Pretend Princess (Cordillera Royals Book 1)

by Carolyn Rae

  Tricia leaned close to the prince. “What if they find her? Won’t they wonder why she looks more like your cousin than I do?”

  Lawrence shook his head. “I purposely picked two men who have not had much contact with Allysa.”

  Twenty minutes later Pierre and Jose returned. They bowed. Pierre said, “We did not find anyone who looks like her highness. Is someone trying to impersonate your cousin?”

  Lawrence nodded. “Since we arrived, I have heard rumors that some model who resembles Allysa might be trying to gain publicity that way.” He sighed. “We might as well return to the street.”

  Outside, a truck with CNN on the side inched through the crowds. Lawrence turned to the soldiers. “Stay close now. I believe we are going to be interviewed.”

  Tricia grabbed his arm. Her legs felt like cooked spaghetti. “Can’t we avoid them? I can’t pose as Allysa on worldwide television.”

  Lawrence patted her arm. “Yes, you can. Just smile a lot and act gracious.”

  “What can I say? My accent might give me away.”

  “But we’re not in Cordillera. No one will notice. Talk about Capri. Say you like the view or something. Then suggest he talk to me.”

  A microphone was thrust in front of her. “Tell us why you are traveling in Capri. Is this a goodwill tour or just a holiday?”

  “It’s … it’s a holiday. I enjoy walking through the shops and seeing the ocean. It’s sort of a blue-green and it sparkles in the sun.” Damn, couldn’t she have said something more royal sounding than that? She’d tried to speak plainly. Hopefully, her accent wouldn’t be too obvious.

  “Prince Lawrence, would you say a few words?” The reporter moved the mike in front of Lawrence. Tricia drew a sigh of relief.

  The prince spoke about the growing tourist business in Cordillera. Then the microphone was thrust in front of her again. “Tell us, Princess Allysa, are you and your cousin going to rule together?”

  Tricia opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

  Prince Lawrence shook his head. “I will rule as the next king.”

  The reporter, redheaded and freckled, pushed her glasses higher on her nose and spoke into the mike. “Is it true women in Cordillera are treated as second class citizens?” She held the mike close to Tricia’s face.

  Tricia took hold of it. “Yes, and that is something I am working to change. Married women are not allowed to take jobs unless it is necessary to provide for their families. Single women do not have a chance to get the best jobs—”

  Scowling, Prince Lawrence snatched the microphone from her. “That is not true. Single women are afforded every opportunity to take jobs they are suited for.”

  The reporter stepped closer to the prince and took back the microphone. “And what kind of jobs are single women suited for? Can they rise to be head of a company?”

  The prince’s mouth dropped open. “Women in Cordillera are not trained for such demanding positions. They are educated to become wives and mothers.”

  The reporter’s expression became intent. “Then you believe women should stay barefoot and pregnant.”

  Tricia watched the prince’s face, waiting to see what he said.

  Lawrence frowned. “I did not say that.”

  “But that’s what you and your uncle, the king, believes. Isn’t that true?” The reporter shoved the microphone right next to Lawrence’s mouth.

  “I cannot speak for my uncle.”

  The reporter held the mike next to her own mouth. “But when he was crowned king, didn’t he promise to uphold the principles held by his father, to keep women in their place as keepers of the hearth and home.”

  “I was only a boy then. You cannot expect me to remember that.”

  Tricia glanced at his hands. He shoved his hands in his pockets. He must have been fifteen then. She’d been twelve and read about it in the papers. She’d pitied the girls and women then, but never believed she’d have a chance to do something about their situation. She resolved to try harder to change the king’s mind or at least Prince Lawrence’s.

  Lawrence tapped his foot. He reached out and shook the reporter’s hand. “You must excuse us. Princess Allysa is tired and needs to rest. Her health is delicate.” He took Tricia’s hand. “Come, cousin. I will see you to your hotel room.”

