“How are things going?” Dahlia asked.
“Better, but at times it’s a lot.”
Andres had relaxed his restrictions, so she had a phone now. And while she thought she might be bored without the challenges of a career to occupy her time, she quickly learned there were other challenges that awaited her if she were to marry him. She would join him in managing The Crown’s income-generating properties and their business interests here and abroad. As the country’s top diplomats, they would travel to other countries to build relationships and act as hosts when top-ranking dignitaries came to their shores. She would also join Andres on various charitable boards, and while his main projects involved the environment, she was expected to find a cause of her own to champion.
There were quite a few “rules” she’d have to follow, too. She could no longer use a cell phone in public nor was she allowed to complain about being sick. She’d simply have to suck it up until she was able to privately speak to her aides or one of the palace physicians. She had to learn Spanish, so two days ago a tutor arrived to schedule her lessons, along with an etiquette coach to get her up to speed on royal protocol.
She and Andres went horseback riding so he could show her the land and took a helicopter ride to the eastern end of the island where they witnessed otters frolicking in the waves. She went to the palace library several hours a day to read about the history of the country and walked the grounds to not only stretch her legs but learn her way around. One day while Andres was tied up in meetings, she went on a short trip into the capital city and visited the harbor where the cargo ships and ferries came in from the mainland.
“I understand the ‘it’s a lot’ part. I was scared, terrified, at how much I had to learn and worried that I’d screw up, embarrass myself and cause irreparable harm to the royal family.” Dahlia laughed softly. “It’s not easy being under this type of scrutiny, but my advice is to not stress too much, and lean on Andres. He’s lived in this world his entire life.
“I have a full staff to support me, but more than anything, learning the ropes is made easier because of Kofi. Not only does he understand this life, but he works hard to make sure that I fit in and understand my role. If you don’t have that with Andres, it’s going to make fitting in harder. You have to know that he’s supportive of you, and you have to be a team or the relationship won’t work. Yes, you have access to vast amounts of wealth and power, but that life is also very isolating because you can’t come and go as you please, and you have to adhere to royal protocol and other rules and regulations that will blow your mind. But if you and Andres are in this together, the way that Kofi and I are, then it will be so much easier. And it could potentially strengthen your love.”
“Thanks, I needed that. I do have Andres’s support, which is wonderful. But in our case, it might not be enough. I wish I knew what his grandfather was thinking. What if I go through all of this training and he still doesn’t approve of us getting married?”
“You haven’t met him yet?”
“No,” Angela replied glumly.
During all this time, she had expected to be summoned to meet Prince Felipe but hadn’t been. She remained patient but anxious. Did his grandfather not want to meet her at all, or was he just busy? Andres wouldn’t say, and she hid her concern from him. If his grandfather, the man he most admired in the world, didn’t sign off on their wedding, then it wouldn’t happen.
Angela settled lower in the tub, letting her head rest against the waterproof pillow behind her. “I’m worried,” she admitted. “I’m afraid he’ll never agree to us getting married, and then what?”
“Aren’t they supposed to be the rebel kingdom of Europe?”
“They’re not that rebellious,” Angela said dryly. “And I get the impression Prince Felipe is staunchly conservative and believes in following custom.”
Dahlia paused for several seconds before replying. “How much have you been exposed to the media while you’re there?”
“What do you mean?”
“Do you have access to newspapers and magazines? Have you seen the news?”
Angela thought for a minute. “Now that you mention it, I haven’t seen any papers since I’ve been here. I’ve been so busy I haven’t paid much attention to the news, and everything is in Spanish anyway, so I have no idea what they’re saying. Why?”
Dahlia fell silent again.
A knot of dread settled in the pit of Angela’s stomach. “Hey, you’re making me nervous,” she said with a little laugh. “Is there something I should know?”
“I don’t want to cause you to worry, but yes, there is something you should know.”
“Is it my sister again? Andres sent people to talk to her and my parents.”
Andres had sent several aides to look into the leak about her pregnancy and the disparaging remarks made about Angela. They discovered that her sister had indeed been the “source.” The visit with her parents was to get them ready for the wedding to come and the interest their marriage would generate in the general public. The conversation with Rebecca was to see how to put a stop to her making any more remarks about Angela to the press. A large amount of money and an ironclad NDA that threatened her with harsh legal consequences had been used to shut down her sister. Sad that her own sister hadn’t been thoughtful enough to keep quiet on her own.
“Listen, I’m going to send you some English-language newspapers and magazines. We’re best friends, and you should know what’s being said about you,” Dahlia said quietly.
“It’s bad, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but remember what I said. You and Andres are a team. Lean on him and you’ll work through it together.”
“If we were a team, he would have told me what you’re telling me now.”
“He’s probably trying to protect you.”
Angela sighed. “Yeah.” He’d said he would protect her, but if protecting her meant keeping her in the dark about what was happening around her, she didn’t want that kind of protection. “How soon can you send me the papers?”
