The Royals of Monterra: Royal Rivals (Kindle Worlds Novella)

by Rebecca Connolly

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  EPILOGUE

  Text copyright ©2017 by the Author.

  This work was made possible by a special license through the Kindle Worlds publishing program and has not necessarily been reviewed by Sariah Wilson. All characters, scenes, events, plots and related elements appearing in the original The Royals of Monterra remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Sariah Wilson, or their affiliates or licensors.

  For more information on Kindle Worlds: http://www.amazon.com/kindleworlds

  R O Y A L

  R I V A L S

  by

  Rebecca Connolly

  More from Rebecca Connolly

  Royals of Monterra:

  Royal Delivery

  An Arrangement of Sorts

  Married to the Marquess

  Secrets of a Spinster

  The Dangers of Doing Good

  Coming Soon

  Burdens of a Bachelor

  Acknowledgements

  For all the unlikable characters that are maybe just misunderstood.

  Big thanks go out to Hannah, Lisa, Maria, and Chris for their help with this project. A huge hug to Deborah for her amazing cover. And, as always, much love to Sariah Wilson for letting me play in this world of hers, and giving us these fun characters that I was mad enough to throw together. Everybody gets chocolate for this one!

  CHAPTER ONE

  House parties are not the sort of thing that the average person experiences. And with good reason. Why should they? Average people are average for a reason, and only the rare exception surpassed the rest by achieving an above-average status.

  The current queen of Monterra, for example, had snagged an above-average status for herself.

  But only extraordinary people ought to be in the monarchy, as I tried so desperately to explain to the Royal Family prior to this egregious lapse in judgment.

  For my efforts, I was unfairly demonized and barred from having anything to do with the Fiorelli family in any way, severing what had been a long and warm friendship I had shared with Nico, now the king. My family was still permitted their ties, though my sister Olivia assured me it was somewhat strained, but I was not.

  The indignity of it all was that the lies Kat MacTaggart had spread had poisoned me against the monarchy in my own country as well; I was no longer welcome to any event hosted by Alex and Caitlin unless my family was invited as a whole.

  There was no way to properly explain that to my parents, who were so proud of the influence our family has had in England over the last twelve generations. How could I face them and tell them that I, Lady Claire Elizabeth Anne Sutherland, had fallen out of favor with two monarchies, including our own?

  I could not.

  I would not.

  It was bad enough that I was not as tall or as beautiful or as graceful as Olivia, who also happened to be engaged to the son of an earl, but now to also be less socially sought after?

  I had to take matters into my own hands.

  I had avoided the appearance of any change in my status by involving myself with other individuals, taking a more active role in our family foundations, and had even had three boyfriends since Nico had shunned me.

  Of course, the boyfriends had been all for show and never would have truly done for me, but they hadn’t known that, nor had the public. Nor the journalists I had paid to pick up the stories.

  But this summer, for whatever reason, all of that had failed me. I had begun to appear suspiciously anti-social, so I accepted an invitation to a house party that I would never have considered before, despite being invited every year.

  It was hosted by Rosalia Catalano, a rather stunning Italian heiress from a predominant family that my parents knew well. She was a bit of a mouse compared to her party-loving brothers, Antonio and Severo, who had their personal paparazzi spread stories globally every Thursday.

  I had been to the family home in Milan any number of times in my younger years, but never recently, and I had never been to their villa in Tuscany. It wasn’t for lack of curiosity, just a wish to remain as far away from the Catalano brothers as possible. Now the invitation to the annual house party had been staring me in the face, taunting me with the opportunity to escape the curious gazes and Olivia’s superior smirk. I wouldn’t know many there, as the Catalanos associated with several foreign families that mine didn’t, but that might not be such an insurmountable obstacle. If they hadn’t heard of me, then they wouldn’t be close with the Fiorellis and I might be safe from false representation.

  Of course, there was also the risk that I wouldn’t be able to tolerate any of the guests. I tend to be particular with whom I consider my intimates, but I could learn to be amenable.

  Or I could seclude myself in a lovely Italian villa and simply enjoy the time away from everything, and everyone, else.

  Rosalia wouldn’t demand that I participate in every scheme of the party. She knew my tastes and my nature, and she was a submissive creature I could easily intimidate. It would be a perfect escape.

  Or it should have been.

  I should have sensed this trip would be more annoying than anything else when I arrived at the villa. Several girls with elaborate outfits, most of high cost and cheap taste, got out of expensive cars, escorted by stunningly handsome men that obviously held themselves in the highest regard, all chattering on and mixing insult with praise. I wasn’t fluent in Italian by any means, though I knew enough to manage an event should it come down to it, but I understood the general idea of their conversations.

  It faintly occurred to me to defend Rosalia and her family, but I let the impulse pass.

