The Duchess's Decision Page 2

  “That remains to be seen. Since I last saw you, I received a promotion. I’m now personal attaché to the Prince of Bellèno. His go to person. The man assigned to help him with pressing palace matters, sticky situations, you know, the usual.”

  “That sounds terrific!” I said. “Congratulations. So, you’ll be working for Max and be able to help us track down what went wrong with this latest snafu. It’s only been a couple of days, but I can’t reach Leo. He’s the guy to clear this whole thing up. Maybe he has a new lady in his life because he’s not at his townhouse, and he’s not answering any of my texts.”

  He cleared his throat, “Word is he has.”

  “Excellent,” I said. “Perhaps he’s taking a holiday with his new lady on a tropical island. They’re frolicking in the Caribbean, or the Seychelles, working on their tans while I’m stuck here in St. Luce smelling like curdled milk and yesterday’s dreams.”

  “Actually, Prince Leo is here,” Captain Sam said. “He touched down at the airport a little over an hour ago and is making his way toward us, even as we speak. Look.”

  I glanced up and spotted a black, shiny Mercedes town car with two motorcycles driven by security police leading the way through the crowds.

  “Thank God! Bellèno’s playboy prince might be a wild child but he’s no one’s fool. He loves his family, and he’s got a heart of gold. Tell me he’s going to end this mess here and now? That he’ll declare this is just a big, crazy mix up and that Max and I are truly married? That there’s been fake news about Bellèno royal marriages, and weddings.”

  “No,” he said. “I’m sorry to tell you this, but I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

  “But he has to do something.”

  “Oh he is. Prince Leo told me in great confidence that the palace is going to invoke an ancient royal law, break Max out of this jail, and have him transported to the palace where he’ll be under house arrest.”

  “That’s terrific, I think.” I smelled something a bit rank, and realized it was me. “I need to go home and shower before I drive to the palace to see Max.”

  “There’s plenty of time, Duchess,” he said. “But I believe you have to schedule your visit with the proper authorities in advance.”

  “I don’t think I’m a Duchess. What is this ridiculousness with the whole house arrest thing? These adultery charges need to be dropped. Max and I are legally wed. There is no way I’m married to Leo.”

  He sighed. “I’m so sorry. There’s been a cock-up.”

  “What do you mean, a cock-up?”

  “You know, a screw up, a mistake of epic proportions. The kind of thing that goes down in history books as being one of those quirky blunders that everyone loves to dissect. But when all is said and done, it’s tough to put a finger on it because a cock-up takes on a life of its own and becomes either a tragedy of comic proportions or a comedy with a tragic flare.”

  “That sounds familiar,” I said. “Kind of like everything that’s happened to Max and me since we tried to get married.”

  “You’re not the only person this has affected. Cock-ups have a ripple effect. Leo, your friends, the Royal family, the people that love them, and eventually even distant onlookers get involved in some way,” he said.

  “This ordeal is some weird kind of misunderstanding and someday we’ll laugh about it over a nice single malt Scotch,” I said. “But right now I am sleep deprived, my skin is tingling, and it doesn’t feel all that funny. I need to go home. Shower. Feed my dog and snuggle with him for a minute. And then visit my husband. I want to hug him, and kiss him, and tell him everything’s going to be all right. That we can go back to our married life. Is that too much for a girl to ask? Is that too much for a new bride to ask about her new husband?”

  “Actually, no. I feel for you, Duchess.”

  “Not a Duchess.”

  Captain Sam stared at his feet. “I’m actually here to escort you home.”

  “Thank God!” I said. “11211 Tiefencastle Park West, please.”

  “Actually, I’ll be driving you to 11213 Tiefencastle Park West.”

  “But that’s Leo’s place.”

  “And yours as well, Duchess. I’m here to escort you back to your royal residence as the lawfully married wife of Prince Leo of Bellèno, heir to the Bellèno throne.”

