“Were they in love? King Leo and Queen Isabel?”
Mrs. Dolevitt frowned as though she hadn’t understood the question. “It doesn’t work like that with royalty. Their marriage was arranged when they were children. They got on well. I never saw them argue. King Leo consulted her often on decisions, very modern of him. He grieved when she passed. But it’s time he remarries.”
“I suppose that will be arranged?” Esme asked.
“King Leo will do his own choosing this time.”
Finally, they reached their destination. Mrs. Dolevitt turned the lock on an ancient looking door. “This is the old nursery. It hasn’t been used since King Leo and Prince Alex were little ones.”
Though it may not have been in use for years, a ruckus sounded from the adjoining room.
“Sorry,” said Mrs. Dolevitt. “Some of the royal guests are using the other room as a day care.”
“Are the children unattended?” Esme asked going over to the adjoining door. Before Mrs. Dolevitt could answer, Esme had already pulled the door open. It wasn’t exactly chaos on the other side. Just disorganized confusion.
Candies and chips were set up on a table. Juice boxes were lined up like soldiers, a few boxes had spilled onto the floor. The kids were running around and squealing as though they’d been let loose for the first time in their lives.
“There are no nannies or governesses on the property,” said Mrs. Dolevitt. “Princess Penelope has only tutors. The child is quite happy to spend much of her days sitting in her father’s office while he works. She’s never needed much looking after. She prefers to learn all day.”
Esme spied Penelope sitting in a corner with a book as the chaos ensued around her. Jan turned back into the room. Kids weren’t the baker’s forte. But Esme was in her element. Esme took a step into the nursery.
There were five children gathered in the room including Penelope. They were a United Color of Benetton ad with skin hues that circled the globe. Esme supposed that was because this country was so diverse.
“Did you hear that?” Esme said loud enough over the din of noise. All young eyes looked up at her. Penelope put down her book. “I think a dragon is trying to enter the castle.”
“There’s no such thing as dragons,” said a little boy with jet black hair and eyes just as dark.
As if on cue the clanging sound of pipes rattled the room. The children gasped and looked about.
Esme pursed her lips and shrugged. “If you say so.” She turned to go back into her room. The clanking sounded again.
“Oh, no,” a second boy exclaimed. His green eyes went wide as he looked at the walls. “There’s a dragon in the walls. What do we do?”
“Tell our parents,” said a blonde-haired girl that was about Penelope’s age.
“No need to bother them,” Esme replied. “Adults can’t see or hear dragons. Only kids can.”
“But you hear it,” said the dark-haired boy.
“Because I’m around kids all day,” said Esme. “So, I have special powers.”
“Who are you?” asked the green-eyed boy.
“She’s the kindergarten teacher from America,” Penelope offered, as though announcing Esme at a grand ball.
“A kindergarten teacher?” said the dark-haired boy. “What’s that?”
“It’s an American type of teacher,” Penelope answered.
“I have tutors,” announced the boy with the green eyes. “I’ve never met one.”
“You’re from America?” asked the blonde-haired girl. “Where the streets are gold?”
Esme nodded. “Dragons love gold, which is why I know so much about them. I’ve come here undercover as a baker’s assistant. But my true job is a dragon hunter. Isn’t that right, your highness?”
Esme wasn’t sure if Penelope would play along. To her surprise, the little princess put down her book and nodded.
“Perhaps the dragon is in the dungeons?” said Penelope.
“Perha-wait?” Esme jerked to attention. “You have real, live dungeons here?”
Penelope nodded enthusiastically. “Down at the bottom of the castle. It’s a ways away.”
Perfect. All part of Esme’s master plan. “Take the lead, your royal highness. We’re going dragon hunting.”
Chapter Nineteen
A king’s work was never done. After his trip abroad to strengthen diplomatic relationships and brag a bit about his country’s successes, Leo hit the ground running back on his home turf. Or rather, he hit the ground shoveling.
