A Prince at Last!

by Cathie Linz

  And now he found a message on his desk announcing that the dowager queen wanted to see him the moment he came in. Knowing she was an early riser, and knowing she liked having her breakfast served in the sunny Emerald Salon just outside her rooms, he figured he might as well get this over with.

  “Ah, Luc, how nice to see you.” She smiled and gestured to the chair beside her. “Come, join me for breakfast.”

  “Some coffee would be nice. Black, please,” he requested of the footman.

  The dowager queen allowed him two sips before starting her inquisition. “I hear that you and Juliet were cavorting in the fountain last night.”

  It was all he could do not to spew his coffee all over the priceless tablecloth.

  The dowager queen patted him on the back with surprising strength. “There now, we can’t have you choking. Not after all this work went into finding you.” Turning to the footman, she dismissed him before returning her attention to Luc.

  “Your highness…” he began.

  She interrupted him. “You may call me Grandmother. Some of the girls call me Grandmama on occasion, which I find endearing, but I thought Grandmother would be more comfortable for you.”

  Luc couldn’t think of one comfortable thing about this entire situation.

  “Baron Severin from the Privy Council was a little…chagrined, shall we say, when he saw you two last night. The man doesn’t have a romantic bone in his entire body.”

  “What was he doing spying on me?”

  “Actually he was just looking out of the palace window. He had no idea the wild scene he’d be witnessing.”

  “You make it sound as though we were indulging in some kind of orgy or something,” Luc protested.

  “Were you?”

  “Of course not! Juliet isn’t that kind of woman.”

  “What kind is she?”

  “You’ve known her longer than I have.”

  “In years, perhaps. But Juliet has always kept her distance from me. I have the impression of a bookish young woman who is more comfortable reading about the past than living in the present.”

  “She was living in the present last night,” Luc said.

  “Apparently so.” The dowager queen’s blue eyes sparkled as she pinned him with one of her piercing stares. “I’ll make you a bargain. If you promise to call me Grandmother, and to have tea with me every day this week, then I’ll assure the prime minister and Baron Severin that there’s nothing to worry about, that you and Juliet were merely having fun in the way young people today do.”

  He set down his coffee cup with a distinct clink. “That’s blackmail.”

  “How else am I to get to know my grandson better?”

  “You could try asking. A strange concept for a monarch maybe,” Luc noted in irritation. “But an effective one nonetheless.”

  “Asking? Hmmm.” She sipped her tea before gracefully returning the delicate china cup to its matching saucer. “An interesting concept, to be sure. All right then, Luc. Will you have tea with me this week?”

  “No,” he said without hesitation. “Not every day. But I will spend some time with you. Providing you don’t try to interrogate me about my private life again.”

  She bestowed a regal stare upon him. “My dear boy, had I wanted to interrogate you, you’d know it, believe me.”

  “I’m fairly good at interrogations myself,” Luc warned her, not the least bit intimidated.

  Her smile widened. “I do believe I’m going to enjoy having you as my grandson, Luc.”

  Chapter Eight

  Juliet noticed the furtive looks Yvette, the head gardener’s wife, was giving her before the morning’s weekly staff meeting began. She prayed it wasn’t because Yvette had seen her with Luc in the fountain last night.

  Oh, but it had been divine. Standing in the moonlight, held in Luc’s arms and kissed the way a man kisses a woman he wants. But was it the way a man kissed a woman he loved?

  She knew she loved him. She’d suspected it for ages, had been inching closer with every breath she took. But last night, when Juliet had returned to her rooms, she’d known. She loved him.

  The thought of Luc being hurt by one of the accidents that had befallen him lately was enough to make her sick at heart. And angry. Furious, in fact. No one was going to hurt the man she loved. She’d do whatever it took to protect him.

  Which is why she was speaking at the staff meeting this morning. Everyone—from the lowest of housemaids to the valets and footmen to the palace steward and the royal chef himself—gathered in the staff dining room just off the kitchens.