  I doubted it would do any good anyway. I was hardly the sort of defender the Catalanos desired. I had refused almost all of their invitations for years, only to now accept one out of sheer desperation.

  Of course, no one would know that. They would only know that I had finally found room in my demanding schedule to permit a week of entertainment with them, and nothing more.

  I fixed my trademark smirk on my face, confident that I certainly looked the part of Lady Claire Sutherland, and paused long enough for the idiot posse to pass through without linking myself with them in any way.

  I had enough to be getting on with, I hardly needed to add them to the mix.

  The villa was expansive, as I expected it to be. The Catalano family had never been shy about their extensive fortune, and this place showcased exactly their style of living. It rang of history and culture while exuding the sort of modern refinement that all the wealthiest families aimed for. No one looking at this place would possibly find a flaw in it; unless, of course, that person was a minimalist.

  It was an artist’s dream, and I was grateful I’d had the foresight to pack my supplies and camera. I might not manage to capture everything perfectly, but the efforts would bring it to life. If I could find the time to dabble in my secret passion for art at all.

  I sighed to myself as I stared at the villa. I had always loved the countryside, and here in the hills of Tuscany were some of the most sublime vistas and pristine estates I had seen in all of Europe. The warm sandstone of the house seemed to blend into the romantic surroundings, though its grandeur was of a different kind. I could have done without the massive fountain out in front; while it was beau
tiful in its artistry and architecture, it really was better suited to a garden than an entrance. And the peacocks…

  Well, surely there were enough of those waiting for us inside. To have more was excessive, even for them.

  “Lady Claire.”

  I looked up from my perusal of the entrance and the grounds. An older servant looked at me with a polite smile. I glanced behind me to my car, where my bags had been unloaded and the driver awaited instructions.

  “Yes,” I acknowledged, looking back at the servant, smirking still. “Is my room prepared?”

  He smiled still, which was unusually polite, and bowed. “Si, my lady,” he replied, his Italian accent prominent in his speech. “All is prepared, and we have settled you in the Alba suite.”

  Sunrise. Coincidentally my favorite time of day. Best not to read anything into that coincidence.

  I nodded and followed as he led the way into the house, pausing only slightly in awe of the spectacle inside of the villa. Marble and light as far as the eye could see, magnificent sculptures and portraits on the walls, people scattering about with bags and belongings; all things that I had seen before in my own family houses and estates. But for some inexplicable reason, I was struck by it now. Even in the chaos, there was order and grace, almost like a choreographed dance of sorts.

  I had never managed order and grace. I could be graceful in my appearance and my navigation of society, but I was no dancer. I could not be graceful in my movements or in my manner. Order I had mastered in every respect. I was a very well-ordered person.

  However well that had served me.

  The servant led me up the stairs and down a long corridor, thankfully away from the noisy group I’d arrived with, who appeared to be housed at the opposite end of the villa.

  The room was lovely, large, and grand, perfectly suited for my tastes in a fine powder blue, the large bed complete with hangings and embroidery as if taken from another time.

  “Does the room suit my lady?”

  I turned to face him and nodded once. “It will do.”

  Really, what else could I say? It was a room like any other room, and I’d expected nothing less. Not as fine as I had had in past holidays at grander estates, but well enough. I doubted they had anything finer except the family rooms, and I was not about to ask for that.

  I might be a snob, but I’m hardly that high and mighty.

  He bowed, looking very smart for a servant in crisp black and white attire. “Very good, my lady. I am Bernardo, and I am entirely at your service. You will have a maid attend you for anything you see fit, including the unpacking of your bags. I believe Maria is assigned to you, and she will be here shortly.”

  Well, a servant for my very own? That was generous of the Catalanos, though it would not surprise me if she were tending to several of us. Still, it was something.

  And more than I had at home these days.

  I nodded and took off my vest, laying it on the chair at the desk near me. “Thank you, Bernardo. Can you tell me what the schedule is for tonight? I was not sent anything resembling an itinerary.”

  Bernardo inclined his head. “Certainly, Lady Claire. I believe a full schedule will be explained this evening after dinner. This afternoon is to be for rest and settling in, and then dinner is at seven, followed by a dance and welcoming activities. I do not know the specifics of that.”

  I stiffened as I realized how that must have sounded and stammered uncharacteristically. “I didn’t mean to imply that…”

  Bernardo shook his head quickly, smiling again. “Non si preoccupi, my lady. I knew what you meant.”

  I exhaled a small sigh of relief. “Your English is very good, Bernardo.”

  “Grazie, my lady. I travel with the family quite often, and one does learn a thing or two.” He clasped his hands behind his back. “Would you like a tour of the house? Or would you prefer to rest for a time?”

  “I know the house well enough,” I told him, smiling back at him. Really, he was one of the most pleasant servants I’d ever met, and I’d been surrounded by many at one time or another. “Will it bother anyone if I wander about?”

