this place needs a leader. It’s desperate for a leader. I hadn’t been here for half an hour before I saw that, and according to the staff in the kitchen this palace is just a sample of how much the rest of the country’s in need of leadership. And off you go, heading back to your castle to be an aquatic engineer.’

‘I don’t need this. I never wanted-’

‘What? Responsibility? Commitment? Mrs Burchett told me how you’ve been running scared of it all your life. She told me about your mother-’

‘What the hell do you know about my mother?’ He was almost speechless.

‘That your father had an affair with Jean-Paul’s mother and broke your mother’s heart. That she committed suicide when you were twelve years old and your father drank himself to death soon after. That you blamed Jean- Paul’s family-the royal family-for destroying your childhood.’

‘I don’t believe I’m hearing this.’ How dared Mrs Burchett talk about him like this? He should stalk into the castle and sack her on the spot.

But…she’d only reiterated what every woman’s magazine in the principality had been saying for years. Like it or not, this was public knowledge.

Tammy was backing away, her anger fading as she realised that maybe she’d gone too far. ‘I know,’ she conceded, a hint of apology in her voice. ‘You’re right in that your past history is none of my business. But I didn’t have to be here long to see the staff are desperate. They want you here so much. They were trying to make me see…’

‘Make you see what?’

‘That you have to stay. They didn’t tell me you intended to go back to your home, but now that you’ve said it-I guess it explains their attitude. They’ll have known you intended to leave me and Henry here alone. Marc, I’m sorry about your past. I shouldn’t have brought it up, but…’

But he was past listening to apologies. He was almost past listening-period. ‘This has nothing to do with gossip,’ he exploded. ‘It has nothing to do with the past. I’m not a prince. I’m an engineer.’

But she couldn’t let him off the hook. She couldn’t. It was too important for so many people.

In a way it’d be a relief if he left, she thought. The man unsettled her in a way she hadn’t thought was possible. But the alternative-for her to care for Henry by herself in this amazing place…

It wouldn’t work. Henry needed her, but he needed Marc even more. For the little boy to be brought up as the future ruler of Broitenburg…

He needed Marc.

‘You’re the country’s leader,’ she told him, and waited.

‘By default. Henry’s the leader.’

‘Yeah, right.’ She shifted the sleeping little boy on her shoulder and gave him a wry look. ‘Is there anything you’d like him to sign right now? Any acts of parliament you’d like him to draft?’

‘I told you,’ he said with exaggerated patience, as if he was dealing with a fool, ‘I’ll be ten miles away. I’ll be caring for the political necessities. I can be over here in half an hour.’

‘Your place is here.’

‘No. Your place is here.’

‘So you brought me here. Very good. Well done. But you’re not skiving off.’

‘I told you, I have no intention of skiving…’

‘Marc?’

They hadn’t noticed her, but Ingrid was suddenly above them. She was standing on the top step, staring down in amazement at the warring couple below her. Perfectly groomed in country style-a pale cashmere cardigan over an elegantly cut little tweed skirt-she was beautifully made up, without a hair out of place. Her eyes went to Marc’s feet in horror. ‘What on earth are you doing outside?’ she demanded. ‘In bare feet?’

He couldn’t work out why she was so offended-whether it was because he was outside without her and talking to another woman, or because he was outside in bare feet. Despite the outrage of the last few moments he was forced to smile.

It was a very strained smile.

‘Sorting gravel with my toes,’ he admitted. ‘I wouldn’t advise it. Tammy here must have feet of leather. Good morning, Ingrid.’

There was no return smile. ‘Good morning.’ Her tones were like ice. Her greeting was addressed to Marc and only to Marc. Obviously she was still smarting from Tammy’s responses the night before. ‘I expected you in the breakfast room.’

‘I thought you were breakfasting in bed.’

‘I never breakfast in bed. The servants know that.’

He frowned over that one. I never breakfast in bed… ‘How long have you been here?’

‘Three days.’

He’d assumed she’d come yesterday. ‘Why on earth have you been here this long? You knew I wasn’t due back until yesterday.’

‘Someone has to keep an eye on the place,’ she said icily. ‘It’s your responsibility now, Marc. You can’t let the servants get away with murder.’

‘That’s just what I was saying,’ Tammy told her, sticking in her two bits’ worth. ‘Did you know his Royal Highness is hot-footing it back to his own property as soon as he can?’

‘Hot-footing?’ Ingrid’s perfect English failed her at that. She stared at Tammy as if she was something that had just crawled out of a piece of cabbage. ‘Hot-footing?’

‘Going back there to live,’ Tammy told her. ‘He’s planning on leaving me here-just to keep an eye on the place.’

‘What? By yourself?’ Her tone was incredulous.

‘That’s right. Well, just me and Henry.’ Tammy smiled at the downy head of her nephew. ‘His Highness says it makes sense. See if you can dissuade him, will you?’ She turned back to Marc. ‘Meanwhile, if you don’t want me to start ringing up realtors looking for houses to rent, maybe you’d better address the problem yourself. You must see this is impossible.’ She gave Marc her very brightest smile, dismissing him to a nicety. ‘I’m sorry, Your Big Highness, but I have to put His Little Highness to bed. If you’ll excuse me…?’