Reluctantly Royal (3 page)

“Don’t think about it again. Trust me when I say I’ve had my fair share of family drama.” I took her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. It was an archaic gesture, but I couldn’t resist touching my lips to her in some way. “Please let me know if you need anything.”

“Anything?” Her eyes sparkled, but I could see the sadness shining through.

“Anything at all.” I squeezed her fingers gently before letting go. “I’m at your service.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” A genuine smile lit her face. “Good night, Your Highness.”

“Good night, my lady.” I bowed my head before leaving.

My car was waiting outside and as I climbed into the back, I berated myself. A little flirting was one thing, but this felt dangerous. Good thing I wouldn’t see them again until the funeral.

THREE

H
OLY HOTNESS,
THAT
man was trouble. Tall, lean, but with broad shoulders, and a face that made me want to do naughty things. He was the walking personification of a fallen angel; handsome beyond measure, with the promise of hot, sweaty nights in his eyes. I leaned against the door and blew my hair out of my face. Every fiber of my being was exhausted from grief and anger, but one look from Max had yanked me back to the land of the living. There was something in his eyes that made me nervous but excited.

I was no stranger to flirting. Hell, I’d had a baby at the age of seventeen. I knew my way around men, which was basically easy; use them for what you want, expect nothing else, and discard them as fast as possible. I had learned that from watching men do the same thing to women. Though they were usually just after sex, and that wasn’t something I was willing to give to anyone again. So I strung them along with the promise of someday and then dropped them like a bad habit as soon as I got what I needed; whether it was a ride to work or a new job. Hell, I’d even flirted down the rent payment on my apartment a couple of years ago.

Once Grandfather had been granted his title and lands back, I had dropped men altogether. The only good one I knew was now gone.

Tears gathered in my eyes and I rubbed at them with the heels of my hands. Crying wasn’t going to get this family through everything. I might have to quit school so I could make sure that Dad didn’t ruin our new chance on life. If things hadn’t changed I’d still be working at the same restaurant waiting tables in Southampton. I leaned my head back against the door and closed my eyes. I could still finish a degree, just not in performing arts. Any degree would be better than no degree, and I’d never thought I’d have the chance to even think about going to university.

“My lady, dinner is ready.” The butler stepped into the hallway and motioned toward the dining room.

“Thank you.” I stood up from the door and wished that we were having dinner in the kitchen around the island with Granddad instead. He hated eating in the formal dining room. We used to eat around the television in the living room. The formal furniture, place settings, and silverware were all foreign to us.

“Mom! What are we having for dinner? Nothing gross, right?” Marty bounded down the stairs and I straightened my shoulders and smiled. “I’d really like pizza.”

“No pizza.” I shook my head and smiled. “I think we’re having roast chicken.”

“Ah, man.”

“Wah.” I pulled him against my side as we walked to the dining room. “How are you holding up?”

“I dunno.” He shrugged. “I’m sad, but Max made it a little better. I liked playing video games with him.”

“I saw that. It looked like you were both having fun.” Guy time was hard to come by for Marty. His father had ditched me as soon as I saw the plus sign on the pregnancy test, and my father had little to do with Marty from the day I announced I was pregnant. It had been my grandfather who had stepped up and taken us under his wing. I had been scared and lost, but Granddad had always steered me in the right direction. He’d been our rock.

“He’s pretty cool for an old guy.”

I laughed. “He’s not old, and you’re just saying that because he let you fly his plane.”

“Oh man. That was so awesome!” He skipped a step. “I should have made a loop.”

“I don’t think those kind of planes are meant to make loops.” Though there had been a couple of moments when Max had made my stomach make loops.

I put my hands on his shoulders and ushered him into the dining room. To my utter relief my father wasn’t to be seen. Considering how much he had been drinking today, he was probably passed out in his wing of the manor. Dinner was quiet but peaceful, and considering the day we had, I couldn’t ask for more than that.

