The Princess Problem, page 17
She looked up, her violet eyes wide and beseeching. “I don’t know what I could do, though. Maybe volunteer an hour of babysitting once a week so that they can go to therapy?”
Elias bit back a laugh. Her heart might act like a princess’s, but her head still needed training. “Perhaps that’d be a bit too hands-on. It could spiral out of control quite quickly. And you wouldn’t be able to help very many. You could hold a fund-raiser.”
“Tiaras and long-winded toasts?” Her nose wrinkled. “I’d like to be more hands-on than that.”
His hands slid down to stroke up and down the thin cotton sweater covering her upper arms. “What about a visit to a mental-health clinic specializing in post-partum?”
“Shaking hands? Smiling? What actual good will that do?”
And they were back to the same argument. Him trying to impress upon Kelsey how very important she was to the country. Although it seemed impossible, it had only been nine days, not enough time to absorb even a tenth of her role and what it meant.
Nine days also shouldn’t have been enough time for him to grow to care so damned much about her…
“It will give tremendous hope. Pride. Your visit would be the equivalent of a course of penicillin. I know you don’t believe it yet, but I think you will once you do your first walkabout, and see the enormous reaction that ensues.”
Her brow smoothed out. Determination squared her shoulders. “Okay, but not on September fourteenth. That’d be too sad. At least this year.”
“Why not that date?”
“Because that’s my birthday. The day she killed herself.”
“Ah no.” Fuck. “The queen took her life on your—Princess Valentina’s—birthday. August seventh.”
Kelsey stared at him, then she grabbed his glass off the mantel and tossed it back like a shot. Kicking off her shoes, she took a fast circle of the perimeter of the room. She stopped behind a pair of maroon leather-wing chairs.
“My birthday isn’t even right? Are you freaking kidding me, Elias?”
What the hell was she getting schooled in all day, every day? How had nobody gone over the basics of her original life with her yet?
He crossed the room in three long strides. Then Elias drew her around the chair, sat, and pulled her onto his lap. “Look, that isn’t bad news. There’s an obvious silver lining. Now you get two birthdays.”
It was the weakest of attempts to comfort her. Kelsey wasn’t a child, to be distracted with the promise of twice as much cake and presents. But if there was a guidebook that told the right way to handle this constant barrage of strange upheavals that was her reality now, then nobody had damn well shared it with him.
“But I don’t know which one is real. Which me is real?”
Elias didn’t have the answer, and he wasn’t sure what to hope that she’d discover. Because whether she returned to America or stayed at the palace, Kelsey wouldn’t be allowed to stay with him.
Chapter Thirteen
“If you planned to traipse us across the entire palace grounds, why didn’t we start earlier, before it got so darned hot?” Mallory lifted her hair off her neck to pull it through the strap of her stars-and-stripes baseball cap. She always wore it in the run up to the Fourth of July. Kelsey just hoped nobody here in Moncriano got offended by the in-your-face America-ness of it.
“The royal family attends Mass every Sunday,” Elias said. “I went with them.”
Aha. That explained why her official schedule had been so surprisingly empty. It had been nice to lay in bed doing nothing after so many jam-packed days in a row. Kelsey bumped shoulders with her sister. “No complaining. Even in a palace, God trumps everyone.”
“We’re not Catholic,” Mallory reminded her. The snippy tone was probably due to how poorly she dealt with heat. That auburn hair and pale skin made her particularly susceptible…and bitchy. “We don’t have to jump to attention every Sunday.”
And, boom! There was another reminder of things that were beyond her scope of knowledge. “Hang on. Am I Catholic? Christened in the church and all that?”
Elias nodded without breaking his stride as they tromped over thicker grass far beyond the manicured gardens she knew.
