by Amy Ruttan
She was riding in a chauffeur-driven car, sitting next to a prince. It was an object lesson in how dramatically things could change in so little time.
‘I gather you have a strong tradition of attracting the best musicians.’ She smiled in response to Hugo DeLeon’s indication of the Montarino Opera House, and the car obligingly slowed to allow her a more detailed look.
‘We like to think that we can hold our own with the rest of Europe when it comes to our appreciation of the arts. You do know a little about Montarino, then?’
Anyone could use the Internet. Although Nell had to admit that the photographs didn’t do the grand building justice. Its sweeping, modern lines, rising from the tree-lined plaza that surrounded it, would have made it a landmark in the greatest of cities.
‘Only as much as I could read in the last couple of days. In between packing.’ Nell wondered whether he’d mind that she hadn’t even known where Montarino was before she’d taken this job. It had just been a name, tethered somewhere at the back of her mind, along with a lot of other places that she knew nothing about.
Hugo nodded, smiling. ‘That’s one of the best things about living here. Most people have few preconceptions, and so we have the chance to attempt to surprise our visitors.’
And it seemed that Hugo DeLeon was giving it his best shot. Nell had been told that he was a doctor as well as a prince, and that her advice would be a matter of reinforcing a message that he was already well aware of. In other words, he reckoned that the physical limits that applied to ordinary people weren’t for the likes of a prince, and he needed to be kept in check.
Nell had no idea in which direction they were supposed to be going, but she was aware that the car seemed to be taking a circuitous route past a number of notable buildings, all of which Hugo was intent on pointing out. If he thought that was going to deflect her from her purpose, he was wrong.
‘I’m looking forward to seeing the palace.’ She smiled brightly, wondering whether he’d take the hint.
‘We’re nearly there now.’ Hugo raised his voice a little. ‘Jean-Pierre...’
The driver nodded, turning smoothly onto a wide, straight boulevard and putting his foot on the gas. It seemed that everyone here responded to Hugo’s every word, which was the first challenge attached to this new appointment.
The ambassador, who had interviewed her at the embassy in London, had said little but implied a lot. He’d got her medical qualifications and the fact that she spoke French tolerably well out of the way in the first five minutes. Then he’d turned the conversation around to her patient.
‘Hugo DeLeon, Crown Prince of Montarino, can be...’ The ambassador had paused slightly before coming to a conclusion about how to describe it. ‘He can be self-willed.’
Nell had read arrogant into his words and had smiled politely. She had experience of dealing with all kinds of patients, and self-willed wasn’t a problem. Neither was arrogant.
What the ambassador hadn’t warned her about was his smile. It was polite, appropriate, and yet it seemed to hold real warmth. His high cheekbones lent a touch of class, and his shock of dark blonde hair, no doubt artfully arranged to make it appear slightly tousled, added a boyish note. Green eyes gave a hint that Hugo DeLeon was capable of some pretty serious mischief. Nell would have to watch out for those eyes.
But however handsome he was, however his smile made her stomach quiver, Nell had a job to do. Her fingers tightened on the strap of her handbag, which lay comfortingly across her knees. A man had gotten between her and her job before, and no one, not even this handsome prince, was going to do it again.
* * *
White knuckles. Hugo was used to looking for the little signs that told him what people were really thinking, and he’d noticed that Nell was clutching her handbag on her lap like some kind of defensive weapon. Despite the firm tone and the clear hints that he shouldn’t have come to the airport, there was a chink in her armour. One that he may well need to find and exploit if it turned out that the restrictions she placed on him got in the way of his current plans.
They’d driven through the grounds of the palace and the car stopped at the ceremonial entrance to allow them to get out. She gave the high, pillared archways a glance and then turned to him as the car moved smoothly away.
‘My luggage...’
‘Jean-Pierre will arrange for it to be taken up to your apartment.’ A sudden flare of panic had shown in Nell’s eyes, and Hugo almost felt sorry for her. But keeping her a little off-balance, a little over-awed was exactly what he wanted.
‘Right. Thank you.’
‘Perhaps I can show you around.’ The palace was big enough and grand enough to disorientate her even further.
‘I think that’s best left for some other time.’ She was as sweet-smelling and soft as a summer’s day, but there was no getting over the determination behind it all. ‘This...apartment. I was told that it would be next door to yours.’
‘Yes, it is.’ If Hugo had had any say in the matter, he’d have put her on the other side of the building, but he hadn’t. His father didn’t often step into his life, but when he did, he did it thoroughly.
‘With a connecting door?’
So someone had told her about that, too. Or maybe she’d asked. Hugo had rather hoped that he could just keep the connecting door closed and that it would never occur to anyone to open it.
‘Yes, that’s right. It’s generally kept locked...’ Finding the key was an easy enough matter on the rare occasions that he brought a girlfriend with him to stay at the palace for a few days, but he was sure he could just as easily lose it.
‘I imagine someone has the key. Being a doctor yourself, you’ll understand the need to have access to your patient.’
‘And I’m sure you’ll understand where your duties begin and end.’ Since the pleasantries didn’t seem to be working all that well, it was obviously time to make things clear.
‘The ambassador outlined them, yes.’ She pressed her lips together and Hugo imagined that the British Ambassador had deployed all of the expected diplomacy in the matter. ‘The King’s letter of appointment, on the other hand, was a little less circumspect.’
Great. So his father had decided that he needed to weigh in on that as well. And even if the tiny quiver at the side of Nell’s mouth told Hugo that she was feeling over-awed and nervous, her cool gaze indicated that she wasn’t going to let that stop her from doing her job.
‘Perhaps we should talk, over some tea.’ Since deflection wasn’t working, maybe negotiation would. The next step would be outright battle, and Hugo would prefer to avoid that.
‘Yes. I think that would be a very good idea.’
Copyright © 2018 by Annie Claydon
ISBN-13: 9781488079849
A Date with Dr. Moustakas
First North American Publication 2018
Copyright © 2018 by Amy Ruttan
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