A Prince at Last!

by Cathie Linz

  “Sure. Orders are easy. Reporting what I just found to the prime minister and dowager queen, that is not going to be easy.”

  “Why not?”

  “Who’d believe that I’m the future king?” Luc scoffed. “I’m not a diplomatic man. I don’t know anything about governing.”

  “You can learn. I’m certain the prime minister and the dowager queen will be delighted with this news.”

  “I brought proof with me,” he said abruptly. “Not so much to convince them as to convince myself. It seems my mother left a key to a safety deposit box in Albert’s care, to use if I ever came asking about my birth father. Since I didn’t know Albert wasn’t my father, it was doubtful I’d ever think to ask him anything. Inside the box was a registered copy of my birth certificate. I thought it had to be another fake, but I checked the paper trail, this time using my mother’s name and it checks out. Before that I was looking for Katie Graham, her name on the marriage certificate to Prince Philippe. I’d already traced Katie back to Texas and found she married Ellsworth Johnson.”

  “I thought you said his name was Robert Johnson?”

  “Americans have this irritating habit of not using their proper Christian given names, especially Texans. Robert was his middle name. It was all there in the safe deposit box. Marriage certificates, my birth certificate and a letter from my mother.”

  “Really? What did she say?”

  “I haven’t read it yet.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t know if I can forgive her,” Luc said bluntly. “And I don’t think there’s anything she could have written in that letter that would justify her lying to me, or letting me live a lie.”

  “Maybe she was trying to protect you. She was so young when you were born. Barely eighteen. Pregnant and alone. She tried to provide you with a stable home and father when she married Albert.”

  “She married one man knowing she was pregnant with another man’s child.” A muscle flexed in his clenched jaw. “How honorable is that?”

  “You won’t know until you read her letter,” she replied.

  “I don’t need to read it to know what she did was dishonorable.”

  “I realize you feel that way now, but you have to read her letter, Luc.”

  “If you’re so interested, then you read it,” he growled, yanking it out of his pocket and tossing it onto her book-strewn desk. “I’m not interested. I don’t care what it says. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to prepare for my meeting with the prime minister and dowager queen and I need some fresh air to clear my head.”

  With that curt announcement, Luc left as abruptly as he’d arrived.

  Chapter Two

  Juliet stared down at the envelope on her desk as if it were a snake that might lunge out and bite her. Her fingers trembled as she traced the elegant handwriting—Luc.

  What had his mother been thinking when she’d written his name? Had she hoped that he’d never find out he was heir to the throne of St. Michel? Would she even have known? From what Luc had told her of the investigation, Katie had been told that her marriage to Philippe was illegal.

  Which meant Katie would have believed her son to be illegitimate. And she’d have done everything she could to hide that fact from him.

  Juliet knew how much legitimacy mattered. The royal princesses had had to weather that storm of controversy themselves when Lise’s rotten first husband Wilhelm had sold the story to a tabloid. Once the word was out that King Philippe had had a secret first wife, whom he’d never divorced, the paparazzi had swarmed the de Bergeron Palace like a bunch of locusts, feeding off the scandal.

  The princesses had all left the palace now—Marie-Claire had married Sebastian, Ariane had gone to Rhineland and married Prince Etienne, Lise had finally found true happiness with her former brother-in-law, the honorable Charles Rodin. Juliet’s own half sister Jacqueline was visiting cousins in Switzerland and protected from most of the scandal while their brother Georges had headed off to the Andes in Peru for a few weeks of summer skiing.

  At least things had worked out well in the end for the three older princesses, who had all found the men of their dreams.

  Juliet thought she’d found the man of her dreams as well—Luc. Her chances of having him see her in a romantic way had always been slim at best, but now they were impossible.

  Juliet turned and caught her reflection in the small mirror propped on top of the bookcase along the opposite wall. She’d placed it there to reflect the view of the garden rather than out of any vanity on her part.

  She had nothing to be vain about. Her green eyes were all right, she supposed, but her long dark hair had never behaved properly, and was at this moment falling out of the topknot she’d secured it in with a pencil to hold it in place. Her eyebrows were bushy, or so her roommate in boarding school had once told her, and her mouth was too large to be elegant. She even had freckles, something no princess would ever have.

  Of course, she wasn’t a princess. She was the ugly stepsister. The smart one, the bookworm, more interested in the past than in her future.

  On those occasions lately when she had dreamt about her future, she’d placed Luc at her side. Her gaze traveled from her reflection to the letter on her desk.

  The fact that Luc was the missing heir changed everything.

  She certainly didn’t have what it took to make a king happy. She didn’t even have what it took to keep a rich St. Michel businessman’s son like Armand Killey happy. Three years ago, Armand had swept her off her feet, telling her he loved her quiet beauty. And she’d bought every word, had, in fact, hungered for someone to love her after her mother had died.

  But Armand hadn’t really loved her at all. He’d simply been using her in order to get close to the king. Juliet had heard him and his father discussing the plan. She’d been devastated and humiliated, as well as angry with herself for being so stupid as to fall for Armand’s slick ways in the first place.