  Chapter 2

  LEOPOLD

  * * *

  “I am not upset!” Vivian hurled her croissant at me across the granite island countertop. I threw up a hand to deflect but it nailed me square on my lips, plummeted to the polished hardwood floors, and bounced. But I had decent reflexes from years of playing sports and caught it on the rebound. “I never would have suspected that in a million years.” I took a bite of the croissant and brushed flakes off my mouth and chin. “Roman, do you want some?” I held out my crumb-specked hand to her dog.

  “Stop,” Vi said. “That’s buttery, carbohydrate-rich people food that my dog does not need.”

  The yellow Labrador sashayed over to me and licked the crumbs from my hand, his tail wagging like a metronome. “Roman’s a good dog.”

  “He’s a fucking traitor,” Vivian said. “I appreciate all your hospitality, Leo. Thanks for the ride back here, having your guard walk Roman from my house to yours, letting me borrow your shower because for some unfuckable known reason my keys no longer work in the lock—”

  “My money’s on Archbishop Causesdesperdues. I bet he had the locks changed.”

  “And when I find a key to the new lock I will shove the old one up his ass.”

  “Not my fault. Don’t get mad at me. And don’t forget I lent you my robe.”

  “Thanks for the robe.”

  “Any time.” I’d never seen her in my robe before but I’d imagined it a thousand times. Full breasts. A generous mouthful.

  Vivian pointed over my head in the direction of the townhome next door that she shared with Max. “Roman has his own bed there.” The long sleeves that fit me, hung over her hands, only her fingertips peeking out. She looked so little and impossibly sexy.

  “Honestly,” she went on, “I don’t understand why I have to be here. Why can’t I stay at my place?”

  I sighed. “It’s complicated.”

  “How complicated can it be?” She paced back and forth across the kitchen. “Is my residence a crime scene? No. Is it infested with termites? No. Did someone discover ancient ruins under the joint and they’re now excavating a big fat hole in my kitchen and worried that we might fall in? No. I’m going back home. Roman, come!” She snapped her fingers and the front of the robe gaped open.

  I stared at her. Cleavage with a hint of a Playboy-esque topless shot just feet away. I shouldn’t look. I should avert my eyes. I should tell her. Nah. A present like this was meant to be enjoyed, not squandered.

  Vivian glanced down and jumped, which only made things better. “Jesus Christ, Leo. You couldn’t tell me I was flashing the Crown Prince of Bellèno a straight on titty shot? Asshat!” She yanked the lapels across her boobs and cinched the robe tighter around her waist. “You didn’t see that.”

  “Spectacular. Forever burned into my memory. Look, there are practical reasons for you to stay here. The sun’s going down, I don’t know who’s going to be lurking about, and the good news is that my place is thoroughly guarded.”

  “So is mine.”

  “Not anymore. We temporarily re-assigned that crew. Let’s get this mess figured out as quickly as possible, and then we can return to normal life.”

  “Define quickly.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I do. One night. I can live with this for only one night.” She held out her hand. “Pass me another croissant, please.”

  “You’re on. One night it is.” I tossed the croissant to her.

  She fumbled it, scraped it off the floor, and took a bite.

  “You have dog hair on your lips,” I said. Full lips. Lips that I’d dreamed about kissing for nearly two years.

&nb
sp; “I know.” She took another defiant bite. “Where’s Roman going to sleep?”

  “I thought you’d never ask.” I walked into the pantry and walked out with a cushy brown lounger and a few chew toys. I dropped them in the corner of the room. “He’ll enjoy his loaner bed and toys. Kind of like sleeping on the fold-out couch at your auntie’s place when you’re on holiday.”

  Roman dove onto the lounger, and rolled around in that dorkish, adorable way, exposing his pink underbelly.

  “You can’t give him toys and then take them away, Leo. He’ll bond with them and mourn them when they’re gone. Kind of like how I feel about your brother.”

  I grimaced. Of course she would miss Max. Why did I continue to hold out hope that Vivian might pick me if there was no hope to be had? I’d been tragically in love with my brother’s girl since I saw her that day on the tarmac nearly two years ago. The day she was pretending to be Lady Catherine Fontaine and I had shown up out of family duty, knowing I had to ask her to marry me. Shocked when I fell for her. More shocked when I discovered she was an imposter. “Roman can keep everything. Look, I’m sorry about Max. He never should have been arrested. This cock-up wasn’t completely my doing, you know. I can only imagine what you’ve been through in the past couple of days.”