Marty was yawning by the time we finished the chicken and his little eyes were rimmed in red. After I tucked him into bed, I walked down the long hallway of our wing and hesitated by my grandfather’s bedroom door. Taking a deep breath, I pushed it open and leaned against the door frame. Everything looked normal, like he would be back any minute. Someone must have changed the sheets and made the bed after he was taken away.

Tears ran down my cheeks as I imagined no one here to mourn his passing, no one to care as he was loaded into a hearse. I had to remind myself that it was impossible to not love the old man. The staff went out of their way to make sure he was happy. In fact, I had noticed more than one pair of red and watery eyes since I had gotten back. He hadn’t been alone. He hadn’t been in pain. It had been quick.

I covered my mouth as I cried. It hurt that he was gone, like something had been ripped away from my body. I’d known he was sick—his heart hadn’t been the same since his first heart attack—but it still hadn’t seemed possible that he would really leave us. Leave us to deal with my father.

My asshole of a father.

Rage flooded my body, the grief only heightening my anger. Drunkard. Selfish idiot. I couldn’t believe what I had seen when I had walked into the home this afternoon. Selling a story to some sleazy reporter for a few bucks? It made me sick. Without my grandfather, my father would be in jail—or dead. The man couldn’t care less about a person, except for when it could possibly benefit himself.

I balled my hands into fists at my sides and squeezed my eyes shut. What the hell was I going to do with that man? Grandfather had refused to believe he wasn’t worth saving—that he wouldn’t turn around at some point—but I knew better. I knew that my old man would sell us for a pint. Hell, he had sold his father’s life story before the man was cold and in his grave.

Soft footsteps broke my train of thought and I looked up into the face of one of the housekeepers. Quickly I wiped my cheeks and fought a sniffle.

“Can I help you?”

“My lady, I just wanted to let you know that Gerard, the head butler, accompanied your grandfather today. He wasn’t alone.” She smiled apologetically. “I know you worried about him, with you being so far away, but we all treated him like he was our own family.”

“Yes, you did.” I smiled and stood up a little straighter. It did help to know that he wasn’t alone. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She dipped her head briefly. “If you need anything, let us know. Gerard will help get everything ready for the funeral.”

When she left I slumped back against the door frame. I was tired; mentally, emotionally, and physically. I had no idea how to plan a funeral, but needed to get started. How long did Lilarians wait before having the service? Would it be scandalous to cremate my grandfather? Or did the family have some kind of special tomb? A royal burial ground? I smacked my head against the door frame once before standing back up.

There was too much to do to stand here having a pity party. Granddad would tell me to stop worrying and to get going. He’d be right, of course. Worrying wouldn’t get anything accomplished.

Inside my room, the blankets were already turned down and there was a packet of information lying on the foot of my bed. I picked the envelope up from the white duvet and pulled the papers out. There were different packages of services that could be held. Notes had been made in the margins to let me know what would be expected for a duke’s burial.

Even after the last few years it was hard to keep my eyes from bugging out of my head at the totals that were highlighted. My grandfather was going to have a burial fit for a king. Well, a duke anyway. Good grief, there were requirements for the type of ceremony he should receive. And one of the royal family members would be present? Were they serious?

Granddad would have wanted something small and simple. Probably with a round of pints for all. The ceremony these papers outlined was far from an intimate family gathering. There were lists of flowers, how many pallbearers were required. Pallbearers? Six were required. Penciled in next to the words were three names; men who had worked for my grandfather, including Gerard, who had made the notes.

I closed the package and dropped it on the nightstand. I needed to find three more pallbearers. Sadly, I couldn’t assume that my father would agree to the job, and while I hated to even think of it, I wondered if I should let Marty be one of the pallbearers. Would that be appropriate? Hadn’t Prince William and Prince Harry walked with their mother’s carriage? Was I a bad mother for considering this, or a bad person for comparing my grandfather’s death to that of the People’s Princess? Shit, I was just a bad person all around.

I threw myself back on my bed and used my toes to kick my shoes off. I loved this bed. It wrapped around me like a warm cocoon, without making me feel like I would suffocate. It was heaven.

