The Playboy Prince and the Nanny (Royal Duology 1)

Ugh. No wonder she’d been cold with him. Even her speech in the salon earlier had been uptight and annoyingly proper, just like that first night by the fountain.

She was no plaything. She was a godsend to the children and a spark of life in a dreary household.

He looked over at his brother, at his father. They were discussing some upcoming function and dinner that the palace was hosting and paying very little attention to Emilia and Max. Indeed, Diego was the only one who noticed Max stabbing his potato terrine over and over and over again, a look of supreme boredom on his face.

“Max,” he said quietly, “don’t play with your food.”

Max looked up and Diego was startled to see tears in the boy’s eyes. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.” Max blinked a few times and one tear slid down his little cheek. He wiped it away, sat up straight, and dipped his fork into his potatoes, taking a defiant bite.

Still Raoul didn’t see.

Five minutes later, when their main course was taken away, Diego motioned for their footman and gave him a quick instruction. Then he smiled at Emilia and Max. “The two of you are excused. You can have your dessert upstairs. One of the maids is going to deliver it to you.”

The look of utter relief nearly made him laugh. Raoul and Alexander stopped talking long enough to stare in surprise, but Diego didn’t care. He was going to say something and make them listen.

The children placed their napkins on the table and beat it for the door. While Rose was technically supposed to come to get them, they knew their way back upstairs.

“They have not had their dessert,” Raoul said, staring at Diego. “We eat as a family. Ceci—”

“Ceci is not here,” Diego replied, his heart pounding with apprehension. This was not a welcome topic, and he was likely to get slapped down for it. But it was important. “And sitting at this table and being miserable is not eating as a family.”

Alexander cleared his throat. “Diego,” he cautioned.

“No, Padré.” Determined, he carried on. “In the offices you are each Your Highness. Here at the table you are Padré or Abuelo. Those two little children are miserable. You didn’t even notice that Max was on the verge of tears. They miss Ceci. They miss Mariana. And I understand the importance of duty and the hours you must work, but Raoul, you need to spend time with your children.”

Raoul’s eyebrows had lifted and his eyes lit with indignation. “Do you, Diego? Do you know the hours I must work?”

Diego had put up with being the younger son for many years, and he’d stayed quiet about his feelings. But not tonight. For a few months now he’d picked up the slack without anyone noticing or caring. “You don’t think I put in work, too? Maybe it’s not ‘state’ business, but I’ve been running the stables and the breeding program ever since Lucy married Brody. I sit on the board of several charities that are near and dear to my heart. And in the last month, with few exceptions, I’ve taken hours out of every day to kick around a soccer ball with Max, watch a movie with Emilia, or have tea with them both.”

“They have their nanny . . .”

“And she is not family.” It pained him to say it, but he needed to get his point across. “Rose is a wonderful nanny, and thank God they have her. Otherwise they’d be totally alone.”

He softened his voice. “Raoul, I know you’re grieving. I can’t imagine how painful it is. But your children need you. They have anything a child could want except for your time and your love. Don’t deny them that.”

Raoul’s face had paled.

“Yesterday, I took the three of them on an outing. We had a wonderful time. Did you know Emilia is a first-class negotiator? You should have seen her bargaining at one of the market stalls. We had lunch in a taverna. And we got our picture taken. As a result, your very proper British nanny got her picture in the paper and suffered a blow to her reputation because she was there with me and not you.”

“It’s not my fault you have a reputation of being a . . . playboy.”

Diego picked up his wineglass, his fingers tightening around the bowl, but he kept his voice smooth. “There are times that my reputation serves you very well, hermano. Remember that.”

Alexander leaned forward. “Diego, enough.”

But neither of them denied it. Diego put a human face on what could be construed as a stuffy, outdated institution. He also was a perfect distraction. While he’d been traveling, the press had followed him around, leaving the royal family in relative peace, to grieve. It hadn’t been by accident.

“You’re the crown prince,” he finished softly, not wanting to cause further tension. “But Ceci brought out other wonderful qualities in you. She made you a better man. A husband and a father. Don’t lose those qualities now, Raoul. That’s all I’m asking.”

Raoul nodded. “I’ll clear my schedule for a few hours tomorrow. Maybe have lunch outside in the garden.”

“That’s all it takes,” Diego agreed. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go apologize to Rose for this awful position she’s in.”

He pushed out his chair and put his napkin on the table, leaving his tart untasted.

But before he went to see her, he went back to his rooms and changed out of his trousers and tie and put on a pair of jeans and a light cotton shirt, leaving the top two buttons undone. The evening was warm and he’d had enough of feeling stuffy today. His videoconference had demanded a polished appearance, so he’d been in a suit since ten.