You're So Vain: A Royal Haters to Lovers Romance (Seven Brides for Seven Mothers Book 4)

by Whitney Dineen

  Yet, after tonight, I want to get to know everything about her. I have a feeling this strong pull I feel toward her is much more than just a passing fancy.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Sheila

  “I’m going to require regular updates,” Sheila tells the queen over breakfast.

  “When I know something, you’ll know it,” Charlotte assures her.

  “I wish I could stay.”

  “Why can’t you? With Lutéce out at Bree’s cottage, she never even has to know that you’re here.”

  Sheila immediately perks up. “Does Bree come to the palace often?”

  “Not usually, and even if she did, this place is big enough that she’d never need to know you’re here.”

  “What if someone tells her?”

  “Are you forgetting that I’m the queen?” Charlotte asks with a smile. “If I tell people that your continued visit is to be kept quiet, I assure you, it will remain our secret.”

  “I’m gonna do it!” Sheila declares. “Phillipe is leaving on a business trip, so he won’t miss me. And even though I won’t be able to see Lu while I’m here, I’ll feel better being close by.”

  “Well then, my friend,” the queen tells her, “it looks like you and I are going to have some fun.”

  Lutéce

  I have no idea what to wear to the orphanage. I’d feel most comfortable in jeans and a sweater, but I don’t want to make Alistair look bad if I’m expected to dress nicer than that. I finally settle on a pair of gray wool slacks and a cream-colored sweater. I’m not overdressed, and I’m not underdressed. Like Goldilocks, I declare myself just right before getting busy doing my hair and putting on makeup.

  It took me ages to get to sleep last night. My mind was busy replaying scene after scene of my time with Alistair. The result is dark circles under my eyes which take a bit of effort to hide. I’m tempted to go full drag queen on the concealer, but decide that might not be the best look on me.

  When I walk into the dining room, I discover Alistair sitting at the table with both of our mothers. He stands when he sees me. “Good morning, Lu.”

  “Hi there,” I return his greeting, feeling a bit shy after all we shared about ourselves last night.

  “Did you two kids have fun out on the boat?” my mom wants to know.

  “It was very nice,” I tell her, hoping I sound casual. I don’t want her to pick up on my newfound attraction toward Alistair. The last thing I need is for her to say something that will embarrass me. She has specialized in that bit of mothering for as long as I can remember.

  “I understand Bree didn’t join you,” Queen Charlotte says.

  “I believe that was your doing,” Alistair tells his mom.

  “What? No. Wherever did you get that idea?”

  “Grady,” he tells her.

  “There must have been a misunderstanding. I called Grady to tell him I was having something delivered to the dock for Bree. He must have thought I meant for Bree to stay on the dock.” Then she executes a forced-sounding laugh and tries to change the subject by asking, “What did you have for supper?”

  “What were you delivering to her?” Alistair ignores her question.

  Queen Charlotte looks up with a startled expression on her face. “I was… she was… it was…”

  We have no idea what she’s about to say because my mom stands up and announces, “What a wonderful breakfast! Charlotte, are you ready for our walk in the garden?”

  The queen pops up like a jack-in-the-box. “Absolutely! I can’t wait to show you my salmon-colored Floribunda.”

  As soon as our mothers leave the room, Alistair announces, “My mum is up to something.”

  “My mom is always up to something,” I tell him. “Welcome to the club.”

  While arranging some scrambled egg on his fork, he says, “It was almost like she was trying to give us time alone, but that can’t be because she’s already warned me that I’m to stay away from you.” He looks up from his plate and gives me a look that causes the butterflies to come back en masse.

  “Why did she warn you to stay away from me?” Is there something wrong with me?

  “She thinks I’m a player and she doesn’t want me toying with your affections.”

  “Meanwhile, my mother is convinced that I should either marry you or Andrew.”

  “My brother is quite a catch.” His tone takes a serious turn. I’m guessing because he doesn’t identify himself as a catch, he’s not trying to sell himself on me. More’s the pity.

