Cinderella: Hired by the Prince

by Marion Lennox

  He stared at her as if she’d grown two heads. ‘What the…?’

  ‘That’s what Sofía said we should do.’

  ‘I do not want you as my mistress,’ he said through gritted teeth.

  ‘So you don’t want me?’ His anger was building, and she thought good. An angry Ramón might just lose control, and control had gone on long enough. She wanted him to take her into his arms. In truth she wanted him to take her any way he wanted, but he was fighting his anger, hauling himself back from the brink.

  ‘I want you more than life itself, but I will not take you.’ He took a deep ragged breath. ‘I could never keep you safe.’

  ‘Well, that’s nonsense. I know karate,’ she retorted. ‘I can duck and I can run and I can even punch and scratch and yell if I need to. Not that I’ll need to. Perpetua says Carlos is all bluster.’

  ‘Perpetua…’

  ‘Is a very nice lady with an oaf for a husband and with very old-fashioned ideas about royal wives shutting up. Ideas that I don’t believe for one minute. You’ll never see me shutting up.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said, exasperated. ‘I want you free.’

  ‘Free?’ She was fighting on all fronts now, knowing only that she was fully exposed and she had no defence. All she had was her love for this man. ‘Like our whale?’ she demanded. ‘That’s just perspective. Our whale’s free now to swim to Antarctica, but she has to stop there and turn around. A minnow can feel free in an aquarium if it’s a beautiful aquarium.’

  She hesitated then, seeing the tension on his face stretched almost to breaking point. She’d gone far enough. ‘Ramón, let’s not take this further,’ she said gently. ‘What’s between us…let’s leave it for now. Let’s just think of Philippe. Is his room still as it was at the palace?’

  ‘No one’s touched the nursery.’

  ‘So you could go in right now and say, Philippe, what about coming back to the palace for a night or two? Tell him maybe if it works out he could come for two nights every week. See how it goes.’

  ‘Jenny…’

  ‘Okay, maybe it is impossible,’ she said. ‘This is not my life and it’s not my little cousin. But you know him now, Ramón, and maybe things have changed. All I know is that Philippe’s breaking his heart in there, and if he returned to the palace there’s no way he’d be alone. Consuela is looking out the window and I wouldn’t mind betting she knows exactly what we’re talking about. She’s bursting to visit the palace, even if she’s scared, and if you raise one finger to beckon she’ll have bags packed and Bebe in his cat crate and you can still reach your three o’clock appointment. And, before you start raising quibbles like who’ll look after their alpacas, you’re the prince, surely you can employ half this district to look after this farm. So decide,’ she said bluntly. ‘You’ve been making life and death decisions about this country. Now it’s time to make one about your family.’

  ‘Philippe’s not my family.’

  ‘Is he not? It might have started with sympathy, Ramón Cavellero, but it’s not sympathy that’s tugging him to you now. Is it?’

  ‘I don’t do…love.’

  ‘You already have. Just take the next step. All it needs is courage.’ She hesitated. ‘Ramón, I know how it hurts to love and to lose. You’ve loved and you’ve lost, but Philippe is going right on loving.’

  ‘He can’t,’ he said but he was looking at the window where Consuela was indeed peeping through a chink in the curtains.

  And then he was looking at Jenny-Gianetta-who knew which?-and she was looking back at him with faith. Faith that he could take this new step.

  ‘You can,’ she said.

  ‘Gianetta,’ he said and would have taken her into his arms right then, part in exasperation, part in anger-and there were a whole lot more parts in there besides, but she held up her hands in a gesture of defence.

  ‘Not me. Not now. This is you and Philippe. Do you want him or not?’

  He looked at her for a long moment. He glanced back at the farmhouse, and Philippe was at the window now, as well as Consuela.

  And there was only one answer to give.

  So, half an hour later-Ramón would be late for his meeting but not much-his little red Boxster finally left the farmhouse, with Philippe once again snuggled between Ramón and Jenny. There was a cat crate at Jenny’s feet. The Boxster was definitely crowded.

  Behind them, Consuela and Ernesto drove their farm truck, packed with enough luggage to last them for two days.

