The Playboy Prince and the Nanny (Royal Duology 1)

The look of pity was back, and Stephani handed over a copy of the newspaper.

The ball of dread, along with all the feeling in her body, seemed to drop right to her feet. She knew right away the moment the photo had been taken. When Raoul had hugged her in the garden, and then kissed her cheek. Her face wasn’t visible, but his was, if a bit grainy. And there was the stupid ponytail that she’d pulled her hair into before going out to the gardens.

She read the headline and wasn’t sure if she wanted to weep or ball up the paper and heave it into the trash where it belonged.

“Everyone’s seen it?” Her voice came out sort of strangled, and she cleared her throat.

“Yes.”

“And they think that I . . .” Oh Lord. Did the staff really believe she was fooling around with Raoul? It was Diego who’d captured her heart. Ernestina had said not, but . . .

“You need to speak with Raoul and the king,” Stephani advised in a low voice.

“But Diego . . .”

“Diego isn’t here, Rose. He’s gone.”

The cold feeling rushed back, and she actually felt herself weave a little bit. She put her hand on the side of the desk for support.

Stephani got her a chair and sat her in it, then brought her a glass of water. “Don’t say anything more here,” she said quietly.

“Why not?”

“Take a look at that picture again, Rose. Then maybe you’ll understand. I’ll let them know you’re here.”

Rose looked at the photo again. It wasn’t a great picture, and enlarged it was indeed quite grainy. With her back to the lens, her identity was shielded to anyone who didn’t know her.

With her back to the lens. But her back had been toward the castle wall . . .

She looked up at Stephani. “Oh. I see.”

“I thought you might. Come with me, please.”

She led Rose to the king’s office, which was even grander than Raoul’s. Intimidated and unsure of herself, Rose stepped inside and dropped into a curtsy.

“Good afternoon, Rosalie. Please, come in and sit down.” Alexander swept a hand out and gestured toward a tufted chair to the side of his massive desk.

It was like being called to the headmaster’s office.

“Don’t be afraid,” Raoul said gently, and she belatedly noticed him standing beside a bookcase. “None of this is your fault. You were caught in the crossfire, and we’ll make sure you come out of it unscathed.”

Slightly reassured, she perched on the edge of the velvet upholstery. “I am so sorry,” she breathed, looking first at Alexander and then at Raoul. “Last night—“

“Last night you were a friend when I needed one. I don’t usually have that much to drink, and you listened to me and helped me inside. I’m indebted to you, Rose, not angry.”

He was using her first name. That, too, was reassuring.

“The photo,” she said carefully. “It was taken from inside the castle, wasn’t it? Not with some huge telephoto lens from the paps.”

Alexander nodded gravely. “Yes. We’re not sure if it was one of the staff or someone hired for the event who hadn’t left yet.” He frowned. “If it was someone here, within our household, this might not be the end of it. There’s more story to sell, you see.”

“More?” She tilted her head. “You don’t think the insinuation and photo was enough?”

Raoul came over and took the seat next to her. “They would have seen your face, Rose.”

And her identity, so they could feed the tabloids more and more. That she was the children’s nanny. Perhaps even her relationship with Diego. They’d been discreet but not invisible. “I should resign,” she said quickly. “Then the story will go away.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” Alexander said.