A Royal Marriage of Convenience Read online

  This was definitely not cattle class.

  But Rose had moved on, shrugging off her discomfort with her coat. She placed the little dog on the seat beside him. Griswold—who’d spoken hardly at all since Nick had come aboard—took her coat and smiled down at Hoppy.

  ‘Le chien a faim? Peut-être il voudrait un petit morceau de biftek?’

  ‘Hoppy would very much like a biftek,’ Rose said, and beamed at the man. ‘Moi aussi. Oui. Merci beaucoup.’

  ‘Et pour la madame, du champagne?’

  ‘Ooh, yes. Oui. Merci, merci, merci.’ She lifted her dog back into her arms, sank down into the seat beside Nick and giggled. ‘Isn’t this fabulous?’

  The dog only had three legs. Hoppy. Yep, he had it. He was right on the ball today. If only she didn’t smile so much.

  ‘Do you suppose there’d be caviar if I asked for it?’ she said, and he decided to stop the fatuousness and try and be serious.

  ‘I thought the plan was to stop extravagant spending by the royal family.’

  ‘Oh,’ she said, and her face fell. ‘Does that have to start today? I thought maybe we could have a little bit of fun first.’ Her laughter disappeared as if he’d reprimanded her. She sank back into the sumptuous upholstery, clipped her seat belt and hugged her dog.

  He felt bad. He hadn’t meant to stop her smiling.

  She stayed looking defensive. He went on feeling bad. And more.

  More? Yes, more. Because suddenly he was hit with this really dumb urge to kiss her better.

  Or just to kiss her.

  Which was really dumb, he told himself, startled by the intensity of his urge as well as the unexpectedness of it. That would be really stupid.

  As was her reaction, he thought, struggling for an even keel. She was acting like he’d slapped her. He was starting to feel like he was always apologising to this woman. She made him feel he was permanently on the back foot.

  But if he was going to apologise he might as well get it over with.

  ‘Maybe I was out of order,’ he conceded. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘There’s a concession,’ she said. ‘But of course you’re right. This is a serious business. A marriage of convenience. There’s not a lot to smile about in that.’

  They didn’t speak again as the plane took off. The two settees-cum-airline-seats were forward facing, set in a V, so up to four occupants could talk together. There was a silk-hung divider in front which hid the service compartment and the entrance to the cockpit, but they were essentially alone.

  They were sitting side by side, and he felt…weird. She was very close.

  But not for long. The plane rose smoothly and the seat-belt sign clicked off. The moment it did Rose gathered Hoppy, unclipped her seat belt and moved herself sharply across the aisle to the other double seat. To the furthest side of the far seat.

  It was like she’d slapped him. Even Hoppy was looking balefully across at him, like he’d offended the dog too.

  ‘I have offended you,’ he said, frowning, and she shook her head.

  ‘No. I just decided you’re right. It’s formal, the stuff we’ll be doing, so I may as well start being formal now.’

  ‘You could have caviar if you want. If it’s aboard.’

  ‘I don’t really want it.’

  ‘But you asked…’

  ‘I just thought maybe it’d be fun to play the princess a little,’ she said, and then looked ruefully down at her faded jeans and her three-legged dog. ‘But I’m not princess material. I never have been.’

  ‘Cinderella before the godmother?’

  ‘Yeah, well, the godmother’s the money thing,’ she said. ‘Bane of my life.’ Griswold came through, bearing a tray carrying one crystal flute, the champagne bubbling deliciously. She looked at the champagne with regret.

  ‘Do you think I should ask for it to be put back in the bottle?’

  ‘I don’t think it can be,’ he said weakly. Hell, how to make a man feel bad…

  ‘You mean I just have to drink it?’ She cheered up. ‘To save its life? Hooray.’ Griswold smiled as she buried her nose in bubbles. ‘Are you having one?’

  ‘I’ll have a glass of wine with my meal.’

  She raised her eyebrows. ‘And more than one never touches your lips?’

  ‘I believe it’d be good if at least one of us kept our wits about us.’ Um… He hadn’t meant to say that. It was just that she made him feel old. No. Defensive, he decided, but he didn’t know why.

