A Royal Surprise
The Messalinian Royals
Nichole Blithe
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Coming Soon
By Nichole Blithe. All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher/author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction, any similarities to real-world people or situations are purely coincidental.
Cover by DesignRans
Edits by Rachel Walter
Formatting A.M. Williams
Created with Vellum
For my Nana. Your love of books introduced me to my love of books. I hope that this story would have been one you couldn’t put down. I wish you were here to see this and tell me that you were proud of me because no matter what, I did it.
Prologue
Could she be here because she changed her mind? No, it’s too late. You can’t turn down a proposal and show up weeks later. Life moves on, the world goes on. The only thing to do is be polite but distanced. I can’t allow this woman to play with my emotions anymore. No matter how much I love her.
I open the door stepping into my office. Emily sits on the sofa. The dark circles under her eyes and slumped shoulders evidence of her exhaustion. Dark hair spills out from the bun on her head, her messy t-shirt and jeans hang loosely on her body, she looks so much thinner. Still she’s absolutely the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
Clearing my throat, I step into the room. “This is unexpected. Why are you here, Emily?”
She startles from my voice her gaze searching over me. Neither of us speak holding each other’s gaze until she clamps a hand over mouth and jumps from her seat frantically looking around the room. Running across to my desk she grabs a small trash can near the large wooden desk. Hugging the trash can to her body, she empties her stomach.
“Emily!” I lurch forward, stumbling across the room, and then kneel beside her. “Are you all right? Can I get you anything?” I reach out to lay a hand on her shoulder.
She rolls her shoulder knocking my hand off. Tears streaming down her cheeks as she struggles to catch her breath.
It’s surprising how much it hurts that she rejects my touch, but it’s also sobering. Our time is over and needs to be left behind us.
I pull a handkerchief from my pocket pressing it into her hands. “I’m sorry. I know this must be difficult for you. It is for me as well. I—”
“I’m pregnant.” Emily manages through her sobs.
I slump to the floor next to her. I’m going to be a father?
She looks up at me with swollen eyes. “I thought… I don’t know what I thought.”
A baby. We’re going to have a baby. Will it be a boy or girl? When is she due? Has she thought about names any? There are some wonderful name choices in the royal family. I can show her the nursery I grew up in. My heart swells when our eyes meet. The woman I love is carrying my child.
I stop myself from touching her again pulling my hand back but wanting to desperately. She isn’t mine anymore. We should be married right now. This would be a joyous occasion to be celebrated. Instead that joy battles with the frustration inside of me. She knew what would happen when she said no.
“I just got married. I should be starting a family with my wife. It should be you. It was supposed to be you.” I rub my face and look back at Emily. Her tears fall harder again. “I’m sorry. I know you didn’t mean for this to happen this way.”
She sucks in a small breath focusing on the handkerchief she is holding in her lap. “I’m sorry I said no, Lex.”
“Will you reconsider moving here?”
I watch her dry her tears and sigh, a big heaving sigh that moves her shoulders. She sits quietly as the minutes pass. Her hesitation gives me hope. We can learn to work through this. Be some sort of family, somehow.
“We’ve talked about this, I can’t. I have my life back home. And how would it look having me here? I would look like your mistress.”
“I can’t move to America.”
“I know.” She closes her eyes and sighs. “Would you hate me if I said I considered not even telling you?”
“I could never hate you, and truly, I understand. This is difficult. I’m glad you told me. I want to be in my child’s life.” They will need to be protected. There are many things to consider.
“You can’t take the baby from me.” Her eyes wide she stares up at me, a hand protectively rests on her belly.
“I would never. We’ll come up with a plan. Everything with be okay. I promise.” I lay my hand on her shoulder and this time she allows me. “We will do what is best for the child, whatever it takes.”
Emily nods. “Okay, how do we do this?”
Chapter One
Twenty-One years and some months later…
No one ever knocks on my door, unless it’s a pizza delivery person or Seneca when she forgets her keys, which is fairly often. Living with my scatterbrained best friend keeps it interesting for sure. Maybe if I ignore the pounding, they will go away. Of course, that is too much to hope; the persistent knocking continues.
“Fine. I’m coming. Just stop with the knocking already.” I put down my bowl of popcorn and pause my movie. Pushing up from the couch, I make my way across the apartment, shuffling in my slippers and stuffing a few more pieces of buttery goodness in my mouth.
They must have heard my yelling because thankfully the offensive noise stops. When I open the door an older, rigid man in a suit is not what I was expecting. He’s too polished to be anyone from the university, his deep gray suit is more than a tweed wearing professor could ever afford. Even his tie looks expensive, probably real silk.
“Miss Adellaide Bowes?” He has a faint accent I can’t place. Eyes peak out from beneath bushy eyebrows taking in my pajama pants, and he frowns.