  He led her away from the newswoman. The crowds parted to let them through. Tricia tried to pull her hand loose, but he held fast. She leaned closer to whisper, “But don’t you believe in telling the truth on the news?”

  “I did tell the truth. I admitted to the king’s beliefs.”

  “Won’t that make him look bad?”

  “Only to ardent feminists like you. I see no sign of Alyssa. Are you going to argue all afternoon, or shall we go to the hotel?”

  “I thought we weren’t going to stay overnight. Aren’t the hotels expensive?”

  He shrugged. “We need to stay here because we might find Allysa.” He pointed. “Come on. The hotel is this way.”

  She stared at him. “Are you going to use money from the treasury just so we can stay at a hotel with exorbitant prices? Wouldn’t that money be better spent trying to attract business to your country and improve women’s education?”

  He frowned. “There you go again. Why should we educate women in other things besides what they need, to be good mothers and keep a clean, tidy home for their families? That’s what most of them want.”

  She tore her hand loose from his. “You’re behind the times. Some women want careers, even if they plan to marry and raise a family someday. For that matter, mothers need education in science and health to take care of their children. Women in other countries have risen to top positions and raised families. Women in the United States do it as well, if not better than men. Our system gives them the same opportunities as the boys.”

  He met her gaze. “Our girls have the same fine education as boys in the lower grades. But how could we include all those things like math and science and business management along with study of the arts, music and literature?”

  “You mean you don’t include art, music and literature for boys? Where do you expect to get the next poets, musicians and writers?”

  “Any young man who chooses to excel in those accomplishments is free to attend those cultural enrichment classes taken by the girls.” He paused in front of an open-air coffee shop beside a peach colored building with Roman arches.

  “If those classes are offered mostly to girls, that might discourage boys. We have special schools called magnet schools, where both sexes can specialize in music, drama, and other specialized subjects, along with regular subjects.”

  He stroked his beard. “I’m not promising anything, but maybe we could look into that.”

  Tricia couldn’t help smiling. “That would be great. Education would be much richer for Cordillera’s children.”

  He strode past a palm tree to the entrance shadowed by a rounded brown awning. Overhead numerous flags waved from a wide balcony, making fluttering shadows on the flat square stones of the pavement. Purple bougainvillea draped down the side of a building across the narrow street, its sweet fragrance wafting past on a warm breeze.

  The doorman held the door of the hotel open. Inside, after beckoning to his soldiers, Prince Lawrence said, “Keep watch over the princess. See that no one bothers her.” He told his valet, “Check to see if our rooms are ready, then order coffee and pastries to be served in the dining room.” He led Tricia there.

  Minutes later, a waiter came with two steaming cups of coffee and some pastries.

  Tricia took a bite, and whipped cream oozed out, spreading over her mouth and chin.

  Prince Lawrence laughed and whipped out a monogrammed handkerchief. “You look cute like a toddler tasting his birthday cake. That reminds me of some pictures of Allysa and me at my first birthday party. There we were with frosting all over our hands and faces, and the king was smiling. However, my mother looked embarrassed.

  Lars, L
awrence’s valet, nodded. “Her highness was trying to shoo away the photographer until she could wipe your faces. That picture hit the front page the next day.”

  The prince cradled her chin in his hand and gently wiped the cream from her skin, his warm fingers caressing her skin.

  Lawrence met her gaze and smiled. “You’re adorable, even with cream on your face.” Slowly, his fingers released her face. “I need to inquire about my cousin instead of looking at your pretty face.” He handed the soiled linen to his valet. “Take care of that.”

  Tricia leaned forward. “So how do you plan to look for Allysa?” she whispered.

  “I will inquire at the desk.” He pulled out a picture of the princess and handed it to one of his soldiers. “Take this to all the inns and hotels and ask if a woman looking like her has been there.” Rising, he laid some coins on the table. “Come, our rooms should be ready.”