  “Let me clear that up for you. My ladies and I have been marching outside the prison for two days because my husband, your brother, was hauled away in handcuffs on New Years Eve, and unlawfully detained. Undoubtedly we are tired, cold, hungry, and I feel terrible that the marchers endured that. You should have been there to shut this shit down. Where were you?”

  “I can’t tell you.”

  “What do you mean you can’t tell me?”

  Actually I could tell her. I didn’t want to tell her. I’d flown off to a friend’s beach cottage and shacked up with one of my regulars after her last wedding to Max. I needed to get my mind off the pain, and that seemed to be a temporary solution. “That statement’s self-explanatory.” I opened the fridge, and pulled out a few lagers and some crackers and cheese. “Answers to that question do not flow from me to you.”

  “Why not?”

  “Need to know basis. You’re not in the loop.” I was being ornery, and I didn’t know why.

  She frowned. “I hung out with the ladies-in-waiting. They’re a better dressed version of the CIA.”

  “We’re not in America.”

  “Fine. The BIA, the Bellèno Intelligence Agency.”

  “Oh, please.” I pulled a platter from a high shelf in a cabinet and set it on the counter.

  “Don’t ‘please’ me. The ladies know who’s sleeping with whom. They recognize governmental policy changes before changes are even introduced, and can distinguish persons considered lemons from those getting juiced into lemonade. The ladies are doctors and lawyers, bakers and pin-up girls, fashion icons, housewives in simple cottages, politicians, and girls in middle school who will some day become determined women who run for office. We are fierce. We are a force.”

  “I wish I could harness your awesome collective power for the problem that currently confronts us. That situation might not have landed Max in jail, but prickly problem that it is, currently keeps him there.” I pulled back the saran wrapping and picked up a knife. “Do you prefer the extra sharp cheddar or are you a goat cheese kind of girl?”

  “Extra sharp with the stone wheat thin crackers. You don’t really believe all that shit about you and I being married, do you?”

  “I didn’t at first.”

  Her cheeks popped red, her eyes widening. “What do you mean ‘at first’?”

  “We’ll talk. I need to blow off some steam. Exercise does that for me. Or you could flash me your magnificent tits, again. Are they real?”

  “Shut up.”

  “Get dressed. Wear something warm, clothes you can move in.” My phone buzzed and I picked up. “Yes, let them in.”

  “Let who in? I’m not prepared for company.”

  Mr. Cartwright, dapper septuagenarian swept into the room followed by two guards pushing a luggage rack. It was filled with wardrobe boxes and dollies piled high with cartons and suitcases. They stopped and bowed to us.

  “Greetings, your Royal Highness,” Cartwright said. His face was ruddy, his white hair clipped neatly, his winter overcoat impeccable.

  “Thanks for helping us out, Cartwright,” I said.

  “Of course. Per your request, Vivian’s clothes and sundries have been transferred to this address.”

  “Excellent.”

  Vivian frowned. “Not excellent.”

  “Take those upstairs, please,” I said. “Last bedroom on the left.”

  The movers scurried fast as mice. “And while you’re at it, Cartwright, give Vivian the lay of the land. I’ll meet you both back down here in ten minutes.” I jogged up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

  “I’m not in the least bit happy about this, Leo,” Vivian called after me.

  “Sadly, I’m not the King of Happiness,” I called back.

  Chapter 3

  VIVIAN

  * * *

  I hugged Cartwright. “Are you my knight in shining armor? Have you come to rescue me from purgatory? I don’t want my clothes to be here. I want them back in my townhouse, tucked away in the closets and cupboards next to the lilac sachets I bought at the farmer’s market.”