  The air was still filled with the warm aroma of the cinnamon buns that had been freshly baked that morning, and a small vase of freshly cut roses adorned the spotless table. Alistair, the palace steward, had previously worked at Buckingham Palace and he prided himself on the small finishing touches.

  “Thank you all for allowing me to speak to you during your meeting,” Juliet said. She knew almost all of them by name.

  “As you are aware, things have been very stressful since the king’s death. I don’t have to tell you all how volatile the situation could easily become. There are some in Rhineland who avidly support annexing St. Michel. Now, our security is in excellent hands with Luc Dumont. He looks after the safety of us all. I just thought that during these difficult times, we could repay the favor by helping him out a bit.”

  “How can we do that, miss?” Andrea, one of the housemaids, asked.

  “By keeping our eyes and ears open, by reporting anything suspicious to Luc, no matter how inconsequential you might think it is.”

  “We like Luc,” the chef declared on everyone’s behalf. “He doesn’t put on airs like some people.”

  “He gave a big contribution when my daughter needed that surgery last year,” one of the footmen said.

  “And he gave my son a stern lecture when he was getting into trouble,” another said. “Turned him right around, our Luc did. My son is doing just fine now, getting good grades.”

  “Of course we’ll help out Luc, in any way we can,” Alistair promised. “You can count on us.”

  The stories and their support warmed Juliet’s heart. She had no idea Luc had quietly been helping those in need. Luc, of course, had never said a word. He wasn’t the type to go blowing his own horn, to brag about his accomplishments or his generosity. He was a doer, not a talker.

  Which boded well for the people of St. Michel. They would soon have a wonderful new king. But their gain would be Juliet’s loss.

  Although, if she were honest with herself, she’d have to admit that there was a tiny part of her that had started to secretly hope once again. It wasn’t logical and it wasn’t practical but…Those looks he’d been giving her, and more important those kisses they’d shared. Their relationship was at a new crossroads. The problem was that each path ahead held its own dangers.

  Luc could do worse than to marry her. The rebellious thought chased its way across her brain. Certainly no one would love him more than she did—no one could.

  But Luc wasn’t looking for love. He’d said as much himself. Which meant he’d be looking for someone compatible with his new lifestyle. And while Juliet certainly knew her way around the palace, it wasn’t the same as having a royal bloodline. There was simply no substitute for that. Plus there was the matter of hating to be in the spotlight, another strike against her in the royalty department.

  “Juliet, the dowager queen asked me to give you this.” One of the footmen held out an envelope on a silver tray for her.

  She took it with some trepidation. Why would the dowager queen be writing her? She opened the wax seal and removed the fine parchment paper. “Your presence is required for tea this afternoon. I’ve decided it’s time you interviewed me for your paper on the history of St. Michel’s royal women.”

  Generally speaking, Juliet tried to avoid the dowager queen as she tried to avoid Queen Celeste, albeit for entirely different reasons. Queen Celeste had never
appreciated Juliet’s presence in the palace. After all, Juliet was the child of her husband’s former wife. But since Juliet was no threat, either in her beauty or her need for attention, Celeste usually ignored Juliet.

  The dowager queen, on the other hand, had a way of intimidating not just Juliet but almost everyone she came in contact with. Lately, Celeste had been promoting rumors that the dowager queen had gone “dotty” in her old age. Juliet wasn’t buying it.

  The dowager queen possessed the type of regal presence that was hard to find these days. It dated back to Queen Victoria’s time, when monarchs were monarchs and no one questioned their authority. In Victoria’s case, this meant that she forbade new servants to look her in the face. Instead they had to keep their eyes firmly on the floor at her feet.

  Juliet would have been glad for such a ruling in the de Bergeron Palace, because the dowager queen had the most piercing blue eyes she’d ever seen. They weren’t rich and filled with depth like Luc’s. They had a way of taking you apart inch by inch and finding all your faults.