  Deciding a change of topic is in order, I ask, “What do you do when you’re at the orphanage?”

  “I either play with the kids or read to them. As wonderful as the nuns are, they’re so busy keeping everything running they don’t have time to toss a ball around or read books that are outside of the school curriculum.”

  “That sounds like fun. I haven’t played in a very long time.” I’ve been too busy being an adult to take time to nurture my inner child. Maybe that’s part of my problem.

  “It’s good for the soul,” he tells me.

  After we finish our breakfasts, Alistair stands up and walks over to the sideboard. He starts packing the sweet-tasting breads and muffins into a large basket that’s sitting on a nearby side table. “Are you worried you’re going to get hungry?” I joke.

  “I bring leftovers for the kids. While they always have plenty of food, they love to get treats from the palace.”

  That is so sweet that I’m once again struck by how different Alistair is from the man I thought him to be. “Do you have enough for everyone?” I ask.

  “The cook makes extra on days when I visit. We’ll need to stop off in the kitchen and pick up the rest.”

  After retrieving another basket, we exit through the kitchen door. Alistair’s car is right outside. “I have to warn you,” he tells me as soon as he puts the car into gear. “The nuns will not let you date any of the boys.”

  I slap him on the arm as I burst out laughing. “I should have never told you about Benedict.”

  “Benedict is my new hero. Imagine having the guts to perpetrate such a deception, all in the hope of finding love at the tender age of fourteen.”

  “He told me he’d look me up in four years when he turns eighteen. It’s the best offer I’ve had in a long time,” I joke back.

  The drive into town only takes five minutes. The rolling farmland is dotted with a forested area and even a small lake. It’s like being inside a painting from the eighteenth century. As soon as Alistair pulls up at our destination, the front door blows open and several children come running out.

  “You’re here!” a young redheaded girl calls out as she jumps up to see what’s in Alistair’s basket. “Did you bring the chocolate ones?”

  “I only have a few of those,” he tells her before taking out a pan au chocolate and handing it to her.

  A short nun hurries forward and announces, “No treats until you wash your hands. Hurry now.” She shoos them back through the front door before turning to Alistair. She sternly admonishes, “You know you’re not supposed to hand out any food outside of the dining hall.”

  “I’m sorry, Sister.” He lets his head hang like he’s contrite, but I’m pretty sure the nun and I both know he’s not. Then he says, “Sister Hennepin, this is Lutéce Choate. Her sister is marrying my brother.”

  The small nun looks up at me and studies me in a way that makes me feel decidedly uncomfortable. Then she looks down at my feet and announces, “The little girls will be happy to see that you don’t really wear potato sacks on your feet.”

  I have no idea what that’s supposed to mean, but when I look at Alistair his face turns red, and he says, “Bugger. I forgot all about that.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Queen Charlotte

  “That was a close one,” Charlotte tells Sheila as they stroll through the halls of the palace in the direction of the courtyard.

  “Hopefully Alistair will forget all ab
out why you wanted Bree off the boat.”

  “I doubt he will, but there’s no way I’m going to tell him the truth.” Sliding open a large glass door, the queen leads the way out onto a rock-paved terrace.

  “Lu seemed happier this morning than I’ve seen her in a long time,” Sheila announces. “I wonder if something interesting happened last night.”

  “I have a feeling that if it did, we’ll never know about it. At least until the two of them are ready to come out as a couple.”

  “We need to prepare ourselves for the chance that something might not happen,” Sheila says. “My daughter isn’t the most warm and fuzzy person. Chances are that even if Alistair is the one for her, she’ll fight it just to prove me wrong.”

  “Kids,” the queen commiserates. “If they’d only realize we weren’t the enemy.” Leading the way into the rose garden, she adds, “I was thinking we could pick the flowers for the bridal bouquet right from our garden, depending on the time of year Geoffrey and Claire decide to get married, that is.”

