‘I’d never…fish,’ the butler said, offended, and Marc gave a reluctant grin.
‘I’m very sure you would. What time did you say M’sieur Lavac is coming?’
‘Nine.’
‘Then I’d better eat my breakfast. And shower and change. And…is Miss Ingrid breakfasting yet?’
‘No, sir.’
‘What a shame. Well, I might have time for a quick walk before meeting M’sieur Lavac.’
‘Yes, sir.’ And Dominic turned away before Marc could see the involuntary smile that flashed into his wise old eyes. ‘I’m sure that would be a very good idea. The south lawn is lovely at this time of the morning.’
The south lawn was lovely, but Marc hardly noticed it. He’d showered and dressed in record time, donning what were for him very casual clothes. Jeans and an open-necked shirt and that was it. He’d been about to pull his shoes on but suddenly thought, dammit, why should I?
So he headed down the steps wearing bare feet.
He instantly regretted it. There was gravel between the steps and the lawn. His feet recoiled in instinctive reaction and Tammy, strolling up towards the entrance, saw him and laughed.
‘You’ve forgotten your royal slippers, Your Highness.’
‘I often go barefoot,’ he told her, but her smile deepened.
‘Yeah, like I often wear a tiara.’
‘Or elegant little black dresses?’ Her smile was magnetic, he thought. Gorgeous.
‘Sometimes it’s necessary to wear what the natives wear,’ she told him with dignity, and it was his turn to grin.
‘I agree. Hence the bare feet.’
She smiled still more and looked down at her own bare toes. ‘I don’t think you should copy me. I’m hardly a native here yet.’
‘You think you’ll be happy staying here permanently?’
‘Hey, give me a break. How can I make decisions like that already? I’ve only been here for one night.’
‘But you like what you see?’
‘I’m a bit worried about the standard of our accommodation,’ she told him, trying to keep laughter from her voice. ‘It’s not what I’m used to. But Henry and I have been discussing the matter. We suppose we can slum it.’ Her eyes twinkled. ‘After all, if you can then I guess we can, too. No Antipodean’s about to be surpassed in toughness by a Broitenburgian!’
She smiled once more, a gorgeous, all-enveloping smile, with lovely laughter lighting her eyes. And it set Marc back.
Henry was snuggled into her shoulder. He wasn’t asleep but he was clearly a happy, content and tired little boy. The way the child’s body curved into her breast did something to Marc’s insides that he hardly recognised. Marc stared at the picture woman and child made and thought-it looked good. They looked so at home in this setting. It was as if the baby was meant to be here. As if both were meant to be.
Woman and child seemed made for each other, and Tammy was standing on the castle steps as if she belonged.
This could work.
He’d been staring at her for too long, and she broke the silence before he’d finished with his train of thought. ‘Um…Marc, about a house of my own…’
He frowned, thrown off track. This certainly wasn’t where his thoughts had been leading. ‘A house of your own?’
‘Okay, not a gardener’s cottage,’ she conceded. ‘I see that such a place would be inappropriate for Henry. But for you to have me living here with you is also inappropriate. Last night… You must see that it can’t work.’
He thought about it and disagreed. ‘I think it worked very well last night.’
‘It didn’t.’ The humiliation she’d felt the previous night surfaced again, and with it anger. ‘If you think I’m going to play hostess to your mistress, you have another think coming.’
‘Hey, Ingrid’s not my mistress.’
‘No?’
He flushed. ‘Hell, Tammy…’
‘My mother says you’re a womaniser,’ she said flatly, her anger fading as she searched for a more temperate tone. What she was saying was unpleasant enough without hurling it at him in fury. But she’d been thinking things through and they both had to face the truth. ‘Whether that’s true or not hardly matters, but Mrs Burchett agrees that you go from one woman to another. She says Ingrid’s only been on the scene for a couple of months. She also says that now Ingrid’s getting possessive you’ll ditch her and there’ll be someone else.’