“Give me a few days.”
“Thanks.”
Four hundred years ago, European powers took Miss Lipscomb’s ancestors from the shores of the dark continent as human cargo. Today, she’s carrying the most valuable cargo there is—the heir to the throne of a European principality. How times have changed!
We expected a political alliance with a Swedish noblewoman or a Spanish princess. Instead, we have an American with an exotic bloodline.
Is Prince Andres now a baby daddy? While the palace refuses to confirm or deny the rumors that Miss Lipscomb is pregnant, sources tell us…
As the first non-white person to marry into the House of Vasquez, Miss Lipscomb has made quite the catch. Less than one hundred years ago, she would have been Prince Andres’s bed wench. Today, she is about to marry into one of Europe’s oldest monarchies.
¡Mierda! Andres tossed another newspaper onto his desk with an angry growl. “What the hell is going on in this country?” he demanded of his secretary, Ronaldo.
Every morning, the balding man practically quivered when he brought in the daily news. Over the past week and half, the headlines had become more and more inflammatory.
“Has she seen any of these?” Andres asked.
“I’m not sure, Your Highness,” Ronaldo replied, looking decidedly uncomfortable as he shifted from one foot to the other.
If she did, at least she couldn’t read Spanish and wouldn’t know the depth of the ugliness leveled at her.
“This is unacceptable. We will shut them down. Every one of the newspapers.”
Ronaldo cleared his throat. “I understand your concerns, but—”
“My concerns?” He held up one of the papers. “These filthy rags are tearing her apart and showing blatant racism. They accuse her of “marrying up,” allegedly the same way that her mother did. They accuse her and her mother of being adept at climbing the social ladder. And what about this one, that refers to
her exotic bloodline? I want names. I want these so-called reporters brought up on charges and these goddamn newspapers shut down!” He shook with rage. He hadn’t expected the attacks to have such racial undertones. What era were they in? The seventeen hundreds?
“Your Highness, do you mean to revoke the right to freedom of speech and eliminate freedom of the press? They have always been free to criticize the royal family. Is that no longer the case?”
He was used to negative comments in the press. Not everyone agreed with every decision the monarchy made, but this—this was downright abusive. Andres crumpled the paper in his hands and tossed it in the trash. He stalked aimlessly across the room to release the pent-up anger.
“You can ignore them or issue a strongly worded rebuke. While that is unprecedented, it will demonstrate that the palace does not condone these articles or what the television reporters have said. And they’re not all bad. If you look inside that one”—Ronaldo pointed—“you’ll see they think it’s good that you’re marrying a commoner and someone who doesn’t have royal lineage. They think she’ll be good for our country and shake things up from the norm. Get us away from centuries-old traditions and bring us into the twenty-first century.”
All of the negativity could be damn near eliminated if his grandfather would give his approval of the marriage, but Andres hadn’t been able to convince him to change his mind yet.
He rested his bottom on the edge of the desk. “I want a statement drawn up immediately. Before the end of the day because I want to send a clear message—before the end of the day—that these headlines, these articles, all of it, are nothing but harassment. Am I clear?”
“Yes, Your Highness. I will talk to the communications director right away.” He scurried toward the door.
“And Ronaldo, make sure she doesn’t see any of these. Is that understood? She doesn’t speak Spanish yet, but she might be able to figure out what they’re writing about her.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
After Ronaldo left, Andres let out a worried breath. Was he doing the right thing? He felt he was, because he’d promised to protect Angela, and that’s what he was doing. He found the articles troubling, but they would be extremely painful to her, and the last thing he wanted was for her to feel pain.
He only hoped he was making the right decision.
28
Andres entered The Cream Room. Inside was dark because the heavy curtains on the windows were closed except for the one window that Angela sat in front of. The old chair had been moved into this room after his mother left. It was tan with ornate gold trim around the back of the seat. Angela sat ramrod straight as she stared out at the ocean. As Andres came closer, he noted the stack of magazines and newspapers on her lap, and his heart dropped.
Closing his eyes briefly, he wished for the right words to make whatever she was feeling go away. He continued forward on lead feet and dragged another chair catty corner to her. He sat down and watched her profile for a moment, not knowing what to say. He’d issued a strongly worded statement before the end of the day but didn’t know if that was enough to fix the problem.
Angela turned to face him, and his heart wrenched when he saw her tear-streaked face. The cool calm he’d entered with was left frayed and tattered in the wake of the pain in her brown eyes. He couldn’t fathom what she must be going through, and knowing he was the cause of it devastated him.
She tossed the magazines and newspapers to the floor. They were all in English, and the headlines were much the same as the ones published in Estoria.
“You shouldn’t read those,” he said quietly.
“I shouldn’t, but I guess I’m a glutton for punishment.”
“I’ll take care of it. I’ll make them stop.”