“So if I stay, I’ll have to learn my catechism and get confirmed?” Oh geez. What if they did mass in Latin? She’d have to learn two more languages? This country was piling up reasons for her to take the easy way out and bolt back to New York. Yes, it was surface stuff and not an actual reason to turn her back on her legacy, her duty. But sometimes that all got too heavy to contemplate, so Kelsey focused on the small differences. It helped her cope. She knew, however, it in no way could help influence her actual decision.
“Unlike England, in Moncriano the monarch is not the head of the church. In terms of battles to fight to keep your sense of self, you have a good chance of not being hassled if you choose to remain…what, exactly?”
Oh, it was delicious to catch Elias out. Kelsey did a skip-hop combo to get in front of him. All the better to wag a finger in his face. “Ha! Something your background snooping didn’t turn up. I’m shocked. So disappointed in your slacker-hood.”
“The Royal Protection Service doesn’t snoop. We investigate.” He was as haughty and proper as…her grandmother. Until Elias winked at her.
Warmth poured through her body at that naughty wink and the smile that accompanied it. Watching the real Elias leak past the buttoned-up layers of pomp and formality was so much fun. Kelsey almost reached for his hand, but stopped herself just in time.
The gardens looked deserted—did the entire capital city go to mass?—but the outer grounds of the palace were open to public tours. They had to be careful. Or so Elias kept insisting. Repeatedly. That if anyone found out, he’d lose his job. And his honor. Because he was a commoner and she was royalty.
Kelsey didn’t believe it. What was the good of having the title of princess if it couldn’t be used to protect her…what…boyfriend? If she could call him that. Considering she might be moving back to Manhattan in a week, that seemed presumptuous.
She’d never ask Elias to give up his life here in Moncriano. No matter how much she respected him…enjoyed him…adored being with him…craved more time naked with him…
Nothing cranked down the lid on the urge to touch him like thinking about religion. “We’re Presbyterian, I guess? We mostly went on Christmas and Easter.”
“Any excuse for carols and ham,” Mallory said.
“Perhaps you’d be willing to undertake a basic education in the rituals, so that when required to attend church as a family you wouldn’t feel confused.”
Turning in a slow circle to take in the unfamiliar mountains, the glint of the ocean in the opposite direction, and of course, the palace, Kelsey said, “This shouldn’t be breaking news, but I’m existing in a perpetual state of confusion.”
“Stop that. You’re doing great,” Mallory said stoutly. “You’re not a spy cramming for a black op. These things take time. Citizens spend eighteen years learning history and culture and tradition as they grow up. They’re trying to stuff it all into you in a matter of weeks. Don’t put yourself down.”
Kelsey blew her a kiss. Her sister never failed to boost her confidence levels. Something that burbled way below average in her bloodstream. “Habit, I guess.”
“A crappy habit, one you need to break. Royalty should be extremely self-assured.”
“Like you know.”
“Uh, you know how much I love old movies. Lots of them revolve around royalty.”
Wouldn’t it be nice if she could just binge watch some black-and-white movies with snappy dialogue and great hats and be all caught up? “I watch all those medical dramas. You don’t see me posing as a doctor, do you?”
“Not yet. Who knows what next secret about your new life will be unveiled?” Mallory wriggled her fingers and lifted her arms as though lifting a sheet.
They both giggled. It was such a relief to not be tamping down any of their humor in public. Maybe a totally deserted park wasn’t very public, but Kelsey was already sick of minding her Ps and Qs all the time. Not in a rebellious, teenage way. Just in a not wanting to be fake way. Serene and stoic did not come naturally to her.
So far, being royal felt a lot like being on a nonstop job interview.
She was positive it wasn’t just her relatives doing the judging. Everyone from the footmen to the other security teams to yes, Renate at the salon, who all saw this near-clone of Genevieve walking around with unfettered access to the royal family. They had to have guessed who she was already, and been sworn to secrecy. Either way, the only people she could relax, be herself around, were Mallory, Elias, Sir Evan, and her chambermaid, Anya.