It was so close to the bone that he almost gasped. Damn it, how well did the servants know him? And how dared this unknown woman throw his personal affairs in his face?
‘This is none of your business.’ He was almost rigid with shock and fury, but she didn’t appear to notice.
‘It’s not,’ she agreed, with all the placidity in the world, ‘unless you try to kiss me again-which, if you know what’s good for you, you won’t. But if you intend to keep entertaining your women here-’
‘Will you leave my private life alone?’
She had no intention of doing so. She couldn’t. ‘It puts me in an impossible situation,’ she explained. ‘Like-what was my role here last night? Guest? Hostess? Or was Ingrid hostess? She did her best to put me down and made it clear that I was her absolute social inferior. Does that mean every time you change girlfriends I’m to be patronised by another woman?’
‘She didn’t patronise-’
‘Yes, she did,’ Tammy said softly. ‘You forget, I was raised with Lara and Isobelle. I can spot patronising from a mile off. And that’s the lesser issue. You having one woman after another will give Henry the wrong moral values.’
‘I don’t believe I’m hearing this.’
‘Someone has to say it,’ she said flatly. ‘If you want me to stay here then you need to find us alternative accommodation.’
‘The palace is yours,’ he told her, goaded. ‘There’s no need at all for these histrionics. I’m leaving.’
Silence.
It was early morning still. A gardener was heading over the far lawn with a wheelbarrow, and a couple of sparrows were engaged in an argument over the remains of a squashed worm right by Tammy’s feet. Otherwise the world seemed to hold its breath. Waiting…
‘You’re leaving?’ she said finally-almost conversationally-and he nodded.
‘Yes. As soon as you’re settled.’
‘Leaving me here alone?’
‘Not alone. With the staff.’
‘With the staff.’ She was thinking fast and was clearly unhappy with what she was coming up with. ‘You mean you’re intending to skive off and leave me with the responsibility for all of…?’ She gazed up at the castle and then turned to motion to the expansive grounds beyond. ‘All of this?’
No one had ever talked to him like this. No woman. What had she said-Skive? ‘I’m not leaving you with responsibility for anything,’ he snapped.
‘So you’re going-where?’
‘I told you. Renouys-my own establishment-is ten miles south of here.’
‘That’s right,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘I’d forgotten. You’re really a not important prince. So you’ll go back to being no one in particular and operate your secondary role as Prince Regent on the side?’
‘Actually,’ he told her through clenched teeth-his anger threatening to overwhelm him, ‘I’m an aquatic engineer. I design and advise on community water supplies, and I need to get back to my work.’
‘How fascinating,’ she snapped. ‘You miss your engineering, do you? Well, can I remind you that I’m not just Henry’s aunt? I’m a tree surgeon. I need to get back to my work.’
‘You can. Right here.’
‘But you can’t design whatever it is you design here as well?’
‘There’s no need…’
‘There’s every need. I don’t know the first thing about running castles. Nor do I intend to try.’
‘You don’t need to. The palace will run itself.’
‘Yeah, like it’s been running itself for the last ten years. Mrs B
urchett’s been telling me what a disaster it’s been.’
‘She’s been telling you too damn much.’
‘She’s been telling me how miserable they all were,’ she snapped. ‘How everything’s been pushed to the side. How Jean-Paul and his elder brother before him refused to take on any responsibility for either the palace or the broader principality. And here you are, ruler for the next twenty-five years whether you like it or not, taking yourself off from responsibility as fast as your legs can carry you. Landing me-’
‘I’m still coping with the political necessities of the crown. I’m not landing you with anything.’
‘No. Not with Henry?’
‘He’s your nephew.’
‘He’s your heir.’
‘He’s not my heir. Do you understand nothing about regencies?’
‘I understand enough,’ she said through gritted teeth. Henry had closed his eyes now, slumping down on her shoulder with the expression of a baby at peace with his world. ‘I understand that your responsibility is this kingdom-this principality-for twenty-five years. I understand that this place needs a leader. It’s desperate for a leader. I hadn’t been here for half an hour before I saw that, and according to the staff in the kitchen this palace is just a sample of how much the rest of the country’s in need of leadership. And off you go, heading back to your castle to be an aquatic engineer.’
