Royal Baby (A British Bad Boy Romance) (18 page)

She smiled. “Thank you, your Majesty. That means a great deal to me. And please don’t worry; I know how bad it looked. I was holding the knife when everyone came in, after all.”

Michael seemed to perk up a bit.

“That is very decent of you, Keira.” My mother looked back to Alexandra. “Since you are walking out of here with no ill-consequences for your actions and wanton vandalism, I feel an apology would be the very least we could ask of you. As well as being the only proper thing to do.”

Anger washed across Alexandra’s face. “Apologize to the servant your son is…”

“Now, Alexandra.” My mother’s face was set in granite.

For a moment Alexandra’s face was a tussle of expressions as she tried to decide what to do. Then she stood and turned to Keira, and Keira stood too.

“Miss Valencia,” Alexandra said sweetly. “You’ll never have him.
Cunt
.”

She brought back a hand to slap Keira across the face, and I darted forward to stop her. Luckily, the hand was quickly caught mid-swing by my mother, and to the shock of all in the room, she delivered a stinging slap across Alexandra’s face.

“I do not know how you behave in your own country,” she said. Her voice was quiet, but the suppressed rage was there for all to hear. “But when you are in mine, you will behave as befits royalty. That means with decency and respect towards all. We have been placed above other people by birth, not by God, and our actions can drag us down below them again just as easily. In case the message has somehow failed to get across, Alexandra: I don’t care how advantageous the match may be, you will
never
marry any son of mine.”

With that, she swept out of the room, followed by Michael. Alexandra stood still, a shocked expression on her now-red face, and she looked at me and Keira, then over at the computer screen. I could tell she wanted to get some sort of revenge by going to the media and telling them about us, but she also knew that if she did that, we’d release the video of her attacking the painting, which would certainly make everyone question her story, not to mention her sanity.

Finally, she put her head down and rushed out of the room as well. As she did so, I hurried over to Keira, wrapping one arm around her shoulders and placing another hand on her abdomen.

“Are you okay? I know stress is bad for babies…is the baby okay?”

She nodded. “I’m fine.”

“I’m so sorry. I should’ve known she’d do something like this,” I said. “I got caught up talking to one of the other Swedish dignitaries in the sitting room, and by the time I was done, I figured you’d already be finished work and asleep in your room. But I should’ve checked on you.”

She smiled. “Andrew, really, it’s not your fault. There’s no way you could’ve seen this coming.”

“Well, still…I feel like I should’ve somehow known and prevented it,” I said. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

“Yes,” she replied, her smile growing wider. “I’m totally fine. I knew you’d come for me, I knew you’d believe me, and I knew you’d help me. I’ve always had trouble trusting people in the past—because of my parents in my younger years, I suppose—but I trust you. I knew you’d be here for me.”

I grinned. That was the first time in my entire life that a woman had said she trusted me, and somehow, it felt just as important and sweet as hearing the words ‘
I love you’
. It was even more important coming from Keira, given how hard she found it to trust people, especially a guy with a past like mine. But she did, and I was beyond grateful.

I just hoped I was truly good enough to be loved and trusted implicitly by a woman like her.

Chapter 20

Keira

“We have to tell her you’re pregnant. I’ve been biting my tongue, but I can’t for much longer. I mean, we’re having a baby! I want to tell the world!”

Andrew looked at me, waiting for a response, and I sighed and took a moment to think while I looked over the gardens where we were sitting.

It had always been hard for us to find much time to be together but, following the disastrous Princess Alexandra affair, things had become simultaneously easier and harder. On the one hand, there was a tacit understanding with Michael and the Queen that there was something going on between us. Given all that had happened—and the fact that Andrew had outright told them several times—it would’ve been impossible to deny and was equally impossible for them to ignore. That made things easier, because the prior necessity of sneaking around behind their backs no longer existed, or at least existed to a lesser degree, and I’d still managed to keep my job (which was probably out of their guilt for the way I’d been treated during the Alexandra incident). But on the other hand, while the fact that there was something ‘going on’ between us had become known to them, the exact nature of it remained up in the air.

I knew exactly what that nature was: we were in love. And, though I might once have questioned Andrew’s feelings for me, I was now convinced beyond a shadow of doubt that he felt the same way. The problem was that I was sure the rest of the royal family thought I was just a fling; some girl whom Andrew had taken a temporary liking to, but would be out of the picture soon. He’d told them otherwise, but given his past behavior, they weren’t exactly keen on believing a single word that came out of his mouth in regards to women.