  Or more, Jenny thought with satisfaction. There were four big suitcases on the back. For all she talked of class differences, Consuela seemed more than prepared to take a leap into the unknown.

  If only Ramón could join her.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  T HE moment he swung back into the palace grounds affairs of State took over again. Ramón couldn’t stay to watch Philippe’s reaction to being back at the palace. He couldn’t stay to see that Consuela and Ernesto were treated right.

  He couldn’t stay with Jenny.

  ‘We can do this. Go,’ Jenny told him and he had no choice. He went, to meeting upon interminable meeting. Once again he was forced to work until the small hours.

  Finally, exhausted beyond belief, he made his way through the palace corridors towards his personal chambers. Once again he passed Jenny’s door-and he didn’t knock.

  But then he reached the nursery. To his surprise, Manuel was standing outside the door, at attention. The footmen were posted at the top of the stairs. Had a change been ordered? But Manuel spoke before he could ask.

  ‘I’m not permitted to move,’ the man said, and it was as if a statue had come to life. ‘But the little boy and Señorina Bertin… I thought you wouldn’t wish them harm so I took it upon myself to stay here.’

  ‘Good idea.’ He hesitated, taking in the full context of what the man had said. Reaching the crux. ‘Señorina Bertin’s in there?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ Manuel said and he opened the nursery door before Ramón could say he hadn’t meant to go in; he was only passing.

  Only of course he had meant to go in. Just to check.

  Manuel closed the door after him. The room was in darkness but the moon was full, the curtains weren’t drawn and he could see the outline of the bed against the windows. It was a truly vast bed for a small child. A ridiculous bed.

  He moved silently across the room and looked down-and there were two mounds in the bed. A child-sized one, with a cat-shaped bump over his feet, and a Jenny-shaped one, and the Jenny-shaped one spoke.

  ‘You’re not a Hun?’ she whispered, and he blinked.

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘Manuel’s saving us from the Huns. I thought you might have overpowered him and be about to…plunder and pillage. I’m very glad you’re not.’

  ‘I’m glad I’m not a Hun either,’ he said and smiled down at her, and he could feel her smile back, even if he couldn’t quite see it. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Shh. He’s only just gone back to sleep.’

  He tugged a chair forward and sat, then leaned forward so he was inches away from Jenny’s face. Philippe was separated from them by Jenny’s body but he could see that her arm was around him. The sight made him feel…made him feel…

  No. There were no words to describe it.

  ‘This is Consuela’s job,’ he managed.

  ‘She was here until midnight. The staff put Consuela and Ernesto into one of the state apartments, and it’s so grand it’s made Ernesto quiver. Ernesto seems more frightened than Philippe so I said I’d stay.’

  She said she’d stay. With a little boy who was the same age as her Matty. In this room that he’d once slept in. He looked at her, at the way Philippe’s body was curved against hers, at the way she was holding him, and he felt things slither and change within him. Knots that had been around his heart for ever slipped away, undone, free.

  ‘Gianetta…’ he whispered and placed his fingers on her lips, wondering. If she’d fo
und the courage to do this…

  ‘Shh,’ she said again. ‘He woke and he was a little upset. I don’t want him to wake again.’

  ‘But you soothed him.’

  ‘I told him the story of the whale. He loved it. I told him about his cousin, the hero, saviour of whales. Saviour of this country. We both thought it was pretty cool.’

  ‘Gianetta…’

  ‘Jenny. Your employee. And Manuel is out there.’

  ‘Manuel can go…’

  ‘Manuel can’t go,’ she said seriously. ‘Neither of us is sure where to take this. You need to sleep, Ramón.’

  ‘I want…’

  ‘I know,’ she said softly and she placed a finger on his lips in turn. ‘We both want. I can feel it, and it’s wonderful. But there’s things to think about for both of us. For now… Give me my self-respect and go to your own bedroom tonight.’ She smiled at him then and he was close enough to see a lovely loving smile that made his heart turn over. ‘Besides,’ she said. ‘Tonight I’m sleeping with Philippe. One man a night, my love. I have my reputation to think of.’

  ‘He’s not Matty,’ he said before he could stop himself.

  ‘Philippe’s not Matty, no.’

