The Royal and the Rebel (Royally Pitched 2)

4

24 February

Xavier Hall

Xavier Hall rose up from the valley like an optical illusion. As the Range Rover sped along the miles-long driveway, Juliana’s attention was riveted to the sprawling manor steadily taking shape. Perched on top of a raised peninsula, a cliff provided the backdrop, crashing waves the soundtrack. To make up for the dramatic backyard, the rolling hills of the plateau in front of it offered a gentle welcome to its visitors.

Everything about the structure was grand. Three spired towers rose from outstretched corners; their gold crosses reaching toward the sky. The winter sun hit an angle and cast a glow from above. The seventy-room estate spanned four stories and appeared to spread out the length of several football pitches. An austere, large wooden door with a heavy iron knocker did not welcome. But the arched windows, decorated with jaunty wreaths, softened the appearance and beckoned. Parts of the house dated back to the sixteenth century, the gray stone facade holding secrets and subterfuges of the past.

She had been born in royal residence and grown up in a castle, and yet neither of those places seemed to hold the splendor of the estate in front of her. For some reason, it bothered her, like the property was trying too hard.

When her car stopped, Juliana gathered her coat. The door opened, and she stepped out, quickly shoving her arms into the sleeves of her jacket and bending to get her bag. A young woman waited for her in the covered entryway. The cut of her clothes and the style of her hair suggested efficiency. Juliana imagined not one speck of dust or misaligned furniture escaped the women’s eagle eye. That sharp gaze zeroed in on Juliana as she made her way up the steps leading to the house. Although they were both aware of Juliana’s station in life, she knew she was being picked apart and judged. By the time she ascended the stairs, she was wishing she’d worn her tiara.

“Your Highness,” the girl clipped. “Welcome to Xavier Hall.”

Juliana gave a slight nod of acknowledgment but continued walking to the open doorway. The warmth called to her, and she strolled right into the massive foyer. Again, she had the feeling that nothing she had seen before was as grand as this place. It was a Disney castle in a fairytale—timeless and magical. Tempted to spin around and take it all in, she settled on a cursory glance at the golden domed ceiling, the intricate crown molding, the sprawling staircases curling around both sides of the foyer before it intersected in the middle.

Part of her hoped she might be able to stroll through the halls leisurely, like a patron in a museum, with a self-guided audio tour that could run any length of time. She felt as though she could place her hand on one of the stone walls and absorb the drama that had played out in the hundred years’ history of the place.

“Lord Barrington regrets he is unable to be here to greet you. I’m Sylvia. While you are here, I am at your disposal.”

Juliana hadn’t expected a red-carpet entrance, but she was unsettled by the complete lack of fanfare. Didn’t these people know one of the members of the royal family was arriving?

Sylvia prattled on. “We have a full slate of activities scheduled during your stay. Of course, if there is anything you want to do or anything you need, all you must do is let me know. We have several guests staying with us. Tea will be served in an hour in the Green Drawing Room. Dinner is scheduled for eight this evening in the Alford Dining Room.”

The woman droned on and on, but Juliana tuned her out. She knew the itinerary, and she was ready. Now, she wanted to look around.

“Can you direct me to my room?” Jules asked when Sylvia paused to take a breath.

Sylvia’s hand touched the bottom of her throat, as if she were surprised to find someone didn’t want to listen to her. “Yes, right this way.”

They ascended the staircase on the left, following the gentle contour as it slid around the wall. At the top of the stairs, they started down an endless hallway. Juliana almost wished for breadcrumbs to mark her trail.

After a few turns, Sylvia opened a set of double doors to a pretty lavender sitting room. “These outer doors lock, but there is room down this hallway for your personal protection officer. I believe he has already arrived with your luggage.”

Juliana nodded. Noah was her advance team. Whereas Ele traveled with a large security detail, Jules only utilized Noah. He was both her personal assistant and bodyguard.

Born in Iceland, he resembled a Viking with striking blond hair and piercing blue eyes. They’d met in New York when Juliana’s personal protection officer at the time, Anton, was sidelined by chicken pox. Noah had been called in to substitute, but he and Jules worked well together, and she insisted he take over. They weren’t close like Robert and Ele, but they understood each other.

Eager to get away from Ms. Efficient, Jules ushered her to the door. “Thank you.”

“I haven’t shown you the rest of the suite,” Sylvia complained, obviously annoyed at Jules’s dismissal.

But with a hand guiding Sylvia, Jules gently nudged her over the threshold.

With a quick flash of teeth that approximated a smile, Jules closed the doors. She turned and leaned back against them. When she heard an indignant little huff from outside, she smiled for real.

She stood and walked through the sitting area to the bedroom. The space was every bit as ornate as everything else in the house. Juliana made her way to the huge windows and peered out into the crisp afternoon sunshine. On the horizon, two horses galloped over the winter landscape. Not far from her post, she could see the gardens just beginning to awaken from the winter slumber, and beyond it was an elaborate hedge maze. From her vantage point, she could make out the intricate design and see the path to the center, where a beautiful fountain shot plumes of colored water in the air.

She knew if she were within it though, paths would look the same, and confusion would come easily. Getting lost and not being able to find her way out would be a real possibility. She hoped it wasn’t a metaphor for her trip here to Nava.

