The Playboy Prince and the Nanny (Royal Duology 1)

CHAPTER TWO

Diego had spent the the time since the funeral first in England and then in Argentina, ostensibly looking after Crown interests while conveniently distracting the press

. Dammit, he’d only been gone three weeks, and now it felt as if the household was falling apart. His acting as decoy had been meant to give the family some private time to get things together. Not crumble into pieces.

Diego ran his hand through his hair for the third time as he left the stables to go back to his private apartment. Maybe Lucy should have stayed to help. She’d offered, but Brody was needed home, in Canada, and Diego had known that Lucy would hate being apart from her husband for any length of time. Diego’d assured her that he’d return within a few weeks, and he’d expected his father and Raoul to have adopted the legendary Navarro upper lip by the time he got back.

Oh, the lip was stiff all right. But as far as getting on with things . . . not so much. The palace had been a happy, welcoming place before the funeral. Now it felt like a tomb.

Cecilia had made the castle a home with her love and her laughter. Now it was occupied by widowers and a couple of children who didn’t understand where their mother or their nanny had gone. Between the children crying and his brother staring in a daze, Diego wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep things going. This was the first situation he’d ever been in where he couldn’t bluff or charm his way out.

As his stomach growled loudly, Diego detoured from the family living quarters and headed to the north wing. He’d missed lunch, and dinner wasn’t for several hours. Besides, he’d always been far more comfortable in the kitchen than in the more formal parts of the castle. He’d just pop in for a snack rather than call for something to be brought to him.

He whistled a little as he made his way down the corridor, nodding at one of the maids who blushed and dipped in a quick curtsy as he passed. He smiled back, charmed, but felt that the protocol was so silly. He much preferred how it was with his friends, when he was just Diego. No rules or airs. Just an ordinary guy.

He stepped inside the kitchen and put on his sweetest, most boyish smile. “Buenos dias, Senora Ortiz,” he called out to the cook, who’d been supplying him with in-between meals since he’d been about five years old.

“Diego.” The voice came from the other side of the cavernous room. “What are you doing here bothering me in my kitchen?”

He grinned. No protocol here. Just the way he liked it.

He stepped farther into the room and peered around the corner. “I missed lunch. I thought maybe you’d have something you could feed a poor starving boy?”

She came bustling around the corner, a huge bowl in hand, her eyebrows raised nearly to her hairline. “And that poor starving boy would be you?”

He followed her into the room where the staff usually ate and stopped short at the sight of a young woman sitting primly at the table, a cup of tea in front of her.

“Oh, hello,” he said.

The look on her pretty face was priceless. Clearly she recognized him, and there was a fleeting expression of horror and embarrassment that flashed across her features until she schooled it away. She rose to her feet quickly and affected a small curtsey. “Good afternoon, Your Highness.”

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, that sounds so formal.” He smiled at her, trying to put her at ease.

“Then what shall I call you? Prince Diego?” Her cheeks pinkened. He was delighted. Young, blonde, blue eyed, fresh faced, and dressed in flowy black trousers and a tailored white shirt. Hmm. New staff? They kept getting prettier.

“You could try just ‘Diego,’” he replied.

Senora Ortiz swatted his arm. “No flirting,” she scolded.

He knew he should be embarrassed, but he wasn’t. Neither did he mind that he was a member of the royal family and he’d just been swatted on the arm by the cook.

He stepped forward. “I’m sorry, how rude of me. I didn’t even ask you your name.”

She swallowed, then smiled and held out her hand. “I’m Rosalie Walters. The new nanny.”

Her accent was delectable. He took her fingers in his, doubly happy to see her. “Oh, of course! I’m so glad you’re here. My niece and nephew need some happiness and light. It’s been so dreary around here for them.” He looked at her closely, and cocked his head a bit. “That accent. Surrey?”

She smiled then, a real, genuine smile and not the polite curve of lips of a moment ago. “Guildford, actually. My mum and dad still live there.”

“I went to school at Cambridge.”

“I know.” The acknowledgment put a little of the awkwardness back in her eyes, but she recovered nicely. “You’ve hardly any accent at all, Your Highness.”

“Diego,” he corrected, finally dropping her hand. “I sometimes forget English is actually my second language. I speak it far more often than I do Spanish these days.”

“Diego, are you going to talk to the nanny all day or have something to eat?” There was a sharp edge to Senora Ortiz’s voice that Diego didn’t mistake. Friendliness was one thing, but fraternizing with the staff would be severely frowned upon.

“Eat, of course.” He turned his charming smile on the cook and took the plate she’d prepared from her hands. “You’re an angel, Senora Ortiz.”