‘I don’t need this. I never wanted-’
‘What? Responsibility? Commitment? Mrs Burchett told me how you’ve been running scared of it all your life. She told me about your mother-’
‘What the hell do you know about my mother?’ He was almost speechless.
‘That your father had an affair with Jean-Paul’s mother and broke your mother’s heart. That she committed suicide when you were twelve years old and your father drank himself to death soon after. That you blamed Jean-Paul’s family-the royal family-for destroying your childhood.’
‘I don’t believe I’m hearing this.’ How dared Mrs Burchett talk about him like this? He should stalk into the castle and sack her on the spot.
But…she’d only reiterated what every woman’s magazine in the principality had been saying for years. Like it or not, this was public knowledge.
Tammy was backing away, her anger fading as she realised that maybe she’d gone too far. ‘I know,’ she conceded, a hint of apology in her voice. ‘You’re right in that your past history is none of my business. But I didn’t have to be here long to see the staff are desperate. They want you here so much. They were trying to make me see…’
‘Make you see what?’
‘That you have to stay. They didn’t tell me you intended to go back to your home, but now that you’ve said it-I guess it explains their attitude. They’ll have known you intended to leave me and Henry here alone. Marc, I’m sorry about your past. I shouldn’t have brought it up, but…’
But he was past listening to apologies. He was almost past listening-period. ‘This has nothing to do with gossip,’ he exploded. ‘It has nothing to do with the past. I’m not a prince. I’m an engineer.’
But she couldn’t let him off the hook. She couldn’t. It was too important for so many people.
In a way it’d be a relief if he left, she thought. The man unsettled her in a way she hadn’t thought was possible. But the alternative-for her to care for Henry by herself in this amazing place…
It wouldn’t work. Henry needed her, but he needed Marc even more. For the little boy to be brought up as the future ruler of Broitenburg…
He needed Marc.
‘You’re the country’s leader,’ she told him, and waited.
‘By default. Henry’s the leader.’
‘Yeah, right.’ She shifted the sleeping little boy on her shoulder and gave him a wry look. ‘Is there anything you’d like him to sign right now? Any acts of parliament you’d like him to draft?’
‘I told you,’ he said with exaggerated patience, as if he was dealing with a fool, ‘I’ll be ten miles away. I’ll be caring for the political necessities. I can be over here in half an hour.’
‘Your place is here.’
‘No. Your place is here.’
‘So you brought me here. Very good. Well done. But you’re not skiving off.’
‘I told you, I have no intention of skiving…’
‘Marc?’
They hadn’t noticed her, but Ingrid was suddenly above them. She was standing on the top step, staring down in amazement at the warring couple below her. Perfectly groomed in country style-a pale cashmere cardigan over an elegantly cut little tweed skirt-she was beautifully made up, without a hair out of place. Her eyes went to Marc’s feet in horror. ‘What on earth are you doing outside?’ she demanded. ‘In bare feet?’
He couldn’t work out why she was so offended-whether it was because he was outside without her and talking to another woman, or because he was outside in bare feet. Despite the outrage of the last few moments he was forced to smile.
It was a very strained smile.
‘Sorting gravel with my toes,’ he admitted. ‘I wouldn’t advise it. Tammy here must have feet of leather. Good morning, Ingrid.’
There was no return smile. ‘Good morning.’ Her tones were like ice. Her greeting was addressed to Marc and only to Marc. Obviously she was still smarting from Tammy’s responses the night before. ‘I expected you in the breakfast room.’
‘I thought you were breakfasting in bed.’
‘I never breakfast in bed. The servants know that.’
He frowned over that one. I never breakfast in bed… ‘How long have you been here?’
‘Three days.’