Groundbreaking and ribbon cutting were mainstays of his job. He shoveled already-loosened soil at a groundbreaking for a new, state-of-the-art retirement home for veterans. He snipped the ribbon at the entryway to a new wing named in his late wife’s honor at a recreational center for underprivileged kids. He attended a luncheon hosted by two land barons whose families first discovered there was oil off the coast of Cordoba. He stopped briefly at an agricultural show and waved. He drove by the new railway station opening that would connect the east side of the country with the northwest, and he waved.
Before heading back to the palace, he stopped at the House of Commons and took tea with the Prime Minister. Cordoba had a House of Commons, where officials were elected, and a House of Lords, where lords were all men and women of titles. Unlike in the British Parliament, the Lords were all hereditary. But the two houses had to work together in order to implement new laws.
The current Prime Minister was a working-class young man who’d made his fortune in technology. Leo admired him greatly and often chose to sit with him and not speak a word of politics. This was one of those days. Once he’d reached the bottom of his tea cup, Leo said his goodbyes to the Prime Minister and hopped into his town car to head for home.
It had been a grueling day. Leo was looking forward to resting his voice and his facial muscles from all the smiling, folding his hands in his lap and letting them rest from all the waving, and closing his eyes where he could lose himself in a daydream of damsels and dragons and sweet cookies. Unfortunately, those dreams would have to wait.
“You know for someone supported by taxes and a massive family fortune from centuries of hoarding, you are the hardest working man I know.”
“Where is security when you need it,” moaned Leo.
His grin resurfaced, he reached out his hand and clasped his palm to his oldest friend, Omar, the Marquis of Navarre.
“I saw the car and decided to catch a ride to tonight’s state dinner,” said Omar. He brushed some stray strands out of his eyes. His dark hair and sunburned coloring made the man look more like a desert sheik who’d been dropped into western civilization.
“I thought you were out of the country on business?”
Omar was one of the hottest entertainment producers in Europe. He didn’t need to work. He just loved the job.
“Just got back last night. Wouldn’t miss Union Day. Besides, it seems the most interesting drama is going on on our home front. I hear you met a special lady in the States.”
Leo did close his eyes. And there was her face. Round like a heart. Huge brown eyes shining back at him. A smile he ached to taste, but already knew it would be sweeter than the cookies she baked him.
He could deny it, but Daniel and Omar had always been able to see right through him. Leo slumped back in his seat and sighed. “It’s impossible.”
“She said no?”
“No. I can’t say yes. Even though I’ve never felt this way before. We are royals. We aren’t made to feel all these emotions and butterflies.” He sat forward, waving his hands in agitation. “You know, I always thought that was just a silly expression.”
“Having feelings?”
“What? No, the butterflies in your stomach. It’s real. There is something fluttering in my stomach. And I see stars, and I’m spouting poetry. But she’s all wrong for me. She lives in a fairytale world where princes come to the rescue. I’m a king with real responsibilities. She wouldn’t fit in my world. The p
artnership would benefit no one. She has no connections.”
“Why do I get the feeling we’re not talking about Lady Teresa of Almodovar?”
Omar leaned against the opposite car door and regarded Leo. Leo turned away from his friend. His hand rubbed at the back of his neck, then it scrubbed over his face. But he couldn’t hide from his friend.
“I never thought I’d see the day,” the marquis said. “You’re smitten.”
“Why do people keep saying that?”
“Saying what? That you’re smitten?”
“No, that they never believed I could be. That I never could …” He let the sentence trail off. He couldn’t say he’d fallen in love. That was too far. “It’s like my closest friends see me as some cold automaton.”
“Because you are a cold automaton in this aspect of your life. It’s always been duty first with you, even when we were children. I assumed your heart was mechanical, running on the fumes of your conquering ancestors. But, look,” Omar leaned forward, opening his eyes with wide with exaggerated disbelief, “you’re a real boy after all.”
Leo reached over and punched his friend in the shoulder.