I have nowhere to be today. The semesters been over for weeks, and I have a whole summer of nothing ahead of me. I don’t have to answer to some stuffy guy in a suit banging down my door on a Friday night for my attire in my own home.
“Yes. That’s me.”
“Excellent.” He gives a slight bow with his head, which surprises me. I’ve never been bowed to. The formality is shocking after the whole yelling through the door incident and now I’m a little embarrassed to be in my jammies. I wipe my greasy popcorn hands on my pants and stand a little straighter. “My name is Wendell Cranly, I represent your father, Alexander Dunsany.”
I can’t stop the snort before it leaves me. I receive decent sized payments every month from my father’s estate. Between my school and living costs I still have plenty to put into savings. This guy must be after money.
“My father’s last name was Michaels. He passed away when my mother was pregnant. Please leave me alone.”
I swing the door shut, but he stops it with his hand. My heart pounds in my chest. Seneca isn’t home right now, and I have no idea how late she’ll be out. I left my cell phone on the couch when I got up to answer the door. Trying to ignore the thumping in my chest, I look around for something I could use to protect myself if I need it. How much damage could that umbrella do?
He removes his hand and clears his throat. “I’m sorry to upset you, but that just isn’t so. Your father is very much alive and wishes to see you.”
“I’m almost twenty-one years old. Why would he wait so long?” I cross my arms, waiting for an answer. I don’t believe him, but he sure is going to a lot of trouble for this so I’m curious.
“I’m sorry ma’am. I’m not at liberty to say. There are some important legal matters that are time sensitive and need your attention.”
“What kind of legal matters?”
“Again, ma’am I’m not at liberty to say. I’m here to ensure you receive these.” He holds out a thick manila envelope. “I urge you to speak with him. These are flight details and other documents if you decide to make the trip. I won’t take up anymore of your time. I truly hope we meet again soon.” He holds the envelope a little higher and after a couple of seconds, I take it. Before I can ask more questions, he bows once more and turns away, taking long strides down the hallway.
Thoroughly muddled I stand in my open doorway long after he’s gone. Mrs. Planter a few doors down opens her door to put out her recycle bin. She squints at me. I wonder if she heard any of that? She is our resident nosey neighbor, always poking herself in other people’s business. I give her a tight-lipped smile before shutting my door.
The envelope hits my leg reminding me of its existence. This is by far the strangest thing to ever happen to me. I take the envelope to the dining table and sit down., placing it on the table in front of me. I stare at my name scrawled across the outside. I could throw it away and pretend like this never happened. It can’t possibly be anything but a hoax. Some cruel attempt to get something out of the girl with no father. People pray on situations like mine. My heart is racing almost as quickly as my mind. Dumping the contents out and looking through the various papers I find two flights to Europe, boat tickets, but most importantly a letter. Hand written in graceful swirling print on thick, cream paper.
Adellaide,
I know this is strange and unexpected. I never imagined I would contact you this way. It’s crucial I speak with you. I wish I could come to you, but at this time it just isn’t possible. Please consider coming to meet me. We have much to discuss. I so look forward to meeting you.
Your loving father,
Alexander
The antsy feeling I’ve been fighting crawls all over my body just under the surface of my skin and I shiver. What on earth is going on? Could my father really be alive?
I read the letter again and again, alternating between looking over everything in the envelope and pacing the apartment. I try calling Seneca to see when she will be home, but it goes straight to voicemail. A few seconds later, a text comes through on my phone.
Sen: I’m staying at Marcus’ tonight. Talk tomorrow??? ; ) ; ) <3 <3
It’s too late to call my mom, she’s always in bed by nine and that came and went a long time ago. A hot bath and reading always relaxes me. I run the bath and grab my newest book before settling into the mountain of bubbles. Unfortunately, by the time the water is cold I'm still staring at the first page having not read a word and feeling more tense than when I started.
After the most restless night’s sleep of my life, I give up. I'm out of bed before the sun. Even with taking my time dressing and picking at some grapes, I arrive at my mother's house at seven in the morning. I know she’ll be awake even though it’s Saturday, twenty years of teaching at the University of Pennsylvania has made her predictable. With my key, I let myself in and find her sitting at the kitchen table. A steaming mug beside her and a red pen in her hand. She flips another page scribbling across the paper and set it aside grabbing the next from the pile.
I take a deep breath, preparing myself. True or not, this conversation is going to be stressful Not that any conversation has ever been easy with her.
“Mom, we need to talk.”
Her shoulders jerk and the pen falls from her hand and rolls across the table. She clutches her chest. “Adella, you startled me. Did we have plans to meet today?” She glances to the clock. “It’s early, everything okay?”