  “Did you read the letter yet?” Luc asked, disrupting her thoughts and once again catching her unprepared. He must have gotten the fresh air he’d said he needed by taking a brief walk in the garden, out of her line of vision.

  “No.” She paused to remove the pencil from her hair and let the dark strands tumble where they may. She’d learned long ago there was no fighting her hair, it always won. If it didn’t want to stay up, it wouldn’t. Turning to face Luc, she said, “I did not read it. And I’m not going to until you do.”

  “Then you’ll be waiting a very long time,” he retorted, “since I have no intention of ever reading it.”

  “Luc.” She reached out to cover his hand with hers. “You’re upset right now. Don’t make any decisions just yet.”

  “Don’t make any decisions?” His voice was harsh, making him sound like a man pushed to his limits as he pulled his hand away. “I have to. I have to tell the prime minister and the dowager queen what I’ve discovered. I have an appointment with them both in less than half an hour.”

  Juliet tried not to be hurt by his physical withdrawal from her, reminding herself that he had a lot to deal with. A good friend wouldn’t get all sensitive, wouldn’t show her pain. She’d be supportive and reassuring. “As I said before, I’m sure they will be pleased with the news.”

  “And as I said before, I know nothing about being a king.”

  “There is a silver lining in all this you know. At least you won’t have to worry about getting along with the new king.”

  “Trust you to find a silver lining.”

  She wrinkled her nose at him. “You make me sound like a naive Pollyanna who still believes in happy endings.”

  “You don’t believe in happy endings?”

  “My mother never found her happy ending,” Juliet noted somberly. “She married Philippe out of a sense of duty, hoping to provide for her children, Georges and I. I don’t think she ever truly loved the king the way she loved my father. Which was perhaps a good thing given the fact that the kin
g only wanted one thing from my mother—an heir. In the end she died trying to provide him a son.”

  “Are you bitter about that?”

  His question surprised her. “I try not to let myself be, but it is difficult at times,” she admitted. “After the first baby was stillborn, the doctors warned that another pregnancy might be risky. But the king wouldn’t listen and my mother went along with his wishes. Jacqueline was born a year later. I think the fact that the pregnancy went so well lulled the king and my mother into a false sense of security. Two years later my mother was pregnant again. This time things did not go as well.” Juliet’s throat tightened as it always did when she thought of those dark days. “I miss her still. That’s why I feel so strongly about you reading this letter from your mother, Luc. Because I know the influence a mother can have, and how that loss leaves a void in you.”

  “My situation is entirely different. My mother died when I was six. I don’t remember much about her.”

  “Perhaps reading her letter will bring back some memories.”

  “I don’t want to remember,” Luc stated bluntly, returning to his earlier pacing. “I’ve got enough trouble dealing with the present without dredging up the past any more than I absolutely have to. As it is, I’ll have to rehash the entire story for the prime minister and dowager queen.”

  “The dowager queen has always had a soft spot in her heart for you.”

  “She just has an eye for younger men.”

  “Luc!” Juliet gave him a startled look before laughing somewhat guiltily. “You shouldn’t say such things.”

  “See, I told you I’m not cut out to be king. Already I’m saying the wrong thing.” His words sounded serious but there was a slight twinkle in his eyes.

  “Well, the dowager queen is your grandmother so I suppose one could say something slightly outrageous about one’s own grandmother.”

  “My grandmother?” Now Luc was the one who looked startled. “I hadn’t thought about that.”

  “And with Marie-Claire, Ariane, Lise and Jacqueline, you’ve got four sisters.”

  “Half sisters,” he corrected her. “Three of whom have all married in the past few months. There must be something in the palace water that’s responsible for all these weddings.”

  “Your half sisters would disagree with you, I’m sure. They all married for love.”

  “A romantic idea to be sure,” he scoffed.

  “You don’t believe in marrying for love?”

  “It isn’t something kings are supposed to do, is it?” Luc replied, pausing in front of her desk to bestow a brooding look down at the letter still resting there. “Supposedly King Philippe and my mother were in love, and look where it got them. It seems to have messed up the rest of their lives.”

  “It doesn’t have to happen that way.”

  “Oh, so now you’re the expert on royal love, hmm?” He turned to face her, propping his hip on the corner of the oak table as she had earlier. “I thought your thesis was on the role royal women played in St. Michel’s history.”

  “And that role sometimes included falling in love.”

  “What about you? Have you ever fallen in love?” Luc asked her.

  “I thought so at the time.” Then Luc had come to the palace and things had changed. Her feelings for Armand had dimmed in comparison to her awareness of Luc. “What about you?”

  “Love makes you vulnerable and I try not to be vulnerable.”

  No surprise there. “If you’re so invulnerable,” she teased him, “then you shouldn’t be nervous about this upcoming meeting with the prime minister. You should be cool and calm, as you always are. A man in control.”

  “Is that how you see me?”

  She nodded. It was easier than adding that it was one of the ways she saw him, that she also sensed something deeper within him.

  “Well, I’ll take that as a compliment then. Doesn’t stop me from being uneasy about this meeting, however.”