Omar only laughed at the jab. He knew he’d struck home. “Who is this Geppetto?”
Leo clenched his lips tight. He couldn’t speak her name, or else the butterflies would be set loose into the world.
“She must be a new and recent addition to our circle,” Omar began to deduce. “But you said she had no connections? A commoner?”
Leo looked out the window. It was the only way he could think to give away nothing to his friend who saw everything, more than he ever let on. An automaton?
Leo had intended to ignore his friend for the remainder of the car ride. Luckily, when he looked out the window, he saw they were pulling through the gates of the palace. As they angled around back, Leo saw that there was some kind of commotion in the gardens.
A small crowd had gathered. There were mainly children, a few staff members, and other adults. They all stood around the decapitated head of what once was a stone dragon statue.
“What’s this?” Leo asked as he approached the group. His feet stopped when Esme broke from the crowd.
He’d had every intention of avoiding her over the next few days. He hadn’t even made it past the first day. Her hair was loose. Her cheeks were flushed. Her eyes were bright. Set against the backdrop of his green gardens she looked every bit the picture of a damsel in distress.
“It’s my fault,” said Esme. “We were playing a game, and it got a little out of hand.”
“I thought it was a real dragon,” said the dark-haired boy. He was the Viscount of Jucar’s son. “I tried to slay it. I was trying to save the gala.”
Esme got down and hugged the child who was close to tears. “You were a brave and valiant knight.”
“He’s no knight. He’s a future viscount.” The child’s father pulled his boy away and glared between his heir and Esme. “It was reckless and unbecoming of one of nobility.”
“He’s just a child,” said Esme.
“No, you little chit. He’s of noble blood, and he can’t behave in such a way. You’ll do well to not speak so forwardly to your betters.”
“That’s enough,” said Leo, his tired voice boomed loud enough to be heard in the turrets. “I’ll have you know, Jucar, that Ms. Picket is an honored guest of mine.”
Jucar’s molars ground. His eyes cast down from his king, but they still burned a hole straight through Esme. He bowed his head to Leo. “We’ll pay for the damage, of course.”
“No,” said Esme. “It was my fault. I’ll pay for it.”
“No one’s paying for anything,” said Leo. “It was already in need of repair. I’ll take care of it. Everyone can go back to their business or their play.”
The Viscount practically cuffed his son as he stormed off. The staff pretended not to see as they dispersed. The other children trailed off, including Penelope. She gave a sad smile of regret to her father, and Leo’s heart twisted. Whatever joy had been in her eyes, in all the children’s eyes, was now gone after the display. Esme watched the scene with a cloud hovering over her beautiful face.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I was just trying to have some fun with them. They were cooped up inside, and I figured I could get some of that energy out before bedtime.”
Every fiber of his being urged him to go to her and take her in his arms, to tell her that she’d had good intentions. But good intentions weren’t enough in this realm. “You just have to realize this isn’t a fairytale, Esme. It’s the real world.”
She looked up at him then. Though there was a cloud of sadness over her, her eyes were as bright and hopeful as ever. Not a dragon truck, nor a decapitated stone dragon would ever deter this woman.
“I still believe there’s magic in ordinary things,” said Esme.
“So you slay a priceless dragon statue given to my family over a century ago?”
“A century ago? That sounds like it would be expensive.”
Leo nodded, and she cringed. The way her nose scrunched and her lips pursed made the butterflies in his stomach turn into raging wasps. They were desperate to get out, to get to her for a taste of what they knew was honey on those lips.
“Oh, Leo. I’m so sorry. You have to let me make up for it.”
“How? Should I lock you in a tower and throw away the key for a hundred years?”
She lifted one shoulder and tilted her head in a way that told him she was seriously considering it. So was he.
“There are worse fates,” she said.
That didn’t sound like an ill-fated idea at all. Keeping her captive sounded like the best idea he’d heard all day, all year, all his life.
A throat cleared behind Leo. Leo glanced over his shoulder and was startled to find Omar still standing there.
