The Billionaire King’s Heir (European Billionaire Beaus 3)

Felicity gave a little sigh. “There’s so much to do. I’m always bouncing between checking up on Joy and getting Hope ready for the next…appearance.” She sorted the toys with renewed fervor. “Hope will be awake from her nap any moment, and—”

“And there are plenty of caretakers on staff. Specifically, one who was hired to tend to her needs while you took care of your royal duties.” He saw the look she flashed up at him. “You do have royal duties, Felicity. You’re the mother of my child, and you’re going to be my wife, so—”

“All right.” Felicity stood up, brushing her hands on the front of her skirt. “I’ll go to the session today. But I’m not sure it’ll fix anything. When I get in those situations, I still feel like a fish out of water.”

His heart twisted. “I know it must be hard, moving to a new country, and settling into all kinds of customs you’re not used to.” On instinct, he reached out and took her hand. “But it’ll be easier with practice. I promise. In fact—” The idea came to him in a burst of inspiration. “I’ll attend the session with you.”

Felicity didn’t say no, but she did manage to stall for a few more minutes by finding the nanny and giving her extra instructions about Hope’s post-nap routine. Still, she brightened as they stepped into the meeting room where Lydia waited.

“I brought a guest with me today,” she told the elegant, silver-haired woman brightly.

“Good afternoon, Felicity,” said Lydia. She was warm and welcoming, and her attitude was no exception—everyone seemed to like Felicity. That’s why it had been such a trying three weeks. It should have been just a little easier. “King Rafael will come in handy.” She inclined her head toward Rafael, a bit of protocol that struck him as both outdated and comforting at the same time.

“What do you have in mind?” Rafael noticed that in Lydia’s presence, Felicity kept her hands neatly folded in front of her. It was the perfect pose for a queen to use. So there was some progress being made, just not enough.

“We’ll be practicing our maneuvers,” Lydia said, gesturing to a rack of gowns set up next to a privacy screen. “It’s essential to understand how to move through various spaces with more challenging hems and trains.”

Rafael saw it then. The room had been set up as an obstacle course. Some tables were pressed close together, while others had objects perched dangerously close to the edge.

Felicity’s brow wrinkled as she took in Lydia’s meaning, but then she clapped her hands gamely. “Let’s do it.”

Lydia gave her the faintest frown. “A little loud, dear.”

“Right,” said Felicity, then made a hasty departure behind the privacy screen. “Lydia, what’s the worst crowd situation you’ve ever had to navigate?”

Lydia shook her head with a wry smile. “Without a doubt, it was one situation that involved King Rafael.” He was instantly on alert, but there was no possible way he would interrupt her. “Of course, he wasn’t the king, then.”

Felicity came out from behind the privacy screen wearing a stunning jewel-toned dress with an impossibly long train. She dragged it out behind her, then studied the layout of the room. “Should I—”

“Through the tables, dear, to Rafael. Then we can discuss how to maneuver the dress when standing with others. The challenge of the event was that it was a dance for the middle grades in Rafael’s private school.”

Rafael had to stifle a groan.

“I was there in a sort of chaperone capacity,” said Lydia, laughing a little at the memory. “Of course, I always dressed formally for events involving the royal family. I didn’t anticipate having to wade through so many preteen boys in my formalwear. They were—”

“Must we describe it?” cut in Rafael. He tried to be good-natured. He really did. But school had been difficult enough without being a prince. Part of him was impressed at how easily Felicity had been able to get Lydia to open up, but more of him wanted this trip down memory lane to stop.

“They were wild,” continued Lydia. “One of the young men was swinging his arms—” She imitated the movement, and Felicity laughed. “None of them cared a whit about the protocol, and I found myself having to step in.” By this point, Felicity wasn’t even pretending to move through the tables in the gown. She was standing still, her hands to her mouth, laughing at Rafael. “He—”

“Enough.” Rafael’s voice came out more sharply than he’d anticipated, and both women turned to him, eyes wide. He struggled to temper his embarrassment. With Lydia speaking about that time in his life, it was like he was right back there, and he hated it. He took in a deep breath and let it out as slowly as he could. “Let’s move on.”

She inclined her head gracefully. “Of course, King Rafael.” Guilt flared and died. He would, no doubt, receive a written note of apology from her within the day. Then he’d need to send back his own note to apologize for being so brusque.

Lydia did not seem to be bothered in the least.

She took Felicity through her paces, setting up course after course of tables and chairs.

“When you sit, be sure to sweep the train of the gown under you so that it doesn’t bunch,” said Lydia, nearly thirty minutes later. “And

when you rise, look down for a moment before you do.” Then it was up and down, up and down, until Felicity’s face was pink with the effort of managing the gown. On the last run-through, she tripped on the hem and nearly toppled over.

“I believe that’s all for the day,” Lydia said, watching Felicity. “Next time, we’ll work on table manners.”

“Table manners?” Felicity’s eyebrows rose.

“Of course. You’ll be photographed at many of the royal events.” Lydia laughed, reaching out to put a hand on Felicity’s elbow. “Not the basics, dear. Table manners for royalty.” Lydia turned and dipped a small curtsy to Rafael. “Your Highness.” He nodded back to her, and she swept from the room.

Felicity made to follow Lydia out of the room. “Wait, Felicity.”