by Kate Hardy
It was magnificent. But it was also very formal, and it didn’t leave her with the warmth she felt with their own Christmas tree back in London, with its decorations that had been collected year after year by her mother and every single one of them had meaning and memories. Their rather threadbare artificial Christmas tree didn’t go up until the week before Christmas; here, it was early November and already everything was in its place. Then again, she supposed, things were different with the public rooms of a palace; visitors would expect to see decorations on display this early.
Behind the beautiful garlands of fir and pine on the mantels and staircases, the rooms were richly decorated, with cream walls and lots of gold everywhere. There were huge windows, large mirrors that reflected the light back from the windows and the crystal and gold chandeliers and made the rooms seem even more massive, ceilings covered with priceless paintings, Christmas trees in every room whose decorations she suspected had been put in place with a ruler measuring the precise distance between each one, enormous exotic poinsettias gracing side tables, sweeping staircases leading into long corridors, luxurious carpets you literally sank into as you walked on them...
It was another world, one where the likes of Tia could never fit in.
And it was overwhelming.
Tia was aware that Antonio was talking to her as he ushered her up the sweeping staircase to his first-floor apartment, but she couldn’t concentrate on what he was saying. All she could see was the regal magnificence of their surroundings, and it left her feeling more and more out of place.
Finally he opened a door and indicated to her to enter.
His sitting room was much more ordinary than the rest of the palace. The furniture here didn’t look too antique and too priceless to touch, let alone sit on, and to her relief there was much less gold in evidence. There were photographs on the mantelpiece in what looked like solid gold frames, mainly of what she assumed was Antonio’s family; but there were also photographs of Antonio’s team in the army, and tears pricked her eyelids when she recognised her brother among them.
‘Let me get you that tea,’ Antonio said, ushering her into the kitchen—a sizeable room by normal standards, but thankfully smaller than the rooms she’d seen so far in the palace.
‘Thank you. That would be nice.’
‘What would you like to eat?’
She shook her head. ‘Thank you, but I’m not really hungry.’
He gave her a speaking look. ‘You’re pregnant. You need to eat.’
She didn’t reply but, a couple of minutes later, she found herself sitting at his kitchen table with a mug of tea made just how she liked it and a chicken salad sandwich.
‘I really didn’t expect you to—’ she began.
‘Eat,’ he cut in. ‘Then we’ll talk.’
It left her with no choice but to follow his instructions. And she had to admit that the sandwich and the mug of tea did make her feel better. He didn’t say a word until she’d finished, simply sipped his tea.
And then he looked at her. ‘OK. So, first off,’ he said gently, ‘how are you?’
‘I’m fine.’
‘Really fine? Because I know some women have a tough time in pregnancy.’
She shrugged. ‘I had a bit of morning sickness in the early weeks. Nothing out of the usual.’ She opened her handbag, took out a photograph and handed it to him. ‘I wanted to give you this.’
‘Thank you,’ he said politely.
‘It’s our baby. From the twenty-week scan, last month.’
‘Our baby,’ he echoed.
She still had absolutely no idea what he was thinking, what he was feeling. His voice and his face were completely expressionless as he looked at the photograph. On the surface he was all urbane charm, just as a prince should be. But was he shocked? Horrified? Secretly pleased? She didn’t have a clue. Who was the real man behind the royal facade?
‘So,’ he said. ‘I’ll ask you the difficult question first. Do you plan to keep the baby?’
‘It’s way too late for a termination.’ Not that she’d wanted that, in any case.
‘I didn’t mean that. Were you planning to give the baby up for adoption after the birth?’
‘No.’
‘So you’re keeping him. Or her.’
Not ‘it’. She was grateful that at least he hadn’t said that. ‘Yes.’
‘Then I have financial responsibilities towards you.’
‘That isn’t why I came. I can manage.’ It would be a struggle, but she was used to that. She’d muddle through, the way she always had, working whatever hours she could fit in around the baby and her mum.
‘Tia, this is a Valenti baby,’ he said. ‘There are expectations. If nothing else, this baby...’ He sucked in a breath. ‘The way things stand, this baby could be fourth in line to the throne.’
She looked at him in shock. ‘What? How?’
‘It’s been a bit complicated around here. Which is why I didn’t get in touch with you after... London.’
The night they’d spent together.
The night that clearly hadn’t meant anything to him.
The night that had resulted in their baby.
‘Uh-huh,’ she said, in an attempt to be as cool and calm and collected as he seemed, though inside she wanted to yell at him.
‘You left me that note and I fully intended to call you later that day, after your shift,’ Antonio said. ‘But, that morning, my mother called me to tell me about Gabriella—my father’s daughter from his first marriage, except none of us had any idea she even existed until quite recently. My mother needed to talk to me about it and help her decide how to deal with the situation. She wanted to talk to me because Luca already had enough on his plate, ruling the country and preparing to be King. I had to come straight back to Casavalle, because my family needed me.’
Tia could understand that. It was the same for her and for Nathan: they’d been there for their mother because she was their family and she needed them.