  And she seemed to agree with him.

  ‘Of course,’ she said, and raised her glass in his direction. ‘How very wise. You stay on watch. You keep all your wits while I stick my nose into champagne.’

  Why had he said that?

  He sounded about a hundred. Talk about a killjoy…

  He thought of what Erhard had told him about this woman. She’d had it tough for the past few years. No wonder she’d been talked into accepting her heritage. No wonder she wanted to escape to a little fantasy.

  He glanced across to the other seat. In between sipping champagne she was hugging her little dog to her like a shield. She looked about ten years old.

  ‘I’m really sorry I was mean,’ he said, and she flashed him a suspicious look.

  ‘Lawyers don’t apologise. If you acknowledge fault, then I get to sue.’

  So maybe she wasn’t ten years old.

  ‘Tell me about your dog.’

  ‘He’s Hoppy.’

  ‘We’ve done that. I was hoping for a little more information.’

  She looked at him suspiciously over the rim of her champagne glass.

  ‘Hoppy’s two years old,’ she said at last. ‘He got squashed by a tractor when he was five weeks old. I was helping deliver a foal, and the farmer was driving his tractor through the yard. Mud everywhere. This little one darted out to meet me, and went straight under the tractor wheel. When the tractor moved on we couldn’t see a sign of him. Then thirty seconds later I found him buried completely in mud. One leg was broken so badly it had to come off, but otherwise he was perfect. He even wiggled his tail when I patted him, smashed leg and all.’

  ‘So you bought him?’

  ‘I was given him. The farmer’s reaction to the accident was that it was a shame he hadn’t been killed outright. Hoppy’s so small he’s useless for ratting. That’s why he’d been bred. So I have my semi-useless, non-ratting Hoppy, and I love him to bits.’

  ‘And you can take him into Alp de Montez?’

  ‘Sure I can,’ she said defensively. ‘I’m a princess. Hoppy’s out for adventure, and so am I.’

  He stared at her for a moment while she finished the last of the champagne. And then stared regretfully into the empty glass. In a flash Griswold was out from behind his screen with a refill. The elderly man was now smiling, Nick saw. He hadn’t smiled at him.

  ‘I shouldn’t,’ Rose was saying.

  ‘I’ll be the wit-keeper,’ he told her. ‘Relax.’

  ‘I’m not too sure I can trust you.’

  ‘Aren’t we almost cousins?’

  ‘Cousins, if my mother hadn’t played fast and loose. But, even if we were, family doesn’t necessarily mean trust. Look at me and my sister.’

  ‘Yeah, I don’t understand that. Were you close when you were small?’

  ‘When we were very young, yes. But my father thought Julianna was great, and he used to take her with him when he travelled. He travelled a lot, and I think it used to amuse him, to have such a gorgeous little girl calling him Papa. My mother and I stayed behind. Then we were booted out. I didn’t mind,’ she said diffidently. ‘Much.’ Then she shook herself. ‘No. That sounds iffy. My mother and I had some really good times after we got out of the royal bit. We stayed with my Aunty Cath in London. The three of us always dreamed of going adventuring together, but Mum had rheumatoid arthritis and Aunty Cath owned six cats. That’s a bit of a restriction where adventuring’s concerned.’

  ‘When did your mother die?’

>   ‘When I was twenty. Two years after Aunty Cath. A year after the last cat.’

  ‘And then you met Max.’

  ‘So I did,’ she said diffidently. ‘And he was great.’

  ‘But an invalid?’

  ‘Not when I first knew him. We had almost a year when he was in remission—we thought he was cured.’

  ‘Did you marry him because you loved him?’ Nick asked before he could help himself. ‘Or because you felt sorry for him?’

  Somewhat to his surprise, she answered seriously. ‘You know, it was a whole lot of things,’ she said. ‘Max was twenty-six, and seemed older because he’d been ill. He was so pleased to be well again. It was just lovely—he wanted to try everything, do everything. And his family…We’d hardly even been a family, and after Mama and Aunty Cath there was no one. We went up to Yorkshire the first Christmas after we’d met, and it was such a welcome. The whole town, one big family. It was like coming home again. It was only afterwards that I felt…’

  ‘Felt what?’