Living a lie didn’t sound appealing. Giving up who she was on the outside was one thing. Her job, her country, her preferred daily uniform of yoga pants—Kelsey could live without those, if necessary. But giving up who she was on the inside was an entirely different matter. It was as if she was a doll, having her stuffing replaced.
Was there a way to embrace being a princess while remaining her ordinary self? Because she truly wanted to give Moncriano a fair shot. Being a part of the House of Villani was a centuries-old legacy. It’d be immature to turn her back on it just for not being what she’d planned. Yet it felt very mature to realize that she could not truly become a Villani if it meant giving up everything that made her Kelsey Wishner…
“Look, there.” Elias pointed past the edge of the lake to a copse of leafed-out trees. In their shade sat what looked similar to a Grecian temple. Four marble columns, holding up a pitched roof. Centered under its peak was the image of a crown over the name Serena.
Mallory stopped and grabbed Kelsey’s arm. “Is that her tomb?”
“Yes.”
Whoa. Talk about a bait and switch. Kelsey took in the enlarged black silhouette in relief on pale-blue marble. Its shape was almost identical to her own face. A pair of silver plaques bracketed it, covered in writing she wasn’t close enough to read. Curiosity carried her forward even as she shot Elias a stone-cold glare.
“You said you wanted to show me something meaningful on the palace grounds.”
Elias put his hands in his pockets, bunching up his jacket, the one she knew he only wore in this heat to cover his gun. To protect her at all times. “It is meaningful, to me. I’ve been here many times with Christian over the years.”
“But I’m wearing shorts.” Kelsey didn’t think she should be in all black and a hat with a veil. But something more respectful than frayed denim shorts and a concert tee from Elton John’s last tour would be appropriate for her first visit to her mother’s grave. The closest she’d come to meeting the woman who gave her life.
This morning had taken a hard left to the surreal.
The inner corners of his dark-brown eyebrows pulled together in obvious concern. “I could tell that you were all in your head about her suicide. You didn’t relax at all during the portrait session last night.”
Not relaxed? That was like calling a volcano a warm mud bath. “I was posing for a family portrait with people I barely know with a heavy tiara shellacked to the top of my head. The grand duchess stared at me, Genevieve wouldn’t look at me, and yeah, I was processing everything. It takes a few hours, for goodness’ sake.”
“You’re saying you’re better now? Calmer?”
“I was,” she said pointedly.
His usual nod bent deeper, into a half bow. “My apologies. I’d hoped bringing you here, unannounced, would be akin to removing a bandage without warning. Less painful. Less worrisome.”
“And you made sure Mallory came along in case I got emotional.” Kelsey had been caught off guard, sure. But the thoughtfulness behind his decision to blindside her with this field trip was inarguable. Better than a dozen roses, or dinner at an expensive restaurant. Elias got nothing out of this. He’d done it strictly for her.
With practiced polish, he side-stepped the actual answer as they approached the base of the pavilion. “I’m aware you two haven’t gotten to spend as much time together as you’d like.”
Kelsey sat on the wooden bench beneath the silhouette. Wondered how to connect to a dead woman. How to not feel as though she were cheating on the woman who raised her. Ponder how to say hello to someone who wasn’t even a memory, and yet had loved her so very much. “This is a beautiful spot.”
Elias stood at the front of the farthest column, eyes scanning the grounds they’d just covered. His on-duty intensity showed in the taut set of his jaw. The way his hands hung loose, ready to fist or grab for his gun, while his feet were just wide enough to brace himself. Too bad he couldn’t join them on the bench.
“It is open to the public, so that all may mourn and remember their Queen. Many do, to this day. But I’ve taken the liberty of closing the gates for the next hour, so that you may have privacy.”
“Thank you. This would be a hundred times more difficult if there were a crowd of strangers.” If the urge to cry did take root? The fewer people to witness her inevitable red nose, the better.
Mallory plopped down next to her. “What do you want to say?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know anything about the queen. Sitting here makes me wish I did. I wish that we could share stories. I wish I knew what made her so special that people still come visit her grave more than twenty years later. I wish I knew…anything,” she repeated lamely.
