Conveniently Wed to the Prince

Don’t show emotion. Maintain a poker face.

But there was little point in faking either. He knew that many people believed the worst of his mother—thought her departure from Lycander had been an abandonment of her son and saw her through the tainted veil of rigged history—and he loathed it. This was a chance to vindicate her memory and he’d take it.

‘Deal. But only if Frederick is on the level.’ If his brother was simply a ‘mini-me’ of Alphonse, there was no way Stefan would play nice. ‘I’ll need to judge that.’

‘Understood. The bride I have in mind is Lady Mary Fairweather. The licence is sorted and the helicopter is ready to go. You can be in Lycander in two hours.’

Stefan rose. ‘Not so fast. I’ve already got a fiancée. I’m marrying Holly Romano.’

It gave him some satisfaction to see the surprise on Marcus’s face.

Before he could react, Stefan finished, ‘We’ll talk again tomorrow.’

CHAPTER SIX

STEFAN RUBBED A hand over his face and tried to tell himself that two hours’ sleep was sufficient. He pushed open the door to the living area of the hotel suite and came to a halt on the threshold. Holly stood by the window, her blonde hair tousled and shower damp, clad simply in jeans and a thick cable knit navy jumper, bare feet peeping out.

Desire tugged in his gut even as he recognised the supreme irony of the situation. This was his fiancée and she was completely off-limits. There could be no repeat of that kiss, no more allowing their attraction to haze and shimmer the air between them. For a start Holly did not share his relationship values, and secondly they now had a deal—one in which the stakes were now even higher.

For him it wasn’t only Il Boschetto di Sole to be won. He could have all that Alphonse had taken from him in a deal that did not leave him beholden. And, even more importantly, he could win public recognition for his mother; set the rumours and falsehoods to rest once and for all.

But to do that he and Holly would have to play their marriage out in the public eye—something he needed to know she was on board with. It also meant they could not risk any complications, and giving in to their attraction would rate way up there on the ‘complicated’ scoreboard.

‘Good morning.’

She turned from the window, her eyes full of caution. ‘Good morning.’ She gestured outside. ‘Look at all those people out there...going about their normal business whilst my world has been upended.’

He moved closer, tried to block out the tantalising scent of freshly washed hair, the tang of citrus and an underlying scent that urged him to pull her into his arms and to hell with the consequences. But life didn’t work like that. Actions had consequences, and once you’d acted you couldn’t take that act back. Lord knew, he knew that.

So instead he stood beside her, careful not to touch, and looked outside at the scurrying figures. ‘You’ll find that a lot of those people will be experiencing their own upheavals and worries. But I agree—yesterday was a humdinger of a life-changer. But it is only temporary. One year and then you can have your life back. And half of Il Boschetto di Sole.’

One year. Three hundred and sixty-five days. Fifty-two weeks. God knew how many hours.

‘And life doesn’t have to change that much,’ she added hopefully. ‘I’ve thought about it. I know we have to live under the same roof, but if we can find a big enough roof we don’t have to actually see each other much. We could even get somewhere with separate kitchens, or work out a rota or...’

‘I get it—and I appreciate the amount of thought you’ve put into it.’ Obscurely, a frisson of hurt touched him, even though he knew he should applaud her plan. It wasn’t as if he wanted to act out happy coupledom. ‘That sounds good, but before we settle down to wedded bliss there’s the actual wedding to think about.’

‘Yes. But that’s not so complicated, is it? We’ll give twenty-eight days’ notice and then we can do a quick register office ceremony. Simple.’

‘It’s a little more complex than that.’

Go easy here. Clearly Holly’s ideas for the wedding were a long way from the public spectacle now on the cards.

Suspicion narrowed her eyes. ‘Complex how?’

‘How about we discuss this over breakfast? And coffee?’

Coward.

‘Fine.’ Her forehead creased. ‘Though I have the distinct impression that you hope food and drink will soften me up.’

‘Busted.’

She sighed. ‘Dinner does feel like a lifetime ago, and I am hungry. But do you mind if we go someplace else? Perhaps we could grab a takeaway coffee and walk for a while? I’d appreciate a chance to clear my head.’

‘Works for me.’ A chance to move, to expend some energy—perhaps the fresh air would blow away the cobwebs of intrigue. ‘Any preference as to where?’

‘I thought we could go to the Chelsea Physic Garden,’ she suggested. ‘It’s not far from here. Every Sunday since I’ve got here I’ve explored somewhere in London. To begin with I did all the usual tourist places—you know, Big Ben and St Paul’s Cathedral, which is awe-inspiring. I went to watch the Changing of the Guards too.’