He’d assumed she’d come yesterday. ‘Why on earth have you been here this long? You knew I wasn’t due back until yesterday.’
‘Someone has to keep an eye on the place,’ she said icily. ‘It’s your responsibility now, Marc. You can’t let the servants get away with murder.’
‘That’s just what I was saying,’ Tammy told her, sticking in her two bits’ worth. ‘Did you know his Royal Highness is hot-footing it back to his own property as soon as he can?’
‘Hot-footing?’ Ingrid’s perfect English failed her at that. She stared at Tammy as if she was something that had just crawled out of a piece of cabbage. ‘Hot-footing?’
‘Going back there to live,’ Tammy told her. ‘He’s planning on leaving me here-just to keep an eye on the place.’
‘What? By yourself?’ Her tone was incredulous.
‘That’s right. Well, just me and Henry.’ Tammy smiled at the downy head of her nephew. ‘His Highness says it makes sense. See if you can dissuade him, will you?’ She turned back to Marc. ‘Meanwhile, if you don’t want me to start ringing up realtors looking for houses to rent, maybe you’d better address the problem yourself. You must see this is impossible.’ She gave Marc her very brightest smile, dismissing him to a nicety. ‘I’m sorry, Your Big Highness, but I have to put His Little Highness to bed. If you’ll excuse me…?’
And she swept past them both with every appearance of a grande dame-bare feet and all.
For all her confidence in the face of Marc and his lady, Tammy was badly shaken. This palace was beautiful. This country was magnificent! But she hadn’t planned on being landed as mistress of the house.
Was she supposed to take on the role of woman in charge of the destiny of the heir to the country?
She supposed she was, she thought, as she watched Henry sleep, and, being fair, it wasn’t Marc’s fault that she’d been landed with such a role. It was her sister who’d landed her in it by naming her as Henry’s guardian.
Fine. She could look after Henry, she decided, but looking after the entire household and training Henry to his future role was another matter entirely.
‘Would you like to check the dinner menu?’ Mrs Burchett asked her mid-morning, and Tammy grimaced her dismay.
‘Why on earth would you ask me?’
‘I don’t like bothering His
Highness.’
‘What about Ingrid?’ Tammy asked, and the housekeeper gave a determined little shake of her head.
‘It’s you who’s the mistress here now. We’ve been discussing things in the servants’ quarters and it seems that’s the way that’ll suit everyone best. Now, what do you think of quail as main course?’
‘I think chicken’ll be better,’ Tammy faltered. ‘Because that’s what I feel like right now. A chicken without any tail feathers.’
Lunch turned out to be a meal of solitary splendour. Tammy decided to avoid a replay of last’s night’s argument, and after Dominic announced ‘Lunch will be served in fifteen minutes,’ she arrived in time. She even wore shoes.
She couldn’t make up her mind to be relieved or dismayed when Marc and Ingrid were nowhere to be seen.
‘His Highness and Miss Ingrid will be lunching elsewhere,’ Dominic told her in a voice that forbade further questions.
Good, she told herself firmly. This was good. This way she could get to know Marc’s butler-a man she’d sensed from the first could turn out to be a friend. He’d been silently watching her at breakfast, but she’d felt that she was being judged. If she got this man on side he could be a powerful ally.
And it worked. It took all of the first course for Tammy to elicit a thaw in the elderly butler, but by the time she’d demolished the home-grown strawberries for dessert she was almost sure she could count him amongst her friends.
So where were Marc and Ingrid?
‘They’ll have driven over to His Highness’s property,’ he told her. ‘Renouys. Although the staff would much prefer him to remain here, his Royal Highness doesn’t enjoy this place.’
‘Do you think you’ll persuade him to stay?’ Tammy asked, and the butler grimaced.
‘I hardly know,’ he admitted. ‘But any persuasion you can add would be very much appreciated.’
Yeah, right. How was she going to do that?
She thought about it and she didn’t have a clue. What she did know was that if Marc was off doing what he wanted she should do the same.
Her Royal Baby Page 10