Leo cleared his own throat. He straightened his jacket, running his hands over his torso in a physical attempt to quiet the raging in his belly. “Just try to stay out of trouble, Ms. Pickett.”
“No more dragon hunts.” She put her right hand to her forehead and saluted. “You got it, your majesty.”
With a nod, Leo turned on his heel and headed inside. The silence from the marquis was deafening.
“What?” Leo growled when they were a distance away from Esme.
“Nothing,” said Omar.
“Right, it’s nothing.”
“Sure thing, Pinocchio.”
Chapter Twenty
Unlike Esme, Jan spent the afternoon testing the local cuisine with Prince Alex. She’d come back smelling of exotic spices and wearing a huge grin on her characteristically serious face. The two friends were in one of the three kitchens of the castle when Mrs. Dolevitt happened upon them with the head chef in tow.
The man in the pristine white apron had blinked and rubbed his eyes when he saw that the delectable smell was coming from the machinations of a female chef. More and more, Esme was learning that certain parts of this enchanted kingdom were still in the dark ages when it came to women’s equality.
But, as the saying goes, a way to a man’s heart was through his stomach. So, after a taste test, the chef invited Jan up to the big kitchen to help with the dessert for tonight’s state dinner. Esme tagged along, hoping to catch a glimpse of a certain royal.
“We’ll mix a little cumin and cinnamon, with a dash of cayenne,” said Jan, tossing in a couple of pinches and a dash of the spices.
“That’s new,” said Esme. “Sweet and spicy all in one dessert pie. This place has broadened your imagination.”
A secret smile spread across Jan’s face. Esme had noticed a definite pep to her friend’s step as she moved about the huge kitchen. She knew it had to be more than the stainless steel appliances. Jan had worked at high-end restaurants before.
“Or maybe a certain someone has broadened your imagination? Maybe a certain prince?”
The smile dissolved from the pie maker’s face like the spices
melting into the mixture. Jan’s head jerked up and looked around at the staff, but no one paid them any attention. “Stop it. He’s a prince. I’m from Jersey.”
“It’s possible.”
Jan sat down her mixing spoon and dusted the flour off her hands. “Esme, I say this because I love you; Girl, pull your head out of the clouds.”
Esme crossed her arms over her chest and leaned her hip against the counter as she regarded her friend.
“We’re here in this world for a visit, not a mortgage. Girls like us don’t stay in a fairyland world. And before you bring up Kate and Meghan,” Jan held up her index finger before Esme could get in a word, “just remember that took years of strife to change that monarchy. There were bumps, broken hearts, and crashes along the way. This kingdom is still practicing ancient traditions. Do you want to be a bump?”
She wasn’t going to be a bump. And even if this road she was on with Leo was rocky, she knew it was worth it for one good reason. “There’s a thing between Leo and me.”
“I get it. I see it,” said Jan.
Jan’s confirmation of the thing pleased Esme more than she could say. That unnamable thing grew in her heart at being acknowledged.
“But it’s just a thing,” Jan continued. “It’s not even named.”
Of course, it wasn’t named. But it would be. Soon. She and Leo just needed to spend more time together to define what was happening between them.
Jan came to stand before her, looking Esme directly in the eye. “You’re a smart girl. Don’t risk your heart on anything but a proper noun.”
Part of Esme knew Jan had a point. Both women had faced their fair share of disappointments at the hands of the opposite sex. But Leo was different.
“Esme, you’re not even invited to dinner. Cinderella was at least invited to the ball.”
“I’m helping my mean BFF prepare dessert in the kitchen.”
“Your BFF, who loves you because you’re the rock in her world. See, that; love and rock. Those are both nouns you can stand on.”
Esme didn’t want to argue with Jan. Unlike her bestie, Esme still believed love was real. She still wanted it in her life. And right now, there was only one man she could see herself offering that word, which could be both a verb and a noun, to.
The King And The Kindergarten Teacher (The Rebel Royals Series Book 1) Page 10