  ‘Look, if Max had lived it would have been fine,’ she said, sounding defensive again. ‘But Max was larger than life. He had to be, he had too much living to do. The village had pooled together to get him the best medical treatment money could buy. As a community it was a huge commitment, and they loved him. When he died, well, there was only me, and they sort of transferred their loving to me.’

  ‘And you’re tired of loving?’

  ‘A little bit,’ she admitted, and sipped her champagne and smiled ruefully. ‘I wouldn’t mind a bit of adventuring. Me and Hoppy.’

  He smiled back. Her smile was infectious even when it was rueful.

  ‘And you,’ she said curiously. ‘What about your childhood? Erhard told me you’re devoted to your foster mother.’

  ‘Ruby’s great.’ But his words were curt. He didn’t like people enquiring into his background. The knowledge that Ruby’s macramé class had been infiltrated gave him an odd feeling. Like he was exposed.

  ‘Hey, if we’re going to be married I need to know stuff about you,’ she said. ‘And you asked first.’

  ‘So what do you need to know? How I like my toast buttered in the morning?’

  ‘Butter your own toast, big boy,’ she said, but she chuckled. ‘No, but you know the sort of thing. I’d hate to find out that you have a fiancée and twelve kids.’

  ‘No fiancée. No kids,’ he said a bit too hastily. ‘I’m sure Erhard would have told you if I had. But what about you? Did you and Max want kids?’

  Her face closed, just like that.

  ‘No.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.’

  ‘That’s three sorries in as many minutes from a lawyer,’ she said, awed, and he thought she was changing the subject.

  He went along with it though.

  ‘I guess three sorries mean I’m at your mercy.’

  ‘You know, I’m very sure you’re not.’ She smiled, but absently, and went back to hugging Hoppy. And looking out the window. Conversation over.

  He left her to it, if reluctantly, retiring into a pile of documents he needed to study. Even though he was taking a month off there were things he couldn’t delegate. And time on planes was work time.

  So he studied. Or he tried to study. Rose’s nose stayed against the window. It was a very cute nose.

  ‘What are you looking at?’ he asked at last, but she didn’t look around.

  ‘Mountains.’

  ‘Surely you’ve seen mountains before?’

  ‘I used to see these peaks from the distance when I was a child.’

  ‘You never went there?’

  ‘Mama was an invalid. And my father…’ She shrugged. ‘He took Julianna.’

  ‘But you’ve travelled?’ he said, startled, and she shook her head.

  ‘Only when we came to London. My mother was English, you see, so when my father sent her away she went to Aunty Cath. Then we were a bit stuck. But then, when I was twenty, Aunty Cath had a life-insurance policy—not very much, but enough. She’d stipulated I use it to travel. Mum seemed well, and the cats were all dead.’

  Then she grinned. ‘Hey, don’t look sympathetic yet—we had some truly weird cats, and their collective age when they died was about a thousand. Anyway, Mum only had herself to look after and she was enthusiastic that I go. I had ten weeks’ university holiday. Every holiday since I was fifteen I’d worked, trying to help. But this time it all seemed to fit. So I took a deep breath and flew to Australia, intending to backpack along the east coast. But the airline contacted me before I even reached Sydney. My mother had had a heart attack. Apparently she’d been having chest pain and hadn’t told me. She’d seen specialists and still hadn’t told me. She was dead before I got home. I used the last of Aunty Cath’s nest egg to bury her and went back to university.’

  He felt his own chest tighten. ‘Didn’t your father help?’

  ‘You’re kidding?’ she said harshly. ‘Of course not. He and Julianna stayed far away. Anyway…’ She took a deep breath and moved on. ‘How about you? How did you get to be an international lawyer?’

  ‘Hard work.’

  ‘If there was no money, you must have wanted it a lot.’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ he said, hesitating. She had him off balance. He’d not been questioned in such a personal way since…Well, since Ruby had sat him down after his secondary school results had come in, looked him straight in the eye and said, ‘Tell me you don’t want to be a lawyer because of the money?’