The past twelve hours have been agonizing. I can't wait another second. Plus, I will probably hear the most honest answer if I catch her off guard.
“Is my father alive?”
Her pale face and silence are all the answers I need. She swallows a few times, but still says nothing. Just when I thought this couldn't get any weirder. It turns out to be true. I rub my face, trying to reign in my emotions to no avail.
“He’s alive.” My breath huffs out. Unbelievable. “What is wrong with you? Why would you tell me my father died?”
Her head snaps up, eyes wide. I never raise my voice to her, I’m just as surprised as she is. “Just a minute, young lady!” She stands up so fast the chair falls back, smacking hard against the ground. “I’m your mother. Don’t speak to me that way.”
“Right now, you’re just the lady who lied to me, so don’t try to reprimand me. I’ve done nothing wrong! You lied about my father. I’ve never met him. Have no relationship with him. I spent twenty years believing he was dead! How many times did you let me cry over the loss of my father? The father-daughter dance I couldn’t go to. Him not being here to see me graduate high school or be accepted to college. What about the million other things a father would normally be part of. You stole that from me.”
I had my whole life to accept I didn’t have a father. It still hurt when I would see Seneca with her dad and so happy, but I got used to it. I knew I couldn’t change it.
Finding out I did all this time, that my life could have been different, I’m being ripped into a million directions. Why didn’t she tell me? Why didn’t he want me? I sit down gasping for breath, hoping the spinning room with right itself and the queasiness will go away.
“How do you even know about him, Adella?” Stern face in place, this is somehow about how I wrong her. So typical.
I take a couple of deep breaths as she continues to stare. “I’ve been contacted by his lawyer or whatever the guy is.”
“Here? Someone came here to talk to you? What did they say? What do they want?”
“A man came to my apartment. It freaked me out a little, but the guy was super polite and left without a fuss. Why are you acting so weird about this?” If anyone has a reason to be upset, it’s me.
“They shouldn’t be contacting you, not yet. That was the agreement.” Flustered, my mother bumps into the table, knocking over her mug. The creamy coffee spills across the table and drips to the floor.
“What agreement? Why didn’t you tell me about him?” Our relationship has always been strained at best, but I never thought she would keep something like this from me. Yet here we are. Do I know my mother at all?
“Adella, focus. What did they want?” I am focused. On what’s important: her lies. I know I won’t get answers to my questions without answering hers first. Even then I might not get much, there’s always the chance she could shut down on me.
“I have no idea. He didn’t say. Only that my father needed to talk to me and it was important. He gave me tickets to fly to Europe. Will you come with me?”
“Oh, no.” She shakes her head, retreating to sink. “No. I can’t.” She walks back with a towel and wipes up the coffee spill.
“What do you mean you can’t? You never go anywhere, just sit in this house.” I stand up, gesturing around the house she has lived in my entire life, only a few blocks from the University. Except for a few rare teachers’ conventions, she hasn’t gone anywhere since before I was born. “I’m sure you have tons of vacation days.”
“I promised myself I would never go back there. I didn’t want that life. I’m sorry, I can’t.” She sits back down feigning calm and picks up her red pen, looking back to the papers she had been grading. Her dismissal of the whole situation hurts more than if she slapped me.
“What life? To have a family? The idea was really so horrible to you?” She alway
s said it broke her heart when my father died, and she could never love anyone else. I always thought that heartbreak made her incapable of letting anyone close, even me. Now I know that wasn’t the truth.
“You could never understand,” she continues to stare down at the papers in front of her, pen still poised between her fingers.
“How do you know? Maybe I could if you would just tell me. I found out your big secret and here you are still keeping things from me.” My head is pounding. So is my heart. The pulse beats throughout my body, thumping loudly against her silence. Nothing could have prepared me for this. “This is one of the biggest things to ever happen to me and you aren’t going to be there for me? I can’t understand why you’re acting this way. How can you be so selfish?”
“I am not selfish,” she loses a little of her calm façade on each word, her eyes meet mine and I lean back. I’ve never seen her act this way. “I can’t see him again.” Her voice is closer to a whisper. She deflates in the chair.
I stand grabbing my purse and keys of the table. There’s no point in sticking around if she doesn’t want to talk. I can’t handle the emotional whiplash this conversation is giving me.
“Adella.” I stop in the foyer, hand on the doorknob, and turn to her. “Don’t get blinded by his charm. I don’t want you to end up hurt like I did.”
“If you didn’t want me hurt, you shouldn’t have lied to me my entire life.”
Later with one arm full of bags and a pizza tucked under the other, I kick the door repeatedly. Seneca opens the door; her amber eyes widen at the large amount of food I’m holding. “How do you feel about a free trip to Europe?”
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