future Crown Prince of Alp d’Estella had drifted back where he belonged.
Frustrated, she bent over to wake the twins, but Max caught her hand.
‘Leave them. They’ll see enough of it in the future.’
There was something in his voice that caught her. She stared across at him, and then turned and looked again at the castle. The battlements seemed to be looming above them, towering over the tiny town nestled underneath.
‘You don’t like it,’ she said.
‘I don’t like what it represents.’
‘What does it represent?’
‘Too much power. Too much money by too few people.’
‘You’re rich yourself.’
‘I earned my money through hard work,’ he said shortly. ‘The princes in this place got their money by taxing their people until they bled. You’d think I’d have anything to do with that?’
She thought about it, wondering. Thinking back to the family tree.
‘Your grandfather left the palace and went to France?’
‘Yes. But he’s not really my grandfather.’
‘So you’ve had no contact with the palace?’
‘I…no.’
‘Does that mean maybe?’
‘My…my father did,’ Max said shortly. ‘More fool him.’
‘You blame the palace for what happened to your father? And to Thierry?’
‘My mother does and she should know.’
‘Right,’ Pippa said and cast an uneasy glance down at Marc. This was getting tricky. ‘So if Marc takes on the Crown you’ll hold Thierry’s death against him?’
‘That’s ridiculous.’
‘As ridiculous as staring out at that great hunk of stone and saying that’s what killed your brother?’
‘I didn’t say-’
‘No, but you meant,’ she said. ‘I look at that castle and think fairy tale. But you look and see a dead brother. A psychologist could have a field-day with that.’
‘A field-day!’
‘Yes, you know-a day when everything’s on show. Like your emotions now.’
‘They’re not on show.’
‘No?’
‘No.’
She grinned. She had the great Maxsim de Gautier flummoxed. Excellent.
‘This is serious,’ he told her.
‘Nonsense,’ she said soundly, beginning to relax. ‘This is fun.’
It might have fun potential but it was so grand it took her breath away.
The limousine swept inside the castle grounds and pulled to a halt in a vast forecourt ringed by fountains. The chauffeur moved swiftly, opening the door for them, even saluting.
Ignoring Max’s protest-her back really was better-she gathered the nearest twin-Claire-into her arms and climbed out. At the sight of what lay ahead she gasped. She stared around her for a couple of awed moments while her stomach sank at the enormity of where she’d found herself.
There were thirty or more servants forming a guard of honour to the grand front entrance-vast marble steps set between marble columns flanking doors wide enough to accommodate a Sherman tank. The servants were dressed as the type of domestic servants Pippa had seen on television. The women were in severe black with frilled white aprons and white caps. The men were in total black, or, even more amazingly, red and black livery.
‘You’re kidding?’ Pippa breathed to Max. ‘This is something out of a movie.’
‘These people take royalty seriously,’ Max said severely, and Pippa gulped and nodded, stifling an inappropriate desire to giggle.
‘I can see that they do.’
A middle-aged man was standing apart from the servants, dressed in what looked like a military uniform, heavily decorated. He was big and heavy set, with a handle-bar moustache that made Pippa want to giggle again.
‘Welcome home, Your Highness,’ he told Max in careful English and Max winced.
‘I’m not Your Highness until I’m sworn in as Regent, and this is not my home.’ He gestured to Marc who was stirring into wakefulness in his arms. He set Marc onto his feet and reached back into the car to collect Sophie. ‘This is the new Crown Prince of Alp d’Estella and his sisters. I’d like to take them straight to the nursery. It’s been prepared?’
‘Of course.’ The man looked at Marc for a long moment, an enigmatic expression on his face. Then he shrugged and turned his attention to Pippa. ‘This would be the children’s nanny?’
‘I’m their guardian,’ Pippa said, more firmly than she felt, and she clutched Claire so hard that the little girl muttered a protest.
‘I see,’ the man said, assessing her from her toes up. She was wearing faded jeans and a comfortable windcheater. Max should have warned her, she thought, starting to feel vaguely hysterical. She needed a tiara or six. ‘We’ll prepare a bedroom for you in the Queen’s wing,’ the man said and she forgot about tiaras.
‘Where are the children sleeping?’
‘In the nursery.’
‘Is that in the Queen’s wing?’
‘No, but-’
‘I sleep where the children sleep,’ she said. ‘Isn’t that right, Max?’
‘Of course it is,’ Max said. ‘Pippa, this is Carver Levout. Carver is Chief of Staff here. Carver, this is Miss Phillippa Donohue, the children’s guardian. Whatever Pippa says regarding the children’s welfare goes.’
‘Yes, sir,’ the man said woodenly, but the glance he gave Pippa wasn’t wooden. It was appraising. It made Pippa stop feeling like giggling. She shivered.
‘You’ll be fine here,’ Max said bracingly. ‘Carver will introduce you to the staff and they’ll look after you. I guess you’ll all need to sleep. I’ll carry the kids up to their bed before I leave.’
She froze. ‘Before you go where?’
‘To a hotel down in the village. I’ll check with you tomorrow that you have everything you need.’
He was the picture of innocence, she thought. His nerve was breathtaking. ‘Excuse me, but you’re staying here,’ she managed.
‘As I agreed to,’ he said smoothly. ‘In the hotel in the village.’
‘You’re staying at the castle.’
‘I never said-’
‘You did,’ she said, more bluntly than was polite but she wasn’t feeling polite. She was damned if she was going to be left alone with…Carver? What sort of name was that? He even waxed his moustache, she thought. Urk.
They were all waiting for Max to reply. Pippa and thirty servants and Carver. ‘Pippa, I’m hardly going far,’ Max said reasonably. ‘I’m five minutes’ drive away. I said I’d stay in Alp d’Estella. I didn’t say I’d stay at the castle.’
He was talking to her as if she were dumb. Right, she thought. She was fine with dumb. But it was going to be dumb and stubborn. Without a word she climbed back into the car with Claire, settled the twin on the seat beside her before holding her hands out for Sophie. ‘Marc, pop back in the car, love. We’re all staying where Mr de Gautier is staying.’
Max looked taken aback. They all looked taken aback. Except Dolores who hadn’t shifted out of the car yet. ‘Pardon?’ Max demanded.
‘You heard. Where you stay, we stay.’
‘Why?’
‘Not because you kissed me,’ she muttered, lowering her voice so the assembled reception committee couldn’t hear. ‘But because this place gives me the heebie-jeebies. I’m not royal. I’m not staying here.’
