by Jessica Hart
‘I thought it was just lust.’ Caro’s pulse was pounding so hard she was sure the steps must be shaking with it.
‘There was a lot of lust,’ he agreed.
‘Or friendship.’
‘That too,’ said Philippe, lifting her hand to brush a kiss on her knuckles. ‘I missed that, Caro. I’ve never had a friend like you before. I’ve never had anyone I could just be myself with. I don’t think I knew who “myself” was until you kissed me and turned me into a frog.’
He smiled at her. ‘You made me realise that I’d been a frog all along. I didn’t lie in that profile. Maybe I do live in a palace and maybe I am a prince, but those are just trappings. Underneath, I want the same things all ordinary guys do. I want someone to come home to at the end of the day. Someone I can talk to, laugh with. Someone I can hold and who’ll hold me through bad times and the good. That’s ordinary, isn’t it?’
Caro’s heart was so full it was pressing painfully against her ribs and swelling up to block her throat. ‘It’s…amazing,’ she managed while her fingers twined around his as if they had a mind of their own.
‘I want you, Caro,’ said Philippe, his voice deep and urgent. ‘Not just someone. You. I need you there, with me.’
‘But what about your father? He’ll be so angry. And the Dowager Blanche…they won’t let you be ordinary, Philippe.’ Caro was struggling to be sensible. In her head, she had been through this so many times. ‘It’s incredible that you love me,’ she made herself say, ‘but it doesn’t change who I am, and it doesn’t change who you are. You’re still a prince and I’m never going to make a princess.’
Tenderly, Philippe pushed a curl back from her face. ‘You’re the only one who thinks so.’
‘The Dowager Blanche certainly doesn’t think so!’
‘Oh, yes, she does. She might not show it, but she likes you. She liked the way you stood up to her. Apollo might have put in a good word too, because she told me that I was a great dolt for letting you go.’
Caro’s jaw dropped. ‘Really?’
‘Really,’ said Philippe with a smile. ‘The Montlucians think you’d make a great princess, too. There’s an entire country waiting for you to come back, Caro! As for my father, he’s just pleased that I’m ready to settle down. Even Yan opened his mouth and wished me luck.’
Caro shook her head to clear her spinning mind, but Philippe misinterpreted the gesture. ‘Don’t say no!’ he said, grabbing her other hand and pulling her round to face him. ‘I know how you’ve always dreamed of an ordinary life, Caro, but why settle for ordinary when what we’ve got could be extraordinary?
‘And I don’t mean where and how we live,’ he went on with an edge of desperation. ‘I mean being together, being friends, loving each other and trusting each other and being there for each other. We’re so lucky to have found someone we can have that with. That’s what’s extraordinary.’
Caro stared at him. Philippe was right. Was she holding onto one dream because she was scared to reach for a bigger and better one?
‘Ordinary Guy sounded so perfect,’ she said slowly. ‘Exactly the man I’d always wanted.’
‘He is perfect,’ said Philippe. ‘I made damn sure he would be when I wrote that profile. I didn’t want to risk you not agreeing to meet me.’
‘I still don’t understand why you didn’t just ring. It would have been much easier.’
‘But then you’d have just come out with all that you’re-a-prince-I’m-unsuitable stuff and refused to meet me,’ he pointed out. ‘It was the only way I could think of to talk to you and make you see me not as a prince, but as the ordinary guy you’ve wanted all along.’
Caro pulled her hand from his to lay her palm against his cheek. ‘You did it very well,’ she told him. ‘I was convinced that I would never find anyone more suitable for me, and yet when I walked down here I was more depressed than I’ve ever been in my life.’
‘Depressed?’
A smile trembled on her lips. ‘Because I knew that however perfect Ordinary Guy was on paper, I’d already met the perfect man for me, and he wasn’t ordinary at all.’
Philippe let out a long breath. ‘He wouldn’t happen to be a prince, would he?’ he asked hopefully, turning his face so that he could press a kiss into her palm.
