Her Royal Baby

And she swept past them both with every appearance of a grande dame-bare feet and all.

For all her confidence in the face of Marc and his lady, Tammy was badly shaken. This palace was beautiful. This country was magnificent! But she hadn’t planned on being landed as mistress of the house.

Was she supposed to take on the role of woman in charge of the destiny of the heir to the country?

She supposed she was, she thought, as she watched Henry sleep, and, being fair, it wasn’t Marc’s fault that she’d been landed with such a role. It was her sister who’d landed her in it by naming her as Henry’s guardian.

Fine. She could look after Henry, she decided, but looking after the entire household and training Henry to his future role was another matter entirely.

‘Would you like to check the dinner menu?’ Mrs Burchett asked her mid-morning, and Tammy grimaced her dismay.

‘Why on earth would you ask me?’

‘I don’t like bothering His Highness.’

‘What about Ingrid?’ Tammy asked, and the housekeeper gave a determined little shake of her head.

‘It’s you who’s the mistress here now. We’ve been discussing things in the servants’ quarters and it seems that’s the way that’ll suit everyone best. Now, what do you think of quail as main course?’

‘I think chicken’ll be better,’ Tammy faltered. ‘Because that’s what I feel like right now. A chicken without any tail feathers.’

Lunch turned out to be a meal of solitary splendour. Tammy decided to avoid a replay of last’s night’s argument, and after Dominic announced ‘Lunch will be served in fifteen minutes,’ she arrived in time. She even wore shoes.

She couldn’t make up her mind to be relieved or dismayed when Marc and Ingrid were nowhere to be seen.

‘His Highness and Miss Ingrid will be lunching elsewhere,’ Dominic told her in a voice that forbade further questions.

Good, she told herself firmly. This was good. This way she could get to know Marc’s butler-a man she’d sensed from the first could turn out to be a friend. He’d been silently watching her at breakfast, but she’d felt that she was being judged. If she got this man on side he could be a powerful ally.

And it worked. It took all of the first course for Tammy to elicit a thaw in the elderly butler, but by the time she’d demolished the home-grown strawberries for dessert she was almost sure she could count him amongst her friends.

So where were Marc and Ingrid?

‘They’ll have driven over to His Highness’s property,’ he told her. ‘Renouys. Although the staff would much prefer him to remain here, his Royal Highness doesn’t enjoy this place.’

‘Do you think you’ll persuade him to stay?’ Tammy asked, and the butler grimaced.

‘I hardly know,’ he admitted. ‘But any persuasion you can add would be very much appreciated.’

Yeah, right. How was she going to do that?

She thought about it and she didn’t have a clue. What she did know was that if Marc was off doing what he wanted she should do the same.

So after lunch she left a sleepy Henry with a clucky Mrs Burchett and took herself off to meet the head gardener. If Marc was off planning his future as an aquatic engineer, she told herself firmly, then maybe she’d better meet a few trees.

The head gardener was older even than Dominic. Otto spoke scant English, but he and Tammy had a common love of gardens. Language aside, here was an instant friend. The old man had been discouraged from doing anything new with the garden for years, but half an hour after they’d met they were poring over plans-Otto’s dreams laid out for the garden of the future.

The plans were wonderful. Language difficulties were forgotten, and so was time as they strolled around the property, checking sites for every one of Otto’s wonderful fantasies.

‘This is amazing,’ Tammy breathed as she stood on the site of a proposed avenue of Manchurian pear. ‘Marvellous.’

‘If M’sieur Marc permits…’

‘M’sieur Marc permits,’ Tammy said roundly. ‘Of course he’ll permit.’

‘What does M’sieur Marc permit?’ a voice asked behind them, and Tammy gave a start. She whirled to find Marc approaching through the trees. He was dressed in a suit, as though for business, and that was how he seemed. Businesslike. No nonsense.

But Tammy refused to be intimidated. After all, she’d seen him in his full royal regalia back in Australia, so how could a mere business suit throw her off-stride? The fact that the man himself threw her off-stride had to be ignored. ‘Have you seen these plans?’ she demanded. ‘They’re wonderful.’

‘What plans?’

But Otto was already rolling them up, as if ashamed. Undeterred, Tammy took them from him and unrolled them, refusing to listen to his protests. ‘Otto has so many things he wants to do in this garden,’ she told Marc. ‘I can’t understand why he hasn’t been permitted to do this before. Look at this hill we’re standing on. Most of the trees came down in some huge storm ten years ago-at least I think that’s what Otto’s telling me. But no one’s given him permission to replant, and erosion’s starting to be a problem. We need to get onto this straight away. It’d be a crime if we lost any more topsoil.’

‘A crime?’ There was a strange look on Marc’s face, but Tammy ignored it and kept right on going.

‘Yes. And it’s not as if money’s a problem. Otto’s has been propagating plants for years and has enough seedlings to plant a small forest. All you have to do is say the word and we can start.’

‘We?’

Tammy flushed, but she couldn’t deny her excitement. This estate was huge. There was so much to do.

‘I’ll help. Of course I’ll help.’

‘And you’ll love helping?’

‘Yes,’ she said tilting her chin in an unconsciously defiant reaction to the strangeness in Marc’s voice. ‘I can help all I want. Once my living quarters are sorted out.’

‘You’ll stay in the castle.’

She closed her eyes. Here it was again. ‘I won’t stay in the castle. You’ll stay in the castle.’

‘This,’ he said softly-dangerously-as Otto looked on in confusion, ‘has the makings of a children’s argument. I will. No, I will.’

‘So stop being childish,’ she snapped.

‘No one’s accused me of being childish.’

‘I can’t imagine why not,’ she declared, her chin still tilted in the way he was starting to recognise. ‘That’s just what you are. Offloading your responsibilities onto a mere girl…’

‘Now, that,’ he said carefully, ‘is nonsense. Has anyone ever called you a mere girl?’ He surveyed her thoughtfully. ‘I’d imagine you wouldn’t have been a mere girl even when you were three. What do you think, Otto?’ He turned to the old man and motioned to Tammy. ‘Fantastique?’

‘Oui,’ the gardener said definitely, grinning. ‘Et belle. Tres belle.’

‘That too,’ Marc said thoughtfully, surveying Tammy with care. He reached out and removed a grass seed from her hair. ‘Very definitely.’

‘If you two don’t mind?’ Tammy said, flushing, and Marc smiled.

‘Mind? Why should we mind? Two men discussing a beautiful woman…’

‘Yeah, with grass seeds in her hair, a stained T-shirt and the knees out of her jeans. You’re out of your minds.’

‘I don’t think we are,’ Marc told her, his smile intensifying. But he needed to move on. ‘Plans aside…and don’t think I don’t approve-I do…but I’m here to inform you that Mrs Burchett’s planning souffle as entree, so we mustn’t be late for dinner.’ His smile turned quizzical. ‘She also tells me she was planning on