‘And I’m afraid my mind was so focused on the situation at home, I didn’t think to contact you. I’m sorry.’
Tia had been hurt when Antonio hadn’t been in touch after the charity gala, even though she knew she was being ridiculous about it: of course a prince wasn’t going to fall for a mere waitress. Of course he wanted nothing more from her than their night of passion. It had been a one-off thing. But now she was seeing things from a different perspective. Antonio was part of a much bigger picture.
‘At the moment we’re waiting for DNA results, but my mother, Luca and I all think it’s very probable that Gabriella is indeed the oldest child of our father, which means she’s entitled to accede to the throne and rule Casavalle. She has no children, which makes my brother Luca her heir and puts him second in line to the throne. Luca also has no children; although Princess Meribel, his former fiancée, is pregnant, the baby isn’t Luca’s. So that makes me Luca’s heir and third in line to the throne; and that means our baby is my heir and fourth in line to the throne.’ He shrugged. ‘Though if we’re wrong about the DNA test or Gabriella decides not to accede to the throne, then everything shifts up one place and our baby will be third in line.’
It hadn’t really hit home until that moment, but Tia realised right then that her baby was of royal blood.
A baby in line for a crown.
‘I...’ She tailed off, hardly able to take in the enormity of the situation.
‘As I said,’ Antonio continued quietly, ‘it’s been a little complicated around here. Luca’s wedding to Meribel has been planned for a very long time. But Meribel told Luca on the eve of their wedding that she was in love with someone else and was pregnant with his baby, so she couldn’t go through with marrying him. We agreed with her family that we’d say the wedding was cancelled due to irreconcilable differences, though the people of Aguilare
z—Meribel’s kingdom, on the other side of the mountains—assumed that meant Luca had practically jilted her at the altar, and they blamed him for the wedding not happening.
‘It was politically...’ He grimaced. ‘Let’s just say it was a bit sensitive. If we didn’t tell the truth, it could lead to a great deal of discord between our countries. Yet if we told the truth—that Meribel was the one to have the affair—then it would be putting the blame on her, and that would be dishonourable.’
Tia didn’t quite understand that. ‘How could it be dishonourable when she was the one who had the affair?’
‘It’s still dishonourable,’ Antonio insisted.
‘So whatever you did, you’d lose,’ Tia said slowly.
‘Something like that. Except then someone leaked the truth of the matter. Not from our side,’ he was quick to clarify. ‘Meribel is in hiding right now, and it feels as if the media has put Casavalle under a microscope, scrutinising every move any of us makes and spotting every potential scandal.’ He looked at her. ‘Someone in the palace will have noticed you, and they will have heard you ask to speak to Miles. They will definitely have noticed your bump. So people will be asking questions about you—who are you, and why did you want to speak to the palace secretary? Whose baby are you carrying? They’ll be watching for you to leave the palace.
‘And the paparazzi don’t play nice, Tia. They’ll strike up a conversation at the airport and you’ll think you’re simply chatting to another passenger to pass the time. They’ll ask all kinds of questions and pump you for information without you even knowing what they’re doing, and the next thing you know it’ll be all over the media. They’ll dig on the Internet and they’ll know everything about you before you get back to London—where you live, where you work, all about your mother’s health. They’ll follow you and they’ll doorstep you.’
‘Doorstep me?’ She didn’t understand.
‘They’ll wait outside your front door in a gaggle. The back door, too. There’s no escape from them. The second you open any door, the flashbulbs will go off and they’ll be yelling your name and asking you questions. If you’ve ever seen it happen in a film, I can assure you that it’s been romanticised. In real life, it’s much harsher. You have to push your way through the mob, and all the time there will be microphones shoved in your face and flashbulbs going off and people yelling.
‘If you say anything, it’ll be spun to suit their agenda. If you say nothing, then they’ll speculate, and they’ll do it with the nastiest implications—and you won’t be able to protest because they’ll claim they’re asking questions, not making a statement. Your life won’t be your own.’
That hadn’t occurred to her. She’d simply thought to let Antonio know that their night together had had consequences, then quietly go back to London. ‘I... Look, if there’s a way you can get me from the palace to the airport without them seeing me, then I promise not to talk to a single person until I’m back home with my mum.’
He shook his head. ‘It’s already too late for that. As I said, things have been complicated around here lately.’
And she’d just added another complication to his life. An illegitimate baby.
Her misery must’ve shown in her expression, because he took her hand. ‘Tia. I know neither of us planned this. But you have my support now and you definitely need my protection. I think we both need to get our heads round the situation, and the middle of a royal palace isn’t the best place to do that. I know somewhere quiet we can go for a few days that will give us a chance to think things through and talk about the future.’
‘But I wasn’t planning to stay here, not even for a night. I don’t have even a toothbrush with me, let alone any clean clothes,’ Tia protested. ‘And my mum’s expecting me back home tonight.’
‘Then call her. Tell her that you’re staying here for a little while.’ He paused. ‘Give me three days, Tia.’