‘He would,’ said Caro. ‘When you came just now, I was crying. I’d just realised that even though he was nothing like the kind of man I thought I wanted, only he would do.’ The blue eyes filled with tears. ‘And now you’re here, and I’m so happy, I can’t believe it…’ Her voice broke.
‘Caro.’ Philippe reached for her then, pushing his hands into her hair and pulling her into him for a long, long, sweet kiss. ‘Caro, say you love me,’ he mumbled against her temple when he lifted his head at last.
‘I love you…I love you…I do,’ she stammered, incoherent with happiness.
‘Say you’ll marry me and be my princess.’
She stilled at that, knowing that this was her last chance to grasp at being sensible. Placing the flat of her hands against his chest, she held herself away from him. ‘Are you sure, Philippe?’ she said doubtfully. ‘I do love you, but we’re so different. It won’t be easy.’
‘No, it won’t be,’ said Philippe. ‘But who wants easy when they can have incredible? Yes, we’ll have to work through some tough bits, but won’t that be worth it when we see what an amazing life we can build together?’
He drew her back against him. ‘Come on, Caro, stop looking for difficulties. Just kiss me again and tell me you’ll marry me.’
Caro’s eyes were starry with happiness as she wound her arms around his neck. ‘All right,’ she said obediently. ‘I will.’
‘Ready?’ Lotty smiled as she twitched Caro’s train into place. ‘How do you feel?’
‘I can’t believe this is really happening,’ Caro confessed. Outside, she could hear the church bells ringing across the wintry city in great, joyous peals. ‘I keep thinking I must be dreaming.’
‘Then I’m in the same dream,’ said Stella, peeking out of the window. ‘Have you seen how many people there are out there? The entire population of Montluce has come to see you married, Caro!’
‘No pressure, then!’
‘You’ll be fine,’ Lotty soothed. ‘And you look incredible.’
‘Thanks to your grandmother.’ Caro smoothed down her dress with unsteady hands. Soon after she’d returned to Montluce, the Dowager had taken her aside and stiffly offered her the dress that she had worn for her own wedding fifty-five years earlier.
‘I’ve observed that you don’t wear new clothes,’ she had said. ‘But of course, if you would prefer a new designer dress, that is entirely up to you.’
But Caro had been thrilled with the dress. It was a dress fit for a princess, with full skirts, a fitted bodice and a spectacular train. Lace covered her arms and the ivory satin was sewn with seed pearls that gleamed and shimmered as she moved. It had had to be let out in places, that was true, but it felt very special to be getting married in the Dowager’s dress. Lotty’s grandmother had lent her diamond drop earrings, too, and the antique corsage tiara that held the gossamer fine veil in place.
Now it was time to go. Caro was shaking with nerves as she lifted her skirts to walk carefully down the great staircase. Philippe’s father was waiting for her at the bottom. He was an austere man, still thin from his treatment, but growing stronger every day. Caro had been pleased to see the wary relationship that was growing between father and son. As she had no father and no close male relatives, the Crown Prince had offered to give her away himself, and now he smiled at the sight of her.
‘My son is a lucky man,’ he said. ‘Come, let us go.’
A big, low limousine with wide windows waited in the courtyard, where what seemed like the entire palace staff had turned out to wish her well for her wedding. They cheered as Caro was helped into the car by a footman, and the train was piled in after her. Then Philippe’s father got in beside her.
As the car came out of the gates, another huge cheer went up from the waiting crowds. The flag at the front of the car fluttered as they drove along streets lined with smiling, waving people and the frosty air rang with bells. Caro’s throat thickened with nervousness and emotion and she gripped the bouquet of white roses so tightly her knuckles showed white.
A feeling of unreality had her in its grip, and her smile felt as if it had been fixed on her face. This couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be her, Caro Cartwright, being driven through cheering crowds to marry a prince. Any minute now, she would wake up and find that she had been dreaming.
Then they were at the cathedral, and Lotty and Stella were there to help her out of the car and pull out the train onto the red carpet. The cheers were even louder there. Caro’s smile felt more wooden than ever. She wasn’t nervous, she realised. She was terrified.