  “Do you want me to help…” Juliet began, before stopping as she remembered that it was the king, not merely Luc, she was offering assistance to. As if a king would need a bookworm’s help. “Never mind.” She took a step away from him.

  “No, go ahead. You were going to offer help with what?”

  “Your meeting. By coming with you. A stupid idea.”

  “Not stupid at all. You’ve got a quiet way of getting people on your side. But this is one battle I’ve got to fight on my own.”

  “Of course,” she said formally, taking another step back. “I understand and I agree.”

  “Why are you doing that?” Luc demanded, noting the change in her voice immediately.

  “Doing what?”

  “Going all proper and starchy on me, pulling away from me.”

  “This office isn’t large enough for me to move very far away,” she pointed out in an attempt to add a little levity.

  But Luc wasn’t buying her act for one second. Giving her a dark look, he said, “Don’t you dare start acting differently now that you know about me being…” He paused and sliced the air with his hand instead of continuing.

  “King,” Juliet said. “The word you are searching for is king. And you can’t expect me to act as if nothing has happened.”

  “I expect you to continue to be my friend as you’ve been since I arrived at the palace three years ago.”

  “I will always be your friend, Luc, but this is bound to change things between us.”

  “Not if we don’t let it. And I refuse to let it,” he stated. “You must promise to do the same.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t think I can promise that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you being the king changes everything. Some things we have no control over.”

  “The one thing I plan on doing with this situation is maintaining control,” Luc stated firmly.

  “Some things are beyond our control,” she repeated with soft sadness.

  Some things…like falling in love with a man who would be king.

  “So Luc, I hope the fact that you called this special meeting means you have some good news to report to us,” Prime Minister René Davoine said with his customary dignity. Slim and blessed with plenty of pewter-gray hair and a mustache to match, he was the picture of a distinguished statesman. Dressed in a two-piece dark suit as always, he appeared more somber than he actually was.

  “I have news, but I’m not certain how good it is,” Luc replied.

  “Don’t mutter, Luc,” Dowager Queen Simone instructed him tartly.

  Standing before the two of them made him feel like a bug under a microscope. As for the dowager queen, he’d never met anyone quite like her.

  Thin and regal, she possessed a presence that filled the room—and considering they were in the huge Throne Room, that was no small feat. At age seventy-five, she had her short dark hair meticulously maintained so that not one hint of gray or white showed.

  Aside from her attitude, her eyes were the most memorable thing about her. They were a piercing blue, not as dark as his own, more the color of a light sabre. They certainly had a way of slicing right through a person who irritated her, which he’d apparently just done.

  Queen Celeste had tried to convince anyone who would listen that Dowager Queen Simone was “dotty.” And, while the older monarch had forgotten some details of the events that surrounded her son’s early marriage, there was no denying that in most cases the dowager queen was still as sharp as a tack.

  She was eyeing him with honed intensity. “Those English schools taught you how to enunciate properly.”

  “I could speak in French or German or Italian, if you prefer, ma’am,” Luc retorted.

  She waved his words away with an imperious wave of her wrinkled but still elegant hand. On her left hand was the elaborate diamond ring that her husband, King Antoine, had given her upon their engagement over fifty years ago. She’d outlived both her husband and her only son due not only to her strong constitution
but also to her iron will. “English will suffice.”

  “Please be seated, Luc,” the prime minister said with a much more inviting wave of his hand.

  Luc sat on the Louis XIV chair as if it might collapse beneath him. This sudden attack of nerves was so unlike him. He’d been dealing with the prime minister and the dowager queen for months without any problem. But that had been when he’d been an employee, when he’d been head of the country’s Security Force. It was a job he enjoyed, a job he knew how to do, a job he was very good at.

  Damn. He should have asked Juliet to come with him when she’d offered. She’d know what to say. While she was shy around large groups of strangers, she had a way of disarming people with her quiet smile and sincere empathy.

  “Well, Luc?” The prime minister looked at him encouragingly. “Have you found the missing heir?”

  “I believe so, yes.”

  “You believe so?” Simone said. “You mean there is some room for doubt?”

  “No. I found the birth certificate for Katie Graham’s child, a son.”

  “A son.” The prime minister almost applauded with delight. “Have you located him?”

  “Yes.”

  “I told you Luc would succeed,” the prime minister said.

  “What is this son like? Is he someone suitable? He’s not living in some American trailer park, is he?” Dowager Queen Simone demanded. “Someone who would be a disgrace to the throne and the de Bergeron name?”

  “I don’t believe he’d be a disgrace, no,” Luc replied. “Naturally he’s somewhat stunned with the news.”

  The dowager queen leaned forward eagerly, her thin hands resting on her gold-filigree-topped cane. “Where is he?”

  “You’re looking at him.”

  She blinked her laser eyes at him. “I don’t understand.”

  “Katie Graham was my mother.”

  Luc could relate to the look of astonishment on the prime minister’s face. He’d felt that way himself when he’d first heard the news. He still felt that way.

  The dowager queen’s expression was harder to read.