  Not that the older woman had ever voiced any criticisms. She didn’t have to. One look from her said it all. Which left Juliet wondering what the dowager queen would be saying to her this afternoon.

  Teatime arrived all too soon. Juliet had tried to bolster her sagging confidence by wearing a lovely dress with a Liberty print of tiny flowers. The dress was made for a tea party. Well, not really. She’d gotten it in a little shop during a visit to London. But it did have the look of a tea party somehow. At least in her mind. And, she hoped, in the dowager queen’s as well.

  She’d restrained her hair into a French braid with help from one of the maids and had taken special care with her makeup, which had to be discreet but not nonexistent.

  She’d brought a notebook and pen with her, to take notes. The dowager queen had promised to tell her story, and Juliet was hoping she could add the information to her own research.

  The dowager queen’s apartments were in the south wing, on the sunny second floor overlooking the fountain and the gardens at the back of the palace. The rooms all possessed a stately elegance and none more than the White Drawing Room where they were having tea.

  Juliet paused for a moment to simply appreciate her surroundings. Straight ahead were ceiling-to-floor French doors, which opened onto a terrace. In front of them stood graceful marble statues and tall lapis lazuli vases overflowing with irises. In one corner of the room was a French Florentine cabinet inlaid with panels of semiprecious stones. And in the other corner was the dowager queen.

  “Ah, there you are, child. Well, don’t just stand there. Do come in.”

  Juliet performed a brief curtsy as her mother had shown her when they’d first moved to the palace.

  The dowager queen beamed at her in approval. “Your mother taught you well. No one knows how to curtsy properly these days. It’s not taught at school any longer, and it should be. Where would the world be without civility and manners, I ask you? In my day, things were very different. Why, when I married King Antoine, the women all curtsied when I walked down the aisle. And the event certainly wasn’t filmed the way they are these days. That bad trait started with Princess Grace allowing her wedding to be filmed.” Her expression turned disapproving.

  Juliet was a longtime admirer of the beautiful actress who had become a princess. “I’ve read that she only did that in order to dissolve the remaining seven years on her movie contract with MGM.”

  “Perhaps, but those Grimaldis have always been a wild bunch. The de Bergeron family is much more traditional. My father was a grand duke, so I was raised in the ranks of St. Michel’s aristocracy and taught the rules of protocol and propriety from birth.” She paused a moment to give Juliet a thoughtful look even as she indicated with a royal wave of her hand that Juliet should be seated beside her. “Perhaps it’s wrong of me to have you curtsy. After all, I am almost family.”

  That one word, almost, created a huge gulf. One that, for the first time in her life, Juliet was glad of. Otherwise, she would have been related to Luc, and that would have been more than she could have borne.

  “Jacqueline is my granddaughter and you are her half sister. Do you take sugar or milk in your tea?”

  “Milk, no sugar, thank you, ma’am.”

  The dowager queen handed Juliet a cup of tea in a delicate china rimmed with roses. Quickly setting her notebook and pen on her lap, Juliet took the teacup and prayed she wouldn’t spill anything.

  The dowager queen tilted her head regally, her short dark hair meticulously in place, her powder-blue suit just a shade darker than her piercing eyes. “Jacqueline is due back from Switzerland soon, isn’t she?”

  “Next week.”

  “She’s a handful, that girl is.”

  “As are many of the de Bergeron women,” Juliet felt compelled to point out. She might only be Jacqueline’s half sister, but she loved her dearly and wasn’t about to let anyone speak badly of her.

  With a nod of her head, the dowager queen indicated that the footman on duty was to offer Juliet a selection of tea sandwiches and goodies from a three-tiered serving dish.

  Juliet paused to admire the swan-shaped dainty bit of frosted sponge cake as well as a huge strawberry dipped in white and dark chocolate to resemble a tuxedo.

  “Take one of the strawberries, they’re delightful this time of year.” The order was implicit even if the older woman’s tone was aristocratically charming.

  Juliet did as she was told.

