‘That’s ridiculous. You don’t need to be royal to stay.’
‘Neither do you have to be a commoner to go. But if you’re going, then I’m going. You got me here under false pretences.’
‘I didn’t.’
‘You did.’ She glanced again at the rows of servants and she quailed. There wasn’t much that spooked Pippa Donohue, but she was spooked now. She hugged Sophie too hard, and the child muttered a sleepy protest. ‘Max, I mean what I say,’ she said, trying not to sound belligerent. Trying to sound matter-of-fact. ‘Hush, Sophie, we’re nearly home. Max says it’s just five minutes’ drive away.’
Max stared down at her, baffled. ‘You have to stay here.’
‘You’re going to make me, how?’
‘It’s ridiculous.’
‘It is, isn’t it?’ she agreed. ‘You said you’d stay.’
‘I didn’t.’
‘If you didn’t then it’s semantics and you tricked me. I don’t like being tricked.’
‘Pippa, I can’t stay here.’
‘Then neither can we.’ She looked behind him. ‘You know, everyone’s listening to this. It’s pretty undignified, don’t you think? If I were you I’d come to a decision, and there’s only one decision to reach.’
‘I don’t want to stay in this place,’ he told her. He’d tried to make his voice matter-of-fact, but it didn’t work. She heard a tinge of desperation behind it, and it almost moved her. But then Pippa glanced down at the child in her arms, at Marc who was looking confused, at Claire on the seat beside her and at Dolores at her feet.
Then she looked at Moustache. She didn’t know why but Carver Levout made her nervous and she had nothing to go on here but her instincts. She was responsible for this little family. She couldn’t afford to be swayed by Max’s desperation.
‘If there are reasons you can’t stay here, then they hold true for us all,’ she whispered. ‘If I’d known you were afraid to stay then I’d never have agreed to come.’
‘I’m not afraid.’
‘Then what are you?’
‘I just…hate it.’
‘That’s just as bad.’
‘Pippa-’
‘It’s only stone and wood and thirty or so servants. Oh, and I hear tell it has three swimming pools. So if it’s not scary, it might be fun.’
‘But Thierry…’ He stopped short. His brother’s name was an involuntary exclamation, Pippa thought, and she wondered why.
‘Where does Thierry come into this?’
‘He doesn’t.’ He pressed his lips closed as though that was the end of the matter. She stared up at him for a moment and then thought maybe that was a plan. She pressed her own lips together and looked straight ahead.
Standoff.
She hadn’t counted on Sophie. She’d stirred into wakefulness in Pippa’s arms, wriggled until she could see and she’d looked beyond Max to the castle. ‘We’re here,’ she said sleepily. ‘It’s just like my picture books. But bigger. Why aren’t we getting out of the car? Claire, Claire, wake up.’
Right on cue Claire woke. ‘We’re here?’ she demanded. ‘We’re at the castle?’
‘Yes, but Pippa won’t let us stay,’ Marc said, trying to figure it out. ‘’Cos Max won’t stay and she’s scared of all these people.’
‘She’s not scared,’ Max said shortly. ‘She’s just pigheaded.’
‘There’s two of us being pigheaded,’ she told him. ‘And I’m not backing down.’
‘Hell, Pippa-’
‘You stay or we go.’
‘You could all go.’ It was Carver, standing behind them, listening intently.
‘We’re all staying,’ Max snapped.
She stared at him. She’d won, she thought, but it didn’t feel like winning. What was it that he was afraid of?
But Carver was waiting. He had to have an answer, and she wasn’t going to let him see she was rattled. ‘Then that’s settled,’ she said smoothly. ‘Okay, we all need to be introduced. Sophie, you take one of Max’s hands and, Claire, you take the other. Marc, you walk in front. You guys go along the row of people here and find out who everyone is.’
‘You need to be introduced too,’ said Marc.
‘I’m not royal,’ Pippa said. ‘I’ll come up behind and bow and scrape to anyone above second footman.’
‘This isn’t a joke,’ Max snapped.
‘It’s not,’ she agreed, but she smiled. Only she knew the effort it cost her. ‘But neither is it Greek tragedy. Let’s make this fun, Max. Let’s go.’
Max had no intention of making it fun. He was stiffly formal, right up until they were shown the nursery and left alone.
‘You rest,’ he said. ‘I’ll see you at dinner.’
‘If you leave the palace, then we’re out of here, even if we have to walk,’ Pippa warned him, still trying to sound pigheaded but suspecting she just sounded intimidated. Liveried footmen had deposited their sad-looking luggage in a dressing room big enough to hold clothes for a small army. A couple of maids were unpacking. At the thought of the scant possessions they were unpacking Pippa felt like sinking.
She shouldn’t be clutching at Max, she thought, but she had no choice. He was her lifeline to her other life.
‘You’ve made that clear,’ Max said stiffly. ‘But the children need rest and so do I. I’ll see you at dinner.’
‘Um, don’t leave me,’ she muttered but he was already turning away.
She was alone. With three kids and two maids and a dog.
There was too much to think of here. All she wanted to think of was Max. She wanted to run after him. She’d hurt him by insisting he stayed here, she thought, but what was she to do?
The casual friendliness was gone, replaced by a stiff formality she couldn’t understand.
Where was the man who had kissed her?
She couldn’t run after him, and she had to forget the kiss. That was just a dopey thing to do in the dark on the plane, she told herself, but there was a part of her that was saying it was no such thing. It wasn’t just a kiss.
Yes, it was.
Whatever, she told herself harshly. There was no time for wondering about Max now.
They were in a vast school-room-cum-sitting room, with desks at one end and huge settees around a fire at the other end. It was hardly cold enough to warrant a fire, but Dolores headed straight to it and Pippa looked at the logs piled high at the side with longing. If she could transport those to Tanbarook…
What else? There were doors leading off the main room, and the kids were opening them. They led to individual bedrooms, each with a massive four-poster bed.
‘Wow,’ said Marc. He approached the first bed with caution. It was six feet or more across and almost three feet high, hung with crimson velvet and gold brocade. Marc clambered up and tugged the twins up to join him.
The three kids wriggled into the pile of pillows mounded against the bed head, like puppies exploring a new basket. ‘It’s really soft,’ Sophie called wonderingly, giving a tentative bounce. ‘Pippa, will you sleep here with us?’
‘Sure,’ she said.
‘Excuse me, miss,’ one of the maids-the oldest one?-said, in tentative English.
‘I speak your language,’ Pippa said, trying out her language skills. To her delight it seemed to work. The woman’s face relaxed a little and she reverted. ‘Well, then…Mr Levout said we were to show you to the bedroom at the end of this wing.’
‘I’m not sure why Mr Levout thinks it’s important, but I’m sleeping here.’
There was a touch of hand-wringing at that. It seemed an effort to say it, but the woman finally succeeded. ‘Mr