  ‘But… Jenny, doesn’t that tear you in two?’

  ‘I thought it would,’ she said on a note of wonder. ‘But now… He fits exactly under my arm. He’s not Matty but it’s as if Matty has made a place for him. It feels right.’

  ‘Jenny…’

  ‘Go to bed, Ramón,’ she said simply. ‘We all have a lot of thinking to do this night.’

  He left and she was alone in the dark with a sleeping child. She’d given her heart, she thought. She’d given it to both of them, just like that.

  What if they didn’t want it?

  It was theirs, she thought, like it or not.

  Bebe stirred and wriggled and padded his way up the bed to check she was still breathing, that she’d still react if he kneaded his paws on the bedcover.

  ‘Okay, I can learn to love you, too,’ she told the little cat. ‘As long as your claws don’t get all the way through the quilt.’ Satisfied, Bebe slumped down on the coverlet across her breast and went back to sleep, leaving her with her thoughts.

  ‘They have to want me,’ she whispered in the dark. ‘Oh, they have to want me or I’m in such big trouble.’

  And in the royal bedchamber, the apartment of the Crown Prince of Cepheus, there was no sleep at all.

  Once upon a time a child had slept alone in this palace and known terror. Now the man lay alone in his palace and knew peace.

  He woke and he knew, but he couldn’t do a thing about it.

  It’d take him a week, Señor Rodriguez told him, this signing, signing and more signing. He had to formally accept the role of Crown Prince before he could begin to delegate, so from dawn his time was not his own.

  ‘I need two hours this afternoon,’ he growled to his lawyer as he saw his packed diary. ‘You’ve scheduled me an hour for lunch. Take fifteen minutes from each delegation; that gives me another hour, so between one and three is mine.’

  ‘I’ve already started organising it,’ his lawyer told him. ‘We all want you to have time with the child.’

  ‘All?’

  ‘I believe the staff have been missing him,’ the lawyer said primly. ‘It seems there are undercurrents neither the Princess Sofía nor I guessed.’

  He didn’t say more, but they agreed a message would be sent to Jenny and to Philippe that he’d spend the early afternoon with them. Then Ramón put his head down and worked.

  He finished just before one. He’d have finished earlier only someone dared ask a question. Was he aware there were up to fifty students in each class in the local schools, and didn’t he agree this was so urgent it had to be remedied right now?

  He did agree. How could he put his own desire to be with Jenny and Philippe before the welfare of so many other children? Señor Rodriguez disappeared, leaving Ramón to listen and think and agree to meet about the issue again tomorrow. Finally he was free to walk out, to find the whereabouts of Philippe…and of Jenny.

  ‘They’re by the pool, Your Highness.’ It was the maid who normally brought in his coffee and, to his astonishment, she smiled as she bobbed her normal curtsy. ‘It’s so good to have him back sir. There’s refreshments being served now. If you’d like to have your lunch with them…’

  Bemused, he strolled out the vast palace doors into the gardens overlooking the sea.

  There was a party happening by the pool, and the perfection of the scene before him was marred. Or not marred, he corrected himself. Just changed.

  The landscape to the sea had been moulded to create a series of rock pools and waterfalls tumbling down towards the sea. Shade umbrellas and luxurious cream beach loungers were discreetly placed among semi-tropical foliage, blending unobtrusively into the magical garden setting.

  Now, however… At the biggest rock pool chairs and tables had been hauled forward to make a circle. There were balloons attached around every umbrella. This wasn’t tasteful at all, he thought with wry amusement. The balloons were all colours and sizes, as though some had been blown up by men with good lungs, and some had been blown up by a five-year-old. They were attached to the umbrellas by red ribbons, with vast crimson bows under each bunch.

  And there were sea dragons floating in the rock pool. Huge plastic sea dragons, red, green and pink, with sparkly tiaras. Sea dragons with tiaras? What on earth…?

  Jenny was in the water, and so was Philippe and so was…Sofía? They were on a sea dragon apiece, kicking their way across the water, seemingly racing. Sofía was wearing neck to knee swimmers and she was winning, whooping her elderly lungs out with excitement.