I blinked slowly, my eyes tired and gritty from tears. Rolling over on my side I tucked my hands under my head and looked at the photograph on the nightstand. It was all of us in front of our old house. Even Dad had stood there with a smile on his face; one of the rare moments when we’d all been getting along. Reaching out, I grabbed the frame, tucking it against my chest, and choked down a sob.

I never got to hug my grandfather good-bye.Tears were my only company as I cried myself to sleep.

The soft glow of sunlight peeking through my curtains woke me up just before the sound of feet running down the hall.

“Mom!” My door flung open and Marty ran into my room. Tears streamed down his face.

“C’mere.” I held my arms open for him. He climbed on my bed and buried his face against my shirt.

“I’m sad.” His voice was muffled and thick with tears.

“I know, baby.” I squeezed him tight and dug deep to find the strength to not cry too. “I’m sad too, but he wouldn’t want us to be upset.”

“Why?” He rubbed his tear-streaked face on my shirt and I didn’t stop him. Even though I was sure that there was snot mixed in with those tears. It didn’t matter. The only thing that was important was my baby’s broken heart.

“Did Great-Granddad ever want you to be sad?” I tsked. “He would have done something silly to make you laugh, then give you a big hug.”

“But he’s not here to do that now.” Fat tears welled in his eyes.

“Well, I’m not really good at silly stuff, but I can give you big hugs.” I lay back on the bed and tucked him against me. “You know what helps me?”

“What?” Sniffle, sniffle.

“Well, I know that he’s watching over us.” I snuggled closer to him and placed a kiss on his head.

“Like from heaven?”

“In some form or fashion he will be here watching us, trust me.”

He rolled over to look at me. “Do you think it upsets him that I’m so sad?”

“I think that he would hate for you to be sad, but would understand.” I kissed his nose. “It’s never easy when someone we love leaves us.”

That was something I knew all too well. How many times had I been left over the years? My mother for one, and then there was Marty’s father, who had run as soon as he found out I was pregnant. And now. Now my granddad. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t his choice, the hurt was still just as real.

“Will you fish with me?” He looked up at me with big eyes.

Uh-oh. I hated to fish. That meant handling worms or little bugs. I suppressed a shudder and looked at my son’s hopeful eyes. “I’ll try.”

“I’ll bait your hook!” He smiled, and my relief was immediate. Marty would be okay with time. As long as I was okay and calm, we would get through all of this.

“Deal?” I held out my pinky finger, which he latched on to with his own.

“Deal!” He kissed his thumb and I kissed mine. My fate was sealed. I’d be fishing sometime in the near future.

“Then get out of my bed and go get dressed.” I pushed his shoulders gently. “I have a lot to do today.”

“Like what?” He straightened his Darth Vader pajama shirt.

“I’ve got to get everything set up for the funeral.” I looked at him for a minute, deciding that I wouldn’t ask him to be a pallbearer. I also made a mental note to buy him new pajamas. The ones he was wearing were getting short.

“Are you going to cement him like Great Grandma?”

I couldn’t help the sputter of laughter that escaped me. “Cement him?”

“You know, put him in a vase like Grandma.”

“Cremate.” I shook my head. “Not cement.”

“Weird.” He shook his head. “Can I wear regular clothes?”

In other words, could he wear jeans, not khaki pants and a button-up shirt.

“Yes.” I waved my hand at him. “Now scat. I need a shower.”

“And to brush your teeth.” He giggled when I blew in his direction.

“You too, monster.”

As soon as he was out of my room and running down the hallway, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and stretched. I was still in my clothes from the day before, and I frowned. I must have been exhausted to be able to sleep in the form-fitting skirt and blouse I was wearing. Normally I preferred giant T-shirts and sweatpants for sleeping. Nothing tight or revealing for me. All of that stuff was reserved for the stage or special occasions.

I didn’t take long in the shower, just long enough to get clean. No lazy morning bath for me. I had too much to do. There were a lot of decisions to be made. Including one that left me feeling frustrated. Who could I ask to help carry Granddad’s casket?