She gave a short laugh and looked away a spell before returning her gaze to him. Hurt swam in her eyes, and he wanted to gather her close and protect her. He reached for her, but she withdrew, her gaze accusatory.
“How? Some are quoting articles from Estoria, while others are simply stating what people in other countries think. Can you stop the press in every country, Andres? No, you can’t.” She swiped away the tears from her cheeks. “Is this what you wanted?”
“No,” Andres replied in the same quiet voice.
“You sure? Because you don’t seem to care about anyone or anything except what you want. This is the result of your need to have me and your child.” She pointed at the periodicals on the floor. “This is the result of your need to force me to marry you.”
The heat of shame burned his skin.
“I told you our relationship couldn’t work. I can’t do this, Andres. I love you, but I can’t stay here and I can’t marry you.”
Panicked gripped his insides. “Angela—”
“I won’t. And you can’t make me.”
“I will make this right. I love you.”
“Don’t. Don’t say that,” she said with an aggrieved expression, as if expressing his love caused her physical pain.
Their gazes locked, and silence filled the space between them.
Finally, Angela stood. She clasped her hands before her. “Your people don’t want me.”
Andres stood, as well. “They need time to get used to the idea.”
“Do you really think I care? How could you think this would work? What kind of support are you prepared to give?”
“Whatever you need.” How she could she doubt that he was ready and willing to give her anything and everything?
She shook her head. “Let me go, Andres.”
“And if I can’t?”
“You can do whatever you want, and that includes letting me go home. Don’t make me stay where I’m not wanted. Your grandfather hasn’t approved this marriage and you know as well as I do that he won’t. Admit that it’s over. We can’t be together, and if you don’t find a wife soon, Estoria risks losing its autonomy and going back to Portugal.”
This time when he reached for her, she didn’t withdraw, but she didn’t put her arms around him like she always did. She stood stiff, but he pretended not to notice. One hand cupped the back of her head, and the other arm wound around her waist and held her close. “I need more time.”
She shook her bowed head. “You want me to leave everything behind to be with you—my country, my job, my family—for you. I thought I could do it, but I can’t. Not for this.” Her voice thickened with tears and she looked at him with watery eyes. “What have you given up? What have you sacrificed? Nothing. Let me go, Andres. You can’t have everything you want. It’s time you learned that.”
She stepped back and his arms fell away. For the first time he could remember, he hated his lot in life and hated that with all the power and money in his possession, he could not have the woman he most desired.
Neither of them spoke as all the hopelessness of their situation remained like a festering wound between them. There was so much Andres wanted to say, but there was no point in saying any of it. No point in telling her his mood shifted and changed with hers, the same way the moon controlled the rise and fall of the tide. Her pain was his pain. Her joy was his joy. Now his life would be emotionless and luster-less.
No point in explaining how much he loved and adored her and would do anything to make her happy. Because she was right. His grandfather hadn’t given approval for them to marry, and without his approval, there were going to be more hurtful articles and inflammatory headlines. To put her through any more pain would be an act of selfishness he couldn’t tolerate in himself.
He twisted the gold signet ring on his middle finger, engraved with the shield of the House of Vasquez. This life was not her destiny, it was his. His destiny had been set before he was even born.
“I will make arrangements for you to leave tomorrow.”
Tears shimmered in her eyes. “Thank you.”
He came to her and cradled her face in his hands. “I tried,” he said thickly.
“I know,” she said in a broken whisper.
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Her lower lip trembled, and he pressed a soft kiss to her mouth.
“No matter who I marry, you will always be the love of my life.”
She closed her eyes and a tear tracked down her left cheek. He brushed it away with his thumb and rested his forehead against hers.
“One of my aides will be in touch to make arrangements about…about the child.” It pained him to have to say those words, to know that he would be a long-distance father to a child who he wanted to grow up under his supervision, love, and care.
Angela nodded her head in understanding, her lower lip trembling once again.
“Goodbye, mi amor.”
With one final glance at the dreaded periodicals scattered on the floor, he left the room. He took the long walk down the hall to his own bedroom. He’d spent most nights with Angela since her arrival, but he couldn’t do it tonight. Not knowing that she’d leave him for good tomorrow.
He shut the door and walked in the dark to his bed. He thought about the lackluster future he had to look forward to, without Angela and the child who was a product of their love. He dropped onto the side of the bed.
He’d never known pain like this. His father’s rejection and his mother’s departure had hurt, but his grandfather’s love had soothed the agony of losing both of his parents at such a young age. This pain felt like he was splitting in two, and no one could soothe him or diminish its effect. He didn’t want anyone else.
Knees to elbows, he buried his face in his hands. He’d lost her again, and this time it was truly over.
Tonight was the lowest point of his life.
29
He wasn’t coming.
Standing at the open door of the limo in the private parking lot behind the palace, Angela searched the windows for a glimpse of Andres. She’d hoped to see him one last time, but he was nowhere to be found.
Princess of Estoria (Royal Brides Book 2) Page 16