  There was more, he thought, stunned. Señor Rodriguez was sitting by the edge of the pool, wearing shorts, his skinny frame a testament to a life spent at his desk. He was cheering Sofía at full roar. As were Consuela and Ernesto, yelling their lungs out for their foster son. ‘Go, Philippe, go!’

  There were also servants, all in their ridiculous uniforms, but each of them was yelling as loudly as everyone else. And another woman was cheering too, a woman who looked vaguely familiar. And then he recognised her. Perpetua. Carlos’s wife! What the…?

  He didn’t have time to take it all in. Sofía reached the wall by a full length of sea dragon. Philippe came second and Jenny fell off her dragon from laughing.

  It felt crazy. It was a palace transformed into something else entirely. He watched as Philippe turned anxiously to find Jenny. She surfaced, still laughing, she hugged him and his heart twisted and he forgot about everything, everyone else.

  She saw him. She waved and then staggered-holding Philippe with one arm was a skill yet to be mastered. ‘Welcome to our pool party, Your Highness,’ she called. ‘Have you come to try our sausage rolls?’

  ‘Sausage rolls,’ he said faintly, and looked at the table where there was enough food for a small army.

  ‘Your chefs have never heard of sausage rolls,’ she said, clambering up the pool steps with Philippe in her arms and grinning as Sofía staggered out as well, still clutching her sea dragon. ‘Philippe and I had to teach them. And we have fairy bread and lamingtons, and tacos and tortillas and strawberries and éclairs-and I love this place. Philippe does too, don’t you Philippe? We’ve decided it’s the best place to visit in the world.’

  Visit. He stood and watched as woman and child disappeared under vast towels and he thought…visit.

  ‘Oh, and we invited Perpetua,’ Jenny said from under her towel, motioning in the general direction of the pallid little lady standing uncertainly under the nearest umbrella. Perpetua gave him a shy, scared smile. ‘You know Carlos’s wife? And Carlos, too.’

  ‘And Carlos, too?’ he demanded. Perpetua’s smile slipped.

  ‘I told him to come,’ she whispered. ‘When Gianetta invited us. He said he would. He just has to…he’s been making silly threats that he doesn’t mean. He w
ants to apologise.’ Her voice was almost pleading. ‘He’d never hurt…’

  And maybe he wouldn’t, Ramón thought. For Carlos was approaching them now, escorted by palace footmen. The footmen were walking really close. Really close.

  ‘He’s not going to hurt anyone,’ Perpetua whispered. ‘He’s just been silly. I was so pleased when Gianetta rang. He needs a chance to explain.’

  ‘Explain what?’ Ramón said and Perpetua fell silent, waiting for Carlos himself to answer.

  Ramón’s gaze flew to Jenny. She met his gaze full on. She’d set this up, he thought.

  One of the maids had taken over rubbing Philippe dry. The maid was laughing and scolding, making Philippe smile back. She was a servant he’d thought lacked emotion.

  Had the servants turned to ice through mistreatment and fear?

  What else had fear done?

  He looked again at Carlos, a big, stupid man who for a few short weeks, while Ramón couldn’t be found, had thought the throne was his. For the dream to be snatched away must have shattered his world.

  Maybe stupid threats could be treated as they deserved, Ramón thought, feeling suddenly extraordinarily light-headed. And if threats weren’t there…

  ‘We invited both Carlos and Perpetua,’ Jenny was saying. ‘Because of Philippe. Philippe says Perpetua’s always been nice to him.’

  ‘He’s a sweetheart,’ Perpetua said stoutly, becoming braver. ‘I worried about him whenever I stayed here.’

  ‘You used to stay in the palace?’ Ramón asked, surprised again. What had Señor Rodriguez told him? Perpetua was a nice enough woman, intelligent, trained as a grade school teacher, but always made to feel inferior to Carlos’s royal relatives.

  ‘A lot,’ Perpetua said, becoming braver. ‘Carlos liked being here. Philippe and I became friends, didn’t we, sweetheart. But then Carlos said some silly things.’ Her gaze met her husband’s. ‘I used to believe…well, I’m a royal wife and a royal wife stays silent. But Gianetta says that’s ridiculous. So I’m not staying silent any longer. You’re sorry, aren’t you, dear?’