  “I wanted a pony for Christmas when I was six,” Cartwright said. “I got a book on arithmetic and the board game Clue. We take what is given to us, find the silver lining, and get the job done. Surely you, of all people, know that.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “I’ve been tasked with getting you organized.” He frowned so hard his jaw muscle popped in his cheek. “The layout of Prince Leo’s place is a mirror image of the townhouse you share with Max. We’re setting you up in the primary guest room. Follow me.”

  “Hang on. Let me check my Fitbit. Thirty-four thousand steps. The marching took a lot out of me, thank God, because I’ve been stress eating.” I grabbed my plate of crackers and cheese from the kitchen countertop. “I’m following you. Right on your ass, actually.”

  “We seem to have taken a few steps back in the etiquette department with the potty mouth, Vivian.”

  “You’ll have to deal with the potty mouth, Cartwright. I’ve developed a bit of an anger problem recently, and I fear it’s not going away any time soon.”

  Cartwright lead me down a hallway on the third floor. “Look on the bright side, Vivian. Nothing’s changed. You’re still intimately involved with Bellèno royalty.”

  “Be careful how you use the word ‘intimate’ please. Everything’s changed. I’m staying the night in Leo’s home and I fear things are worse for Max. He’s been through hell since the last time I saw him.”

  “Max is probably catching up on whatever’s playing on Netflix this month. You, on the other hand, have come full circle.” He pointed to a bedroom door. “You’re back with Leo, the Crown Prince of Bellèno, and you’re here to complete a mission. If you’re lucky, you’ll get it done quickly and be reunited with your true love in no time.”

  “Wait just one minute. What do you mean a ‘mission’? Do I look like a spy to you?”

  He pushed open the bedroom door and gestured. “Yes. You might polish up quite nicely but you still resemble Vivian Trabbicio, the very competent girl we hired in Chicago to get a sensitive job done.”

  “That was almost two years ago. A part-time job where I was hired to impersonate Lady Catherine Fontaine for a limited period of time. It wasn’t meant to be forever. It certainly wasn’t meant to be now, after I married Max.” I padded into the large, well-appointed bedroom with Roman on my heels.

  As much as I didn’t want to be here, I had to admit the chamber was soothing. The floors were white distressed pine, the bed large, covered in sea foam green and ocean blue down comforters and pillows. I walked over to the closed curtains, pulled back a panel, and looked out on Tiefencastle Park. Sno
wflakes wafted down on this idyllic tableau of trees and pathways, a large icy lake, and a flock of geese winging against the torched, sunset-lit winter sky. It resembled the inside of a charming snow globe.

  But then I recognized the bright, harsh lights surrounding the prison in the distance several miles away, and the prettiness dissolved. “I fulfilled my end of the bargain when I traveled to Bellèno, kept Prince Leo’s interest, and didn’t sleep with him. I survived an attempt on Lady Catherine ‘Cici’ Fontaine’s life, which at the time was actually my life. I ditched Leo on our wedding day and did not marry him, even though that would have been the simpler thing to do. I told the truth and stopped the lie before the lie was cemented into place.”

  “Because you fell in love with Max.”

  “Because I wanted to do the right thing. Sorry-not-sorry I fell in love with Max. He’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”

  “What if the best thing that ever happened to you was meeting everyone here in Bellèno? The citizens love you. The ladies have adopted you as their BFF. Their American Princess. Royal Nana even gifted you her favorite oil painting.”

  “You mean the large portrait of her with the single chin that hangs over our fireplace?”

  “Her favorite rendition. If she didn’t like you she would have sent the obligatory gift certificate to Pottery Castle and a silver place setting. Can’t you find it in your heart of hearts Vivian to do one last part-time job for the Royal House of Bellèno?”

  “I’ve put that part of my life behind me.” I pulled open the closet door and did a double take. “Jesus! How is it possible all my clothes are already hanging in the closet and arranged according to color?”

  “You owe that to one of the guards. Private Stevie Winterspear recently earned his certificate as a professional closet organizer.”

  “He’s hired,” I said. “Shoo, Cartwright! Give a girl some privacy, please.”

  “Don’t dally.” He walked out of the room and shut the door.