  Was Rose asking the same question? Maybe she was.

  ‘I don’t really know,’ he said, with the same reluctance he’d shown when Ruby had asked. But he’d been seventeen then. Now he was thirty six, and he’d had time to think his response through. ‘I suspect it was a lot to do with my childhood. I felt helpless then—being taken from foster home to foster home. So I wanted security. Yes, I wanted a job where I could be in control. But there was also the issue of who my mother was. I knew about her royal background. It fascinated me. The only thing I had was a knowledge that the royal family of Alp de Montez was somehow my family. International law…Well, my job’s helped to answer questions and make me feel as if the world is a smaller place.’

  ‘Good answer,’ she said, and she smiled.

  ‘And vet science?’

  ‘I always wanted a dog,’ she said. ‘And I was really fond of Aunty Cath’s cats, even though they were collectively insane. Maybe that’s a dumb reason for choosing a career, but there it is. I didn’t have any wish to link internationally—even with Alp de Montez.’

  ‘You’ve kept the language up?’

  ‘I practiced with Italian and French language tapes while I was at university—just for fun, because it seemed a shame to lose it. How about you?’

  ‘My mother must have spoken the language when I was tiny. I hardly know how I got it, but it’s there. I learned French and Italian at university as well. I gather the language of the Alp countries is a mishmash of both, so it seems we’ve both kept a little of our backgrounds.’

  ‘Yeah, we’re both royal,’ she said absently. ‘Um, there’s snow on these mountains. And dots. Lots of colourful dots. Ski slopes?’

  ‘These are the best ski-slopes in the world.’

  ‘Do you ski?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘On these mountains?’

  ‘Sometimes, yes.’ International ski-fields were a good base for meeting the people he needed to know.

  ‘Goodness,’ she said faintly.

  ‘Lots of people ski,’ he said, knowing he sounded defensive, but not being able to stop himself.

  ‘Not in my world they don’t. They trudge round digging out livestock and swearing at the snow in general.’

  ‘You’ve never skied?’

  ‘I suspect there’s a whole lot of stuff I’ve never done.’ She turned to face him. ‘Including marrying someone who skies in places like thes
e.’ She shook her head and hugged her dog again. ‘It’s a whole new world.’

  ‘Do you know what you’re letting yourself in for?’

  ‘No,’ she said honestly. ‘I know the people. I know there was lots that I loved. But I don’t know the political set-up. Do you?’

  ‘I’ve researched this well, yes.’

  ‘It’s more than I have,’ she conceded.

  ‘You just jumped.’

  ‘That’s right. Ran, more like.’

  ‘It does sound appealing,’ he said. ‘Playing princess.’

  ‘I don’t expect I shall play princess,’ she said absently. ‘As you said, it’s dumb to eat caviar. I guess if I have authority then I’ll start by doing things like selling this ostentatious aeroplane.’

  But it seemed she’d said the wrong thing. The screen in front of them was put aside with a decisive click. The man who’d been serving them, Griswold, was staring at them in consternation.

  ‘You must not,’ he said in his own language. And he sounded desperate.

  Rose frowned, confused by his sudden interjection, slipping effortlessly into the language that matched his. ‘We mustn’t sell this aeroplane?’

  ‘No. I…Not yet.’

  ‘I guess it’s your job,’ she said, confused.

  ‘It’s not my job,’ the elderly man told her. ‘Or not very often. I’m sorry. This is none of my business. I shouldn’t have said. Your dinner is almost ready.’

  ‘So tell us why we shouldn’t sell the plane,’ Nick asked, moving easily into the language as well.

  ‘We need you to be the royal couple,’ Griswold said simply. ‘Nothing else will save the country.’ And he flicked back the screen and went back to work.

  No more was said until the meal was served—magnificent beef steak, which spoke heaps of Griswold’s skill in cooking in confined spaces. No pre-packed airline food this.

  There was chocolate mousse to follow, and espresso coffee. Finally as he cleared the coffee cups away Griswold’s severe face relaxed a little. But as he reached for Rose’s cup she took his wrist and held.