‘Three days?’ Tia was horrified. ‘What if Mum needs me?’
‘Do you have a neighbour or a friend nearby who can keep an eye out for her?’ Antonio asked. ‘Or I can arrange for a nurse to come in and help her, if you prefer.’ He looked at her. ‘I apologise. Nathan didn’t tell me much about your mother’s condition, other than that she’d been poorly since you were small. And I was brought up not to ask personal questions. So I’m afraid I don’t know how ill she is.’
‘Mum has chronic fatigue syndrome,’ Tia said. ‘It used to be called ME—myalgic encephalomyelitis.’
When Antonio looked blank, she continued, ‘After Dad was killed in action, Mum went down with a virus, and we think that’s what triggered the CFS because she never really recovered. It’s a bit like having the flu, with joint pains and a headache you simply can’t shift, and absolute exhaustion—but it doesn’t go away after a couple of weeks, like the flu does. She has it all the time. So she needs to rest a lot.
‘It’s a variable condition; some days she’s fine and to look at her you’d never know she was ill, and other days she can barely get out of bed. And she’s not lazy or stupid. It’s not like when you’re feeling just a bit tired after a busy day—she gets absolutely exhausted and physically can’t do anything. If she has a day when she’s feeling really well and overdoes things, then she’ll really pay for it for a few days afterwards. She has to be careful.’
‘And you look after her?’
‘Yes, and I don’t begrudge a second of it. I love her. She’s my mum.’ Growing up, Tia had had days when she’d wished her life had been more like that of her friends, where she’d had time to do homework and hang out with her friends and meet boys, instead of struggling to keep up with her studies and worrying that her mum’s condition was getting worse, and never starting a relationship because she knew it couldn’t go anywhere. But she’d done her best to hide it from her mother, because she loved Grace and didn’t want her mother to feel as if she was a burden.
Grace had encouraged her to go out with her friends, but Tia didn’t like leaving her mum, except when she went to work and she was only just round the corner and could rush back if there was an emergency.
‘Tia,’ he said gently, ‘we’re going to need to talk about the best way to support your mother when you have a small baby to look after as well. Because you’re not going to be able to do everything.’
Oh, yes, she could. She always had. ‘It’ll be fine.’ She lifted her chin. ‘I’ll manage. We always do.’
* * *
Meaning that she’d struggle and drive herself into the ground.
Antonio was shocked by the sheer protectiveness he felt towards her. And it wasn’t just because she was his best friend’s little sister. There was something about Tia Phillips. She was brave and strong and independent, not looking for the easy way out—she’d been very explicit that she expected nothing from him. He admired her courage; yet, at the same time, he wanted to take some of those burdens away. What she’d just told him, in addition to the little that Nathan had let slip, made him realise that she must’ve spent most of her life looking after her mother. She’d never really had a normal childhood.
Well, she didn’t have to struggle any more. He could support her. Though he was pretty sure that her pride would get in the way and she’d refuse any help. So he needed to gain her trust, first. And that meant being specific rather than vague.
‘Come with me to my house in the mountains for three days,’ he said. ‘Let’s give ourselves a bit of time to adjust to the situation, and then we can talk about the baby.’
She looked torn. ‘It depends on how Mum is.’
‘Call her,’ he said. ‘Talk to her. See what she thinks. I’ll give you some space. I’ll be in the sitting room when you’re ready.’
‘Thank you,’ she said.
He left her to it, and went into his sitting room. Babies. This was the third baby shock in a row for the palace: first Gabriella’s mot
her being pregnant and never telling her ex-husband, King Vincenzo, about the baby and running away without telling him; then Princess Meribel’s affair ending in her being pregnant by another man; and now Tia expecting a baby after their one night together.
The media would have a field day. And, although he had the resources to ride out the storm, Tia was vulnerable.
There was only one solution to this.
But he didn’t think it was going to be an easy solution. He was going to have to tread very carefully indeed.
* * *
Grace Phillips answered on the third ring.
‘How are you, Mum?’ Tia asked.
‘I’m fine,’ Grace said, a little too quickly for Tia’s liking. ‘Did you get to see Prince Antonio?’
‘I did.’ She sighed. ‘Mum, he wants me to stay for a few days—three days, he said. He wants to talk things over.’
‘That’s a good idea,’ Grace said.
‘But I don’t want to leave you on your own.’
‘I’m fine, love. Really. Becky’s next door if I need anything.’
‘But that was just for today. I can’t ask her to keep an eye out for you for three whole days.’
‘You don’t have to. I’ll ask her,’ Grace said. ‘And I’m not overdoing things, before you start worrying. I can manage.’
Tia wasn’t so sure. ‘But what if you have a bad day tomorrow?’
‘Then Becky will help,’ Grace said. ‘You need to talk to Prince Antonio, for the baby’s sake. And for yours.’
‘Mum, I...’
‘I know he’s from a different world,’ Grace said gently, ‘but Nathan always said he was a good man. Listen to what he has to say.’