  “So you’re writing a paper on the de Bergeron women.” A new level of interest had entered the dowager queen’s voice.

  Juliet set her plate on a side table. She couldn’t eat and speak at the same time, not with someone as overwhelming as the dowager queen. During all their previous meetings, other family members had always been present, mitigating the impact the older woman had.

  “Yes, ma’am. Actually I’m doing a thesis on the role of women in St. Michel’s royal history. I’ve just been reading the journals of Queen Regina who, as you know, lived in Queen Victoria’s time. She had eight children and, like Victoria, she saw them all well married to the heads of other royal houses across Europe. When her husband the king had a stroke, she took on his duties herself and ran the country quite successfully. She was a wise and compassionate queen.”

  “The power behind the throne, eh? No doubt that’s what Celeste was hoping for.”

  “I wouldn’t exactly describe her as either wise or compassionate.” The words were out of Juliet’s mouth before she could stop them.

  The dowager queen cackled with laughter. “Well said. So you’re not as quiet and sweet as one might think. Good. I like a person who speaks her mind.”

  “Then, if I may be so bold, might I ask why you invited me here for tea today?”

  “I called you here today because I wanted to get to know you better. I understand you’ve been spending a great deal of time with Luc.”

  “Luc and I have been friends for a long time.”

  “That’s all? Just friends?”

  “Yes.” Juliet prayed that lightning wouldn’t strike her for telling a bold-faced lie to the dowager queen.

  “Hmm.” The older woman subjected her to one of her piercing stares, her light-blue eyes slicing right through her. “As you know, Luc’s station in life will soon be changing dramatically.”

  “I’m aware of that, ma’am.”

  “I know. Luc said that he’d told you about it even before coming to the prime minister and me.”

  “He only did that because—”

  She waved Juliet’s words away with an imperious wave of her elegant hand. “You don’t have to defend him to me, child. Although it’s admirable that you’d want to. It’s not my intention to interrogate you about your private relationship with Luc. As his grandmother I’m merely trying to learn more about him.”

  “Then you should really speak to him.”

  “I’ve tried to.” The dowager queen leaned forwa
rd in agitation, her thin hands resting on her gold-filigree topped cane. “The impudent young pup says he doesn’t have time for tea with me.”

  “I’m sure he meant no disrespect, ma’am.”

  “Oh, he came nicely enough yesterday morning and sat on the very chair you are in now, looking all elegant and handsome. He does have the most divine eyes, doesn’t he?”

  Juliet had to smile. “Yes, ma’am. He does.”

  “And the most stubborn nature. How do you deal with him?”

  “By letting him be himself,” Juliet replied, “and accepting him for who he is.”

  “I’m well aware of who he is. Although he insists no one else know until that confounded paperwork comes through from the French authorities. It should come any moment now. The two independent investigators that Luc also insisted we hire have told us they’ll have their final report within the next forty-eight hours with Luc’s DNA results.”

  “So soon?” Juliet’s stomach clenched at the thought of how little time they had left.

  “St. Michel has been without a king long enough. Celeste has been agitating to have her infant son named as the heir. The impudence of the woman! When there have been rumors for months about her having an affair, even before my poor son passed on. Who knows if her child is really my son’s? She refuses any DNA testing for the infant. That woman will never rule St. Michel, not as long as there’s breath left in my body!”

  The flush on the older woman’s cheeks concerned Juliet, as did her labored breathing. “It can’t be good for you to get so upset, ma’am. Would you like me to call someone?” The footman who had served them earlier had departed.

  “No, no, I’m fine.” The dowager queen patted Juliet’s hand. “There’s no need for concern. I’m not about to…how do those Americans put it? Ah, yes, I’m not about to kick the bucket just yet.”

  “I certainly hope not, ma’am.”

  “I intend to stick around for some time yet. After all, I’ve got a new grandson and I want to see him crowned as our next king. And I want to see him married and have children of his own to aggravate him.”