The Crown Prince offered his arm. As they entered the cathedral, the big wooden doors swung shut behind them and the trumpeters in the clerestory struck up.
Caro had an impression of a mass of people, all smiling, all staring at her. She could feel the train dragging behind her, the weight of the tiara on her head, the heavy satin skirts. The aisle seemed to go on for ever, while the music swelled. It had to be a dream.
And then she saw Philippe waiting at the altar. He was dressed in full regalia, with golden epaulettes, medals and a sash across his chest and a sword at his side, but Caro didn’t see the uniform. She saw the smile that was just for her and, all at once, the dreamlike feeling vanished, and she forgot the television cameras and the watching congregation. There was just Philippe, waiting for her, and it was real after all.
Theirs might be an extraordinary wedding, but the vows they were making were the same that every couple made, and they were real too.
When it was over, Philippe kissed her there in front of everybody, and they made their way back down the aisle. The bells were pealing and the sun glittered on the snowy rooftops as they emerged from the cathedral to cheers and whistles.
A carriage drawn by six white horses with nodding plumes waited at the bottom of the steps. Philippe and Caro smiled and waved, and then the train had to be negotiated into another vehicle, but at last they were in and they set off through the city streets lined with crowds. Caro’s arm was already aching from all the waving.
‘You’ve still got the balcony to go,’ murmured Philippe, ‘but let’s give them something else to cheer about.’ And he kissed her thoroughly, to the delight of the cheering, flag-waving crowd.
Caro was flushed and laughing when they got back to the palace. They paused for a moment to wave to the crowds once more before stepping into the cool of the marbled hall out of sight of the cameras. Even then there was no opportunity to be alone. The hall was lined with palace servants, and Caro had her first taste of how her life had changed when she was greeted with smiling bows and curtseys. Laughing, she hooked her train over her arm, and together she and Philippe climbed the staircase she had descended so nervously earlier.
The reception was to be held in the state ballroom. ‘Quick,’ said Philippe, opening a door to one of the side rooms. ‘Before the others get here!’ And he pulled Caro inside and kissed her against the door until they heard the unmistakable sounds of everyone else arriving.
‘I suppose we can’t skip out on our own wedding,’ he said regretfully, letting her go at last.
‘Careful of the Dowager’s dress!’ Blushing, Caro patted her hair and wondered if it was going to be obvious to everyone what they’d been doing. She hadn’t put up much of a protest. ‘Now I need to redo my make-up. Agnès will kill me!’
‘She can’t be cross with you now. You’re a princess,’ said Philippe. ‘Besides, you look beautiful.’ He studied her critically for a moment before straightening her tiara. ‘There, you’re ready to go again.’
He stayed by her side as they moved through the throng of guests. Caro smiled and kissed endless cheeks, but all the time she was acutely aware of Philippe, of his touch on her back, his hand on hers, his arm at her waist.
Outside, she was vaguely aware of chanting, but it was only when the doors were thrown open and she and Philippe stepped out onto the balcony to a roar of approval that Caro realised how many people were gathered outside waiting to see them. The sheer number and noise of the crowd made her gasp.
The view down over the mass of fluttering Montluce flags was dizzying.
‘Philippe,’ she said, turning to him with her heart in her eyes. ‘I’ve just had a revelation.’
‘I hope that it’s how much you love me?’ said Philippe, waving at the crowds.
Caro slid her hand into his. ‘All those years I longed for a place to belong, and I never dreamt I would feel that I did on a palace balcony! But it isn’t about a place,’ she realised wonderingly. ‘It’s about being with you.’
‘Quite right.’ Philippe grinned and pulled her into him for a kiss while the crowd roared and cheered and whistled and waved flags below. ‘This is where you belong, Caro. Right here in my arms.’
‘I’ve found my frog at last,’ she sighed happily.
Philippe watched her turn to wave and smile at her new subjects, and he held her hand tight in his. ‘And I’ve found my princess,’ he said.
ISBN: 978-1-4592-0575-8
ORDINARY GIRL IN A TIARA
First North American Publication 2011
Copyright © 2011 by Jessica Hart
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Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
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