  “But my clothes and my cosmetics? They’re all at the hotel in Naples with Serena.” Smiling, he led her inside the hotel. “You look fine as you are. I am sure the hotel concierge can tell us where to purchase a nightgown. We’ll only be here one night.” He held out his arm.

  She stood and laid her hand on his arm, felt the strength beneath his white jacket with gold braid. His tanned face contrasted nicely with his white satin shirt and pale gray silk tie. He looked very princely amidst the casually attired tourists.

  At the door to their suite, he bent down to unlock it. Leaning closer, he asked, “If I buy you a pretty nightgown, will you model it for me?”

  She laughed. “In your dreams.”

  He looked disappointed, but held door open and waited for her to enter the luxurious sitting room. He grinned and pointed toward a doorway opening to a bedroom with a four-poster bed with its red and gold brocade spread turned back to reveal red satin sheets. “There’s only one way a beautiful woman should dress for bed. Nothing’s lovelier in the moonlight than a woman’s fair skin.”

  She reached out to slap his hand, then paused with her hand inches from his. The hall door was still open, and a guard stood a few yards away in the doorway of a second bedroom. She couldn’t just slap the hand of a prince in plain sight of anyone watching. He took her hand and held it. “Naughty, naughty. You must not injure the future king.”

  She frowned. “And there’s another thing wrong with your country.”

  “Are you going to commit treason by criticizing my country?” He shut the door to the hall.

  “Sorry, I didn’t know that was against the law. That’s not a crime in the United States.”

  “Well, since we are not on Cordillera soil, I’ll not pursue the issue. However, I’m warning you to watch your tongue when we return. Now what else is wrong with my country?”

  Tricia leaned closer and lowered her voice to a whisper. “You told me Allysa was born first, but you will be the one to rule because you are a man.”

  “There’s no way Allysa could rule. She has chosen her destiny by running off with her lover instead of fighting for the right of succession to be changed.”

  “We don’t even know for sure if she’s pregnant.”

  “Serena told me my cousin has not eaten breakfast for a week and refused her morning tea on most of those occasions. My cousin never leaves her room without her daily sweet roll and tea. Her maid even claimed Princess Allysa rushed to the bathroom on two different mornings.”

  Tricia sank into a padded chair. “She could just be suffering from the flu.”

  Lawrence shook his head. “But every night before she disappeared, she ate like a horse at dinner.”

  Tricia fingered her chin. “And if we find her, and she is pregnant, where can she stay?”

  “Could she stay in the place where you and your sisters lived before you all came here?”

  Tricia laughed. “She wouldn’t last for more than five minutes, not after she saw the closet-sized bathroom, the double hot plate to cook on, and our lumpy mattresses.”

  Lawrence sat in the other padded chair. “Tell me how you live in the United States while you attend college.”

  “I live in one room, with a roommate, and we share a bathroom down the hall.”

  Lawrence fingered his mustache. “Alyssa wouldn’t like that either.”

  “Why can’t she just marry the guy and stay in a house in town?”

  “Well, you may consider a professor a suitable husband, but the king might not agree.”

  “And the queen?”

  “She will go along with whatever my uncle says.”

  Tricia frowned. Apparently, the queen had little backbone.

  The next morning, after they’d dressed and had breakfast, someone knocked on the door. Lawrence rose to open it. He took an envelope from a maid and shut the door. He opened it and frowned.

  “What does it say?”

  “It’s a message from my cousin. Apparently, she saw me on the news. If I want to see her, I must go to the address in the letter. At least this time I can read the numbers.”

  Tricia stood and walked over to stand beside his chair. She leaned over him to read the letter. He smelled of sandalwood and juniper as if he’d brushed by those trees while walking in the woods. “Does that look like her handwriting?”

  The prince nodded. “It’s got her trademark signature with a curlicue over the “y.”

  “But what if it’s a trap?”

  “I’ll take my soldiers. Lars,” the prince pointed to his valet standing just outside the door, “will stay here to protect you. I don’t suppose I can order you to stay in the room, but I can ask.” He looked at her questioningly.

