Her Royal Baby

‘Indeed, miss,’ the butler said dourly. ‘And I’m afraid it grew worse. Franz used her for his own ends but he had no intention of marrying her. She ended up pregnant and alone. She died of drug abuse and we still have no clear answer whether it was suicide or accident.’

‘I…see.’ Tammy did see, and she was appalled. The vision of a much younger Marc, betrayed, scorned, and then having to live with such a consequence, was dreadful. Oh, Marc…

But there was more Dominic needed to tell her. ‘I wonder whether you do see, miss?’ he said softly, his eyes on her face. ‘Every contact Marc ever had with this place turned to poison. When Franz died and Jean-Paul was killed-both incidents that cemented Marc’s disgust of the place-he was landed with the prospect of inheriting what was for him a tainted crown. The only way to escape it was to bring Henry back fast enough to inherit.’

‘So he lied to me,’ Tammy said, frowning. ‘He said…’

‘I believe he said if Henry didn’t inherit then no one could,’ the butler told her. ‘It’s what he believes himself, because he knows he couldn’t bear to inherit. He can hardly bear to step into this palace, much less inherit the crown.’

‘But if I took Henry home…’

‘Back to Australia?’ The butler was watching her and Tammy didn’t know what he was thinking. How could he see what was in her heart? He certainly seemed to. ‘If you did that then you’d be forcing Marc to inherit,’ he told her. ‘He’s said he couldn’t, but if it came to the crunch I believe he would take up his responsibility. He loves his country. He loves his people. It’s this palace he hates.’

‘It’s not this palace,’ Tammy said strongly. ‘This palace is beautiful. It’s the people in his past who are dreadful. People who are dead.’

‘Yes, miss. But how can we teach him that?’

They stared at each other-elderly retainer and young woman-and Tammy saw a reflection of her own fear in the old man’s face.

‘You love him,’ she said on a note of discovery, and Dominic nodded.

‘Yes, miss,’ he said simply. ‘I’ve always worked for his family. Master Marc-I mean His Royal Highness-brought me here after Jean-Paul died to try to clear up the mess that this place was in. I cared for him when he was a tiny boy. I put him on his first pony and I’ve watched him grow. I helped bury his mother and it was me who gave him the news that his ex-fiancee had died. It makes me feel ill to see him suffer again now.’

‘Suffer…’

‘I believe he loves you,’ Dominic said gently. ‘That’s why I’m talking to you like this. It’s not my business, but I can see what’s happening.’

‘He loves me?’ She was staring at the butler as if he’d lost his mind.

But Dominic’s voice was sure. ‘Yes, miss.’

‘He hardly knows me.’

‘He knows you.’ Dominic smiled, a smile of infinite sadness. ‘So do we all.’

‘But…’ She flinched, trying to take this on board. She couldn’t. Marc? Love her? The thing was impossible. He had so many women.

‘Why do you think he’s left now?’ Dominic asked her, and Tammy tried to make her confused mind focus. But all she could see was one clear path-right back to Australia.

‘I can’t stay here,’ she said on a note of finality. ‘I can’t. I…’

‘You love him, too.’

‘No. Yes. I don’t know!’ She turned to stare out of the vast French windows, as if she could still see Marc’s disappearing car. ‘This is impossible. If I took Henry back to Australia then Marc would inherit, like it or not. He’d be forced to take on his responsibilities.’

‘But he’d never learn to love,’ Dominic told her and she turned back to him, her eyes bright with unshed tears.

‘What on earth am I meant to do about that?’

There was no answer. They both knew it. Nothing. What was there to be done?

‘Hell.’ It was a whisper of fear. ‘Oh, Dominic…’

‘Yes, miss,’ Dominic said simply. He opened the door and stood aside while she passed out into the corridor. His confidences were clearly at an end. ‘It is hell. I don’t know what to do about it, and neither does anyone here. We’re hoping for a miracle, and only you can provide it.’

She didn’t get much sleep that night. After waking and playing until midnight Henry decided to revert to European time and snooze like an angel until morning. Not so his aunt. She paced the bedroom, tried unsuccessfully to sleep, and then paced some more.

What could she do?

Leave? Take Henry back to Australia? To a lifetime of childcare and single parenthood?

Would he hate her for robbing him of the throne? Maybe he would. And Marc would be left here-alone.

Could she stay here? Share Henry’s care with Marc? See him every other day? Hope Dominic was right?

Dominic couldn’t be right. How could such a man as Marc love her?

There was no sleep at all.

The following day she did some haphazard work in the gardens during Henry’s afternoon nap. But for the rest of the time she played with him, talked with him, and tried to keep her mind off what was happening to his big cousin.

Her love.

She loved him. The knowledge was now seared into her heart with a clarity that was blinding. She’d fallen in love with her little nephew and then she’d fallen even more deeply in love with his big cousin.

The whole situation was impossible. Absurd. She didn’t belong. Marc himself should be living here. He was either Prince Regent or Crown Prince, depending on what she did.

She could take Henry back to Australia and Marc would be Crown Prince, like it or not. A lonely Crown Prince. A man alone with his shadows. Or she could stay here with Henry and watch Marc be Prince Regent, independent and aloof.

And she’d go quietly nuts.

As the day wore on she hugged her little nephew over and over again, until she was sure he’d object, but he simply cooed at her and tried to pull her hair, and her heart twisted and twisted until she thought it would tear apart.

Because there was one more choice, and as the day wore on she saw that it was the only choice she could make. But it was the hardest decision she’d made in her life. How could she do it?

How could she not?

It was seven at night. Marc was at his desk in the huge front room he’d used as his study ever since he’d inherited Renouys. It was a magnificent room, furnished more for comfort than for style, and it was here that he considered himself home.

Not in that other place, he thought bitterly as he stared unseeing at the work in front of him. Not in the royal palace. His own home was grand enough, but it wasn’t a whisker on the Broitenburg royal residence.

The Broitenburg palace was Henry’s home, he told himself. And Tammy’s. It was no place for him. He’d done his duty for his country. He’d brought his tiny cousin home. If Tammy… No, if Henry needed him then he was available for the short time his assistance was required, but this was where he belonged.

So why did it seem so bleak? Why did this place that had always seemed such a sanctuary suddenly seem so empty?

He should contact his friends, he thought. Not Ingrid. He’d moved on from Ingrid. Other friends. He had a brilliant social circle. All he had to do was lift the phone and he’d have people down here. Or he could drive up to the city-catch up with friends at their home base. See a few shows. Try out the new restaurant everyone was talking about.

It held no appeal at all.

He had work to do. He clicked his computer mouse and a design sprang to life. It was the design Henry had