Hopefully that’d change soon.

Also, as Andrew had just stated, there was still the baby to consider. At some point my condition would become obvious, the identity of the father would be equally obvious, and keeping the news out of the papers would become difficult, if not impossible. We had to do something before that point was reached; we had to get ahead of the story and control it before it got out of our control. The first step had to be telling the Queen, but there was a problem with that…

I was completely and utterly terrified of how she might react.

On the other hand, Andrew was all in favor of doing it now, and he looked at me expectantly, waiting for my answer. “I just don’t think the time is right,” I replied, nervously chewing on a fingernail.

“Do you think it’s going to get any righter?” he asked. “We need to tell her, Keira.”

“I know, but I think the more time we spend together, the more likely it is she’ll accept that we’re actually serious about each other,” I replied. “Maybe then it’ll be easier to tell her.”

“You don’t think the fact that you’re pregnant will indicate our seriousness?”

“There are more than enough accidental babies born every year to counter that,” I said. “It doesn’t show that we’re serious. It just shows that we weren’t careful enough.”

Andrew sighed. “I get the impression that you’re not giving me the whole story here.”

“I just worry.”

“About what?”

“About everything!” I exclaimed. “About tabloid headlines like, ‘Playboy Prince Has Knocked Up His Maid!’. That’s no way for a baby to be brought into the world, with that kind of crap surrounding him or her.”

“You’re not just a maid.”

“I am a maid. It’s literally my job right now.”

“Yes, but you know what I mean,” said Andrew. “This isn’t some sordid, backstairs thing—we love each other.”

“And I’m sure that’s how the press will report it...”

“It’s the truth.”

“Since when does that matter to the tabloids? I think Mark Twain once said ‘don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story’.”

“True. Well,” Andrew tried another tack, “telling my mother doesn’t mean telling the press. Once we tell her, we can take it from there.”

I still wasn’t sure. Honestly, I just wanted to pack up and sneak off to hide somewhere in outer Mongolia.

“What’s wrong?” Andrew asked, squeezing my hand.

“I like your mother,” I said truthfully. “But she…she has certain expectations for you. She isn’t looking to have a commoner as a daughter-in-law and mother of her grandchild.”

“Well, it’s damn well happening whether we tell her or not. And don’t call yourself a commoner.”

I shook my head. “All those things she said to Princess Alexandra about God and decency—how’s she’s going to feel about her grandchild being illegitimate? And as for Michael…I can just imagine him referring to the baby as ‘the bastard’ for all eternity.”

He grinned. “Well, our baby’s father is a big old bastard too,” he said, winking and indicating himself.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” I said, shaking my head despite the smile that was quirking my lips up.

Andrew shrugged. “There’s a great tradition of illegitimate children in the royal family. Look at Ewan the Great.”

“I think some things have changed in the last thousand years.”

Andrew snorted. “Not in my family they haven’t. Look, the fact is, my mother likes you.”

“She’s had enough bad headlines in the press over the last year, she’s trying to hold the dignity of the royal family together with both hands, and whichever way you cut it, her son’s affair with a maid ending in the heir to throne being conceived out of wedlock isn’t going to help.”

Andrew smiled patiently. “Keira, what exactly do you want to do?”

Put on the spot, I was silent. He was right, of course; it didn’t matter when we told the Queen. The situation was what it was, and waiting for it to change wasn’t going to help. And yet I still felt that now wasn’t the right time, and that a right time might yet present itself. I knew the belief wasn’t logical, but it was there nonetheless.

I suppose I could blame the pregnancy hormones for my irrational moments for now…

“Let’s wait just a little bit longer. We’ve still got time before I start to show, and if nothing changes, then we’ll speak to her and take the consequences.”

Andrew kissed me. “Your wish is my command.”

***

It was the following day that Andrew came to me, just as my shift was finishing, and asked me to go with him.

“You’re not going to try and change my mind again, are you? About speaking to your mother.”

“No,” he said. “I just…you know what? Wait and see.”

“Should I be blindfolded?”

“Probably, but there’s a lot of steps to climb so I wouldn’t recommend it.”