  “When do you suggest they set the date for?” Sheila asks.

  “Next week would work for me,” the queen laughs.

  “Everyone would think it was a shotgun wedding. Plus, both Claire and Geoffrey have to go back to Oregon and pack up their houses for the move. I don’t think we should expect the big day before spring.”

  “It’s a good thing we have another romance to focus on then.” Queen Charlotte grins slyly.

  Alistair

  “Language, young man,” Sister Hennepin admonishes.

  Crap. This time I say it to myself. “I’m sorry, Sister.” Maybe my getting reprimanded by a nun will be enough to distract Lu from what she just heard.

  “Why would I be wearing potato sacks on my feet?” she whispers to me as we follow Sister Hennepin into the abbey.

  So much for distracting her.

  “That’s just an old Malquarian saying. It means, the children will be happy to know that you’re well off enough to be able to afford shoes.” I’m the worst when it comes to lying, but I hope she'll just chalk the whole thing up to cultural differences.

  We become the center of much attention as soon as we walk into the dining hall. Millicent walks over and looks up at Lu and demands, “Hello. Who are you?”

  “My name is Lutéce,” my companion tells her. “My sister is marrying the prince’s brother.”

  “Lutéce?” She looks down at Lu’s feet and then up at me. “Is she the one from your story?”

  “What story?” Lu wants to know.

  “Just an old fairy tale I was telling the children the other day.”

  “It was a story about a prince named Alistair and a princess named Lutéce. The princess didn’t like the prince.”

  “Really?” Lu asks, giving me the side-eye.

  “The Lutéce in the story was as beautiful as you are, but she was always mean to the prince. She had a horrid disposition.”

  “Interesting,” Lu replies. “Where do the potato sacks come in?”

  “Oh, that.” Millicent has her hands on her hips as she looks at Lu’s feet. “Apparently Princess Lutéce had feet so big, they couldn’t fit into real shoes, and she had to wear sacks. But you have on very nice shoes and your feet look normal, so I guess the story isn’t about you after all.”

  “It certainly isn’t,” I tell Millicent.

  “Is Lutéce a common name around here?” Lu asks.

  “Yes, of course,” I answer at the same time Millicent shakes her head and announces, “I had never heard it before Prince Alistair’s story.”

  I half expect Lu to storm out of the orphanage and never speak to me again, so I’m delightfully surprised when she starts to laugh instead. She tips her head back, closes her eyes, and clutches her belly. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

  She tells Millicent, “I think I’ve heard that fairy tale before.”

  “Really, how does it end? Prince Alistair didn’t tell us,” Millicent declares.

  “Princess Lutéce went to a witch and got a potion that turned Prince Alistair into a frog.” Her eyes are sparkling with mischief.

  “Does the princess have to kiss the prince to turn him back?” Young Beatrice joins in the conversation.

  “Oh, no,” Lu tells her. “There’s no kissing because Princess Lutéce doesn’t kiss frogs.”

  “The princess always kisses the frog,” Curtis says.

  Lu tells him, “This particular princess had already kissed more frogs than she could count, and they never turned into handsome princes. That’s why she made a sacred vow to never kiss another frog as long as she lived.” Lu sounds very determined on this count.

  “I know, I know,” another girl declares excitedly. “I bet it’s like it was in Shrek where Princess Fiona became an ogre like Shrek. I bet Princess Lutéce becomes a frog so she and Prince Alistair can live happily ever after!”

  “That’s not how I heard the story.” Lu tugs on the little girl’s braid.

  “What did you hear?”

  “I heard that Princess Lutéce went back to the witch to buy another spell to shrink her feet, but the potion she got made her feet even bigger. They got so big, her parents had to add on to their castle just to fit them. But even that wasn’t enough. Her big toes alone grew bigger than hundred-year oak trees and she was banished to the woods to live out her life alone.”

  “That’s a bad fairy tale,” Millicent announces indignantly.