Juliana sipped tea from a delicate cup embellished with tiny roses and rimmed in gold. Dainty cucumber sandwiches, left over from their British predecessors; a variety of olives from the Spanish; and a smorgasbord of cheeses were displayed artfully throughout the room. As were the women here for the next two weeks. They were their own charcuterie board—chosen for their tasteful pedigree, presented for maximum appeal. Like any soiree attendee, Juliana took her time sampling all the offerings.

Lacy Ambroise was of the French nobility and could trace her family back to the twelfth century. Juliana felt like an Amazon next to the petite blonde.

“You are more beautiful in person than on the magazine covers,” Lacy said suddenly, the lift of her accent melodic to Juliana’s ear, even as her skin flushed pink. Lacy covered her face with her hands. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” she whispered through her fingers.

Juliana reached over, tugging on Lacy’s wrist. When Lacy glanced up, Juliana smiled. “Thank you.”

In that moment, with Lacy’s cheeks flaming and her uneasy gaze directed at her, Juliana was reminded of Ele, and she immediately felt an affinity for the woman.

“I should be better at social norms and proper interactions, but I’m not. These next couple of weeks are looming in front of me like I’ve been sentenced to two weeks in hell.”

Juliana laughed. “I get it. But aside from the wife-vetting, the parties will be fabulous.”

Lacy shrugged. “My idea of a big night is curling up with a glass of wine and a book.”

“You’ll be able to do that too.”

A cackle and giggles sounded from the other side of the room, where Tatiana Kuznetzova and Bela Rodriguez-Lias stood, huddled over a phone. Where Lacy was reserved dignity, Tatiana was obnoxious display, and Bela was chameleon.

In the thirty minutes Juliana had milled around the room, she’d drawn conclusions. As Tatiana and Bela gushed over each other, trying at once to draw attention and appear exclusive, Lacy attempted to earn her position as resident wallflower. This scenario wasn’t exactly what Juliana had signed up for, but she couldn’t deny the excitement of being here.

Sylvia appeared at the entrance, and Juliana knew the main event was imminent. The Barrington family filed into the room, and Juliana had to admit that they were striking with their golden looks.

The Duke of Waverly was an attractive older man. Still trim, probably from all the time he spent riding horses, he carried the lines and weathering of someone who spent time outside. With his official duties, his list of hobbies was impressive. A working man who had mastered the art of leisure.

The girl with him must have been his teenage daughter, Violet. She was petite in stature, but her thin frame made her look younger than her fifteen years. Her pretty face was dominated by huge, doe brown eyes. Her dress was edgy, and when Violet’s eyes met hers, Juliana sensed a kindred spirit.

Then, she turned her gaze to Frederik Barrington. She was surprised when her stomach fluttered with a jolt of attraction. He was handsome in a wholesome way—military-short blond hair, full lips, the same deep brown eyes as his sister. He was fairly tall and ripped. She could see the muscles of his arms through the cut of his jacket. He’d just finished his six-year stint as a military pilot, and her mind quickly flashed to a picture of him in his jumpsuit. Warmth bloomed in her belly.

Juliana was never whimsical, and she was never reckless. Although she portrayed herself as a frivolous royal without a care in the world, she’d cultivated that persona specifically to shield Ele from everything. In her travels, she was conspicuously careful. She’d been surrounded by many handsome men, known a handful of truly beautiful guys, but she’d only ever reacted to one man in a way that left her breathless and shaky. So, to feel anything for Frederik Barrington, to have any reaction, was not what she had expected.

It was almost automatic for her to conjure an image of Rowan Beckwith. Of course, she would think of him, even as she couldn’t figure out what about him so enthralled her. He was a short-tempered, judgmental, grumpy asshole who thought she was a frivolous, spoiled girl. She’d been in his presence four times. At the national training grounds, where he barely acknowledged her; the press conference, when she kissed him; his hotel room as she apologized; and the gala, where he tried to protect her.

And yet, as she got her first look at Frederik Barrington, as her body reacted with an unfamiliar heat, her thoughts turned to Rowan. Her mouth remembered the taste of him. It was stupid to even think about him. She was a primary-school girl with a crush on a university student.

Sylvia said, “Ladies, this is—”

The duke stopped her. “There’s no reason for formalities today.” He ushered his children to Juliana. He bowed slightly. “Your Highness. It’s so wonderful to see you here. The last time I saw you, you were swaddled in a blanket, tucked into your father’s arms.” He smiled at her fondly, and Juliana was reminded of Waverly’s friendship with her father.

Juliana nodded to Waverly. “Thank you for the invitation. I am looking forward to celebrating with all of you.” She smiled at the duke before she acknowledged Frederik. “My lord,” she said.

Their eyes met, but his glance was impersonal. Juliana was used to people taking their time to look at her. But his glance was cursory.

Juliana turned to Violet. “You must be Violet. I’m honored to meet you.”

Whereas Frederik spared her but a glance, Violet studied her. Her soulful eyes were warm, and Juliana immediately felt comfortable with her.

“It’s my pleasure,” Violet said with a smile.

“We look forward to dinner this evening,” the duke said with another bow.

“Yes,” Juliana responded, happy to be done with tea.

Frederik and Waverly moved on, but Violet waited a beat.

“After dinner, maybe we can talk.”

Jules was intrigued. “I’m at your disposal.”

Violet nodded. “I need a favor.”