  Tricia smiled. “I think you’re beginning to understand me.”

  “Keep your cell phone handy. Lock the door to the suite behind me. If I don’t return in three hours, call the police. And if you go out, take Lars with you.” He strode out the door and down the hall, his footsteps fading.

  She hoped this wasn’t a trap or a false lead.

  Chapter Twenty

  Prince Lawrence marched down the hall. His two soldiers kept pace at his sides. He hoped Tricia would stay in the room as he’d asked. It was strange, having to ask a woman to do something. Wasn’t a prince supposed to lead, to command while others followed? His education had been excellent. Did that not make him smarter than the general populace?

  He studied the map Lars had gotten from the hotel concierge. As he was about to enter a narrow street flanked by three-story stone apartments, Pierre touched his arm. “Your highness, I would advise you not to go that way. We could easily be ambushed.”

  Lawrence glanced up at the balconies, some with lines of clothes blowing in the wind, others with pots of flowers or leafy vines hanging over the railings. “Looks peaceful enough.”

  Jose tugged a newspaper clipping from his pocket and held it open with his large hands. “Here’s your picture. You might tempt a robber or a kidnapper.”

  “Damn,” Lawrence said. “No wonder I was accosted by a reporter. How did they find out so soon that I was coming here?”

  “Someone at the Naples hotel must have called the press,” said Pierre.

  Lawrence frowned. “Publicity is good—most of the time—but now I would rather travel unnoticed.”

  “You look attractive in that white uniform with gold braid, but hardly unnoticeable,” Lars said.

  Pierre held out his hand. “Let me see that map. I believe there is another way we can go without entering narrow streets.”

  After walking about a mile, Pierre paused at the entrance of another narrow street. The buildings blocked the sun so only the top balconies caught any sunlight. “That address should be across this lane near the corner of this street.”

  Jose and Pierre kept pace with Lawrence, scanning the area for anyone who looked suspicious. Pierre paused before a small shop that sold sausage, cheese, and bread. “This is it, but it does not appear to have rooms for rent.”

  Lawrence strode inside, then showed Allysa’s picture to a plump old
er woman behind the counter. “We received a message from this woman. I am her cousin. I want to speak to her?” He held out the handwritten note.

  The woman smoothed a lock of dark hair toward the bun at the back of her head and studied the picture and the note. She looked toward the street, then faced Lawrence. “If you please sir, close the door.”

  Lawrence nodded toward Jose, who shut the door.

  The woman stared at Lawrence. “You say you’re her cousin. But, you . . . you are the prince of Cordillera, are you not?”

  Lawrence nodded. “I am indeed.”

  “Then she must be the Cordilleran princess.”

  “That is correct. Now, may I see her?”

  The proprietress walked out from behind the counter, waddled over to a doorway covered by a burlap curtain. Pulling the curtain aside to reveal stairs, she called, “Your Highness, you have a visitor. Your cousin is here.”

  At the top his cousin appeared, looking plumper than the last time he’s seen her. Her starched white blouse with embroidered flowers hung loose over a multicolored gauze skirt. He rushed up the steps and hugged her, then stepped back to look at her. “I’m so glad you’re all right. Are you ready to come home—or are you married now?”

  She shook her head. “At the last minute, Raphael persuaded me to join him for his month’s vacation. I was going to leave a note, but we had to rush to catch a train. I didn’t have time.”

  Lawrence frowned. “So why haven’t you written or called? Don’t you think people would worry?”

  Princess Allysa swept her long auburn locks over her shoulder. “I was going to, but then I discovered I was pregnant and didn’t know what to say.”

  “Couldn’t you at least text your mother to let her know you’re all right?”

  “I was afraid a text might be read by someone else. I couldn’t risk the scandal, and I didn’t want paparazzi to find me. I finally mailed a note to Mother, saying I was taking an extended vacation.”