  He shook his head again and gestured the way. “Prego! Si accomodi!”

  I took my phone out of my marble Prada tote and slid it into my back pocket, nodding my thanks. I didn’t want to watch some maid unpack my belongings, nor did I want to stay cooped up in my room like some delicate miss in a bygone era. I was without friends and without allies in this house party, and that was a rare thing for me.

  I needed to find Rosalia and reassure myself that someone here would be pleased to see me. Or acknowledge me. Or care at all that I had come.

  I would always crave the approval of others. We all have our flaws, and that was mine.

  There were others, of course, but no one should dwell all of one’s failings at once.

  Bernardo left me at the stairs, going to see to other guests now arriving. I went down the grand staircase quickly, keeping my head down on the off chance that someone would recognize me. Though the idea of someone saying, “You’re that girl who can’t go to Monterra anymore!” and pointing at me was a ridiculous one.

  And I was not forbidden from Monterra… just anything relating to its royal family.

  I scowled as I folded my arms and made a beeline for the back of the house. Several servants moved out of my path, and I didn’t blame them. I’d always been told that I had one of the most impressive glowers to ever grace a beautiful face. Honestly. I didn’t say it was beautiful, they did.

  Though, I could admit that I was really quite attractive. Short in stature, but on the beautiful side of attractive.

  Elvin. Petite. Diminutive.

  Oh, all right, I was a tiny thing that couldn’t ride all of the roller coasters at theme parks, but I was certainly tall enough for the ones that mattered.

  Not that I rode roller coasters on a regular basis.

  I was quite used to people not taking me seriously because of my lack of height, my own family included. But I more than made up for it with my personality. I had a bark that was matched by my bite, and those who knew better avoided both.

  I was pleased to find a stunning terrace, and hopefully none of the other guests knew about it yet. Besides, there was a swimming pool off to the left of it, and most of them would likely go there.

  Out on the terrace at last, I inhaled deeply, taking in the fresh Tuscany air and hoping it would soothe my rattling nerves. I’d been to several house parties in my life, many more impressive and lavish than this, and none of them had even made me blink. But recent events had made me wonder about myself, and the criticism of my family did not help matters.

  I couldn’t explain it, but it felt like this was my last chance.

  For what, I didn’t know.

  Why, I didn’t know.

  But I couldn’t breathe, and that alone scared me.

  There was something about Italy that I adored, whether it was the colors or the smells, the richness of the history and culture, or the warmth of its people. There was some magic about this corner of Europe, and being in the countryside made it all the more enriching for me. The view from the terrace was spectacular, with its rolling hills and glimpses of other fine houses, some more historical than others, and some with more striking gardens than others. Somewhere in the distance, I could hear music and laughter, and somehow I smiled at the sound.

  A loud shriek interrupted my reverie, followed by a loud splash. I looked over at the pool where, sure enough, the Catalano brothers had decided to toss one of the chatty girls from earlier into their pool. She’d been dressed like a tramp before, but now her limited clothing clung to her curves and dripped excess water down her exposed abs.

  The other girls had all huddled together protectively, but Antonio and Severo were too distracted by their victim and too busy laughing and congratulating themselves to see anyone else.

  I rolled my eyes and turned back for the house.

  So much for s
erenity.

  “Claire!” greeted a warm and softly accented voice.

  I looked up to see Rosalia smiling at me from the balcony just above me. She was dressed in a relaxed, yet somehow stylish way in crop jeans and loose pink shirt with a wide neck that waved in the breeze. Her dark hair was pulled back into a high ponytail and her face was almost completely free of makeup.

  Natural beauty. What an irritating sight.

  Still, I remembered that I liked Rosalia, and as my hostess, she was my best hope for the week. I smiled up at her. “Rosalia.”

  “I didn’t know you were here!” she squealed. “Wait right there, I’m coming down.”

  She whirled out of sight and I frowned in confusion. She was more excited to see me than anyone had ever been, and we had never been particularly close. I knew none of her secrets, and she absolutely knew none of mine. Wasn’t that the trademark of close friends?

  I didn’t know. All I’d ever really had were acquaintances and fake friends. The girls I’d gone to school with had all gone on to other things and not particularly cared if I were with them, or even knew about them. I didn’t mind. I had done the same thing with them. Oh, if we saw each other on the street we would pretend we were so thrilled to see one another and promise we would meet up soon, and then we never would. I’d been so focused on scoring a royal place in Monterra for myself, or even in England, before Caitlin had commandeered things, that friends had become less and less important to me.

  Until I was standing all alone with no royal title, no husband, and no friends.

  Huzzah for the brilliant and conniving Lady Claire Sutherland.

  What a proper English rose.

  Rosalia was soon bounding up to me and hugging me tightly, and I tried to return it, though it was the most awkward thing I’d done since tap lessons in primary school.