Andrew led the way through the Castle’s familiar corridors to an oak door with a huge iron fastening that looked to be as old as the castle itself. He got an impressive sized key out of his pocket.

“You’ve never been through here before, have you?”

“No.”

“You’re already excited, right?”

I shrugged. “Eh….maybe.”

Andrew grinned, and I knew he could see straight through my feigned disinterest. There were a few doors like this one in the castle, usually leading high up or deep down to areas no longer in everyday use. They were off limits to all but the upper echelons of the staff, so how could anyone not be thrilled at the prospect of what lay behind such sealed doors? It was hard not to imagine treasure, secret passages or skeletons hanging from the walls, although I was willing to admit that it was more likely to be old carpets and unwanted wedding presents. Still, the potential possibilities retained their power to excite, and my heart beat faster as I waited to see what lay behind the door.

The key grated uncomfortably in the lock, scraping off years of rust as it turned.

“Ready?” Andrew asked, flashing me a cheeky grin.

“You’re determined to make a meal of this, aren’t you?”

He grinned again and pushed open the door, revealing a cramped spiral staircase. A wash of cold and damp blew in from the open doorway, I shivered.

“Spine-tingling isn’t it?” Andrew said. “Makes you think.”

“About pneumonia, mostly,” I replied, still determined not to seem as excited as she felt.

He smirked. “Come on.”

“Aren’t there lights?”

“Oddly, no,” he said as he led the way. “I can’t believe the Tudors didn’t think to install them.”

“
Ha
. You’re hilarious,” I said, playfully jabbing him.

For a while we walked up in comparative darkness, until an arrow slit in the wall allowed daylight through.

“We’re above the level of the castle roof now,” Andrew said.

“We’re in a tower?”

“Hence the spiral staircase.”

“Duh,” I said, lightly slapping myself on the forehead. “I totally have that pregnancy brain thing that people always talk about.”

“Oh, I thought you were always this dim…hey, I’m kidding! I’m kidding!” Andrew said as I jabbed him again.

We passed regular arrow slits, casting their narrow illumination, and occasional doors, solid still, even with the passage of time.

“All sorts of crap in these rooms,” Andrew said. “A family like ours never throws anything away, so as fashions change, furniture just sort of migrates its way up here or down to the cellars.”

I didn’t ask why we’d come here or why we continued to climb. I didn’t think I’d even get an answer as Andrew clearly wanted to preserve his surprise, and frankly, I wanted to preserve the surprise as well. My pulse was racing with excitement, although that might also have been because there were an awful lot of stairs.

When we finally reached the top, we were presented with another elderly oaken door, smaller than the rest, seeming like an afterthought at the top of the tower.

“I hope this is the right key,” Andrew muttered to himself as he took out a second, smaller key and inserted it into the lock.

Again the lock grated, but the key turned and produced a succession of unwilling clicks as the rusted mechanism moved.

Andrew looked back at me with a grin on his face, and this time I couldn’t help answering with one of my own. Satisfied that he had my attention, he pushed at the old door with his shoulder. The hinges squealed but moved and the door edged open to reveal a little room beyond.

“After you.”

I peered in, my eyes adjusting to the gloom, alleviated by a hazy light that found its way through the dirty windows.

“Oh my…”

There were paintings stacked by the walls. They were layered with dust, but the darkness of the room had preserved them, and as I carefully wiped away the dust, I saw colors that were as rich and vivid as the day they were painted.

“This is impossible,” I breathed. I knew the artists. I knew their catalogues by heart. But what I was seeing were treasures that had been hidden from the world for centuries. Elsewhere in the royal houses, I’d been privileged to see artworks that had been seen by only a few academics and experts, but now I was seeing pictures that had not been seen by anyone outside of the British royal family. It was a moment of breathtaking wonder, the sort that any serious art-lover would probably kill for.

And yet my thoughts went in a different direction…

I looked at Andrew, who stood by the door, smiling eagerly. “Do you like them?” he asked.

I didn’t reply for a few seconds, and I quickly turned and looked back at the paintings, my mind mired in deep thought about my current situation. Andrew had brought me here for no other reason than to please me; to make me happy and inspire my artistic passions. It was a small gesture on his part, but such a sweet one, and for some reason it was enough to give me the strength and courage I needed for the very near future.

I took a deep breath and finally turned to respond.

“We should speak to your mother and tell her about the baby.”