“Perhaps I can help.” Prince Christian appeared from the grove of trees. A very different version of Christian than she’d seen before, in jeans and a white polo shirt. Next to him was Genevieve. She was also dressed way down in a simple, pink eyelet sundress. The down-turned corners of her mouth, however, were something Kelsey was already very used to seeing.
Mallory shot to her feet. Then she bent her knees into a curtsey. Which looked ridiculous in her sleeveless khaki dress made of T-shirt fabric. “Your Highness. Your Highness. Good morning.”
“Miss Wishner.” Christian inclined his head in a completely different way than Elias did.
There was no subservience implied, no “I’m at your disposal.” It was more of an acknowledgment that, yes, he accepted her greeting, as was his due.
Kelsey didn’t believe that Christian meant any slight by it. Even after a little over a week, she’d come to realize that was simply the way things were here. Probably everywhere that had a monarchy rather than an “all things are created equal” democracy.
Crap.
She should probably scrape together two ounces of courtesy and greet her siblings. Not because protocol demanded it, but because she’d been raised to be friendly. Midwestern nice. Even when one of those siblings was staring at her with a level of disdain generally reserved for six-month-old food covered in mold in the very back of the fridge.
“Good morning, Christian. Genevieve.” Kelsey didn’t get up, though. She’d learned enough to know it wasn’t required…until Christian ascended to the throne, anyway. “Do you come out here every Sunday after Mass?”
“Our schedule’s not that fluid, I’m afraid. And we don’t want to cause a disruption for tourists and citizens who want to visit.” He craned his head back to look at the silhouette of their mother. “I can’t remember the last time I was here. Genny?”
“I came on my birthday.” Her words snapped out. Then she wrapped an arm around the ridged column and leaned against it. Everything softened. The curve of her shoulders, her pinched lips, and most of all, her tone. “I do every year. That’s when I miss her the most. It just…seems like a day everyone deserves to be with their mother.”
That was such a normal, human reaction, one that tugged at Kelsey’s heartstrings, and made her ache for the little girl Genevieve had been. Growing up motherless, coming out to a peaceful but very sad place instead of getting birthday donuts in bed.
For all the loss Kelsey was still struggling to process when it came to Queen Serena, she’d had a mother. One who tucked her in every night with kisses. Who scared away the monsters under the bed with a truly horrible tap dance routine. One who listened when Kelsey complained about Mallory getting to do everything first, and told her it was okay to be sad as long as she didn’t take away from any of Mallory’s joy at wearing makeup or driving or graduating.
All of that added up to her being far, far luckier than the prince and princess standing in front of her.
“Your Highness, would you like me to leave?” Mallory directed the soft question to Christian.
Crap. She’d forgotten all about poor Mallory still standing there, super awkwardly, while consumed with pity for Genevieve. This having two sisters thing would take some practice. Kelsey almost told her to stay. That urge was automatic. The need to have her nearby was strong, too.
But she wanted to hear Christian’s response. To see if he’d dismiss her (oh, just let him try!) or ask her to stay. To see if he accepted Mallory as family—like it or not—in a way that Genevieve clearly did not, as of yet.
“Pardon me, Miss Wishner. I didn’t mean to leave you standing.” He took her by the elbow and led her the half freaking step back to the bench. “Please, do be seated.”
Was that—omigod—a blush coloring her sister’s cheeks? Just because Christian touched her? The skin of a redhead always revealed the naughty thoughts roiling around in her brain. There’d have to be questions about this later.
Mallory shook her head. “Oh, I couldn’t. There’s only room for two on this bench. You or the princess should sit.”
This uber-polite dance between the two of them verged on laughable. In fact, Kelsey caught Elias’s eye and saw his lips twitch as she wriggled her eyebrows and tilted her head ever so slightly toward Christian and Mallory. And it felt so…natural to share that unspoken communication with him. Like they were in sync.