  “I have to agree.” I finally decide to add my two cents. I tell Lu, “Fairy tales by their very nature are contractually obligated to offer a happy ending.”

  “Contractually obligated?” she asks with a snort. “Who draws up a contract like that?”

  “The fairy tale king of course,” I tell her. Walking over to my favorite chair, I sit down and address the group of children who follow me. “I have an idea,” I tell them. “Anyone who wants to can write a new ending for this fairy tale. We’ll have a contest, and when we have all your entries, we’ll pick a winner.”

  “What does the winner get?” Millicent pipes up.

  “What do you think would be a good prize?” I ask.

  “I want to be invited to the palace for tea,” she decides.

  “I want a new baseball mitt,” Curtis says.

  “I want a pretty new robe with an extra-long sash so I can wrap it around my waist three times like a ninja,” Beatrice decides.

  “Okay,” I tell my audience, which includes all the children as well as Sister Hennepin. “Anyone who wants to enter, can. All they have to do is write a new ending to the fairy tale about Prince Alistair and Princess Lutéce. The winner will be able to choose their own prize.”

  “You have two weeks,” Sister Hennepin announces, “and you will be graded on your story for your writing class.”

  “Noooooo …” several of the children groan at the same time. A stern look from Sister Hennepin causes them to visibly shrink. I know just how they feel. My childhood was spent wishing there was a hole in the floor I could crawl into, so I didn’t have to suffer the nun’s death stare.

  “But you get to pick your own prize,” I tell them.

  “Within reason,” Sister Hennepin counters.

  “Anything you want!” I assure them.

  “Alistair,” my old tutor cautions, “you may be a prince, but you don’t make the rules for the children. I do that.”

  “We’ll have to get the sister’s approval, but I assure you, the prize will be a good one,” I tell the kids.

  I look for Lutéce, but she’s not standing where she was. She’s currently sitting on a chair across the room with Beatrice on her lap. The little girl is petting Lu’s hair and whispering something into her ear. Lu’s expression is so loving and raw it breaks my heart. She looks so natural with a child on her lap, I say a quick prayer that her dreams of motherhood come true.

  Every child in this orphanage deserves to be loved and nurtured and spoiled. Lu wants a child so badly,
I wonder if maybe one of these kids wouldn’t just be a perfect place for her to start. I’d have to talk to my parents about the logistics. I’m not sure if you have to be a Malquarian citizen to adopt a child from here, but it’s definitely something worth looking into.

  I stand up and walk over to Lu and Beatrice. When I arrive, I ask, “Are you going to write an ending for the story, Beatrice?”

  Her eyes fill with tears as she answers, “I want to, but I don’t write so good yet.”

  “Maybe instead of writing your story, you could tell it to us,” I offer. “What do you think about that?”

  “I’m going to do it!” she says excitedly. “I’ll make up the bestest ending in the whole wide world.”

  That’s when I realize there is no way we can pick one winner. This isn’t like a sporting competition where there’s an obvious victor. These are children’s hopes and dreams they’re competing for. They’ve had enough of those dashed that I vow each and every one of them that puts forth an effort on this project will win the prize they ask for.

  If it’s something I can give them, that is.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Sheila

  “Charlotte thinks she can keep my presence quiet so I can stay on in Malquar. Why don’t you join me?” Sheila asks while sitting on Tooty’s bed and watching her pack.

  “Can’t,” Tooty tells her. “I’m due in the studio to start recording my new track.”

  “I’ll miss you.”

  “I’ll miss you too, hon. Depending on how long you’re going to be here, maybe I’ll come back for a visit,” Tooty says.

  “You could bring that daughter of yours along. Maybe we can set her up with Andrew and she could be queen someday.”

  “Unless Andrew has a hundred tattoos under his clothes and rides a Harley for kicks, I don’t think Reagan will go for it. She likes bad boys.”

  “She gets that from her mama,” Sheila says, while pulling out a sweater from her sister’s suitcase and holding it up to herself.