The Prince She Never Forgot

This morning had been so strange.

The thing that she’d secretly dreamed about for such a long time had finally come true. Waking up in Alex’s arms had been fantastic.

Stealing along the corridor with her dress clutched around her hadn’t been quite so fantastic. But she hadn’t been sure if any of the staff—in particular Rufus—might routinely go into Alex’s room to wake him.

There was still so much about the palace protocols she had to learn. And last night she hadn’t thought to ask Alex about any of these things—there had been far too many other sensations occupying her mind.

It had seemed so much easier to duck out and get back to her room to shower and dress. But once she’d got ready her stomach had begun churning again.

On one hand she’d wanted to go back to Alex’s room. On the other she’d wanted to give him a little space. And yet they had to talk about what would happen next. About Annabelle. About Sophia’s parents. All the things they hadn’t really focused on last night when they’d been in each other’s arms.

She loved him. She was sure of it. She just hadn’t told him yet.

Maybe tonight they would be able to re-enact the whole thing. Maybe she could tell him then. But the truth was as soon as Alex had started kissing her everything else had gone out of the window except the feel of his body pressed against hers. The touch of his fingers on her skin. The sensation of his lips on her neck...

The newspapers outside one of the nearby shops fluttered in the wind. Something caught her attention. It was the colour on the front page. The exact colour of one of the dresses in her wardrobe back at the palace.

Her feet were drawn automatically. Her hand was pushing back the fluttering pages.

Princess Ruby?

The words leapt out at her and she jumped backwards on the pavement. No. It couldn’t say that. Her heart was pounding in her chest. What on earth...?

She stepped forward again. Pushing the front page back and scanning the page. It was totally in French. She couldn’t understand what was written at all.

But she really didn’t need to understand. The picture said it all.

It must have been taken a few months before—just after she’d arrived. She and Alex were sitting at the café and her bright pink dress was fluttering around her—just as the newspaper pages were doing today.

But it was the moment that the picture had captured. That second when Alex had leaned forward and cradled her cheek. He was looking at her as though she was the only person in the world and she was looking at him exactly the same way.

That moment had literally been the blink of an eye. A tiny, private fragment of two lives captured for eternity for the world.

And it had changed everything.

It was printed alongside a picture from the ball. Ruby in her long red dress with diamonds glittering in her ears.

Some eagle-eyed journalist had found and printed a picture of Alex’s mother wearing the same earrings years earlier.

She couldn’t understand any of the words that were written. But she could understand the panic clamouring in her chest.

No. Just when things between her and Alex seemed to be heading in a perfect direction.

What was happening between them was private. It wasn’t for the world’s consumption. She felt indignant. She felt angry. She felt stupid.

Alex was a prince—at some point would be King.

This would always be the life of whoever he showed interest in. She was a fool to think otherwise. And this was exactly what he’d tried to warn her about.

She leaned back against the newspaper rack, breathing heavily. She was seeing tiny stars in her peripheral vision. People were staring at her and whispering. Her phone started to ring and she grappled with her bag to pull it out.

It was a number she didn’t recognise. ‘Hello?’

‘Ruby Wetherspoon? This is Frank Barnes from Celebrity News. We’d like to interview you.’

‘How did you get this number? This is a private number.’

‘We’d like to know about your relationship with the Prince Regent and the recent photos that have been taken of the two of you together. We understand that you’re working together. But it looks a whole lot more personal than that. Would you like to do an exclusive with us?’

Every word sent a chill down her body. For a few seconds she couldn’t even speak. Then, ‘No. Don’t phone again.’

She disconnected the call and looked around her. Alex. She had to talk to Alex.

Her phone started to ring again. Another unknown number. She pressed the button at the top, switching the whole thing off.

She put her head down and her legs on automatic pilot, walking back to the palace. She resisted the temptation to break into a run.

The warm sun was usually pleasant, but her face felt flushed and she could feel the sweat running down her back. The usually enticing smells from the delicatessen, the baker and chocolatier made her stomach flip over.

All she wanted to do was talk to someone—talk to Alex. Talk to Polly. Talk to anyone—anyone but a journalist.

Her legs were burning. The warm air didn’t seem to be fully filling her lungs. There it was in the distance—the pink palace. She reached the gates and crossed the gardens quickly. The driveway had never seemed so long.

When she finally reached the palace entrance the doorman barely glanced at her. Was that a sign of something?

As she stepped into the hallway she was aware of the absolute silence. Usually there was always noise from somewhere—talking servants, discussions between visitors, footsteps from people going about their daily business.

Today the whole palace seemed silent.

She turned on her heel and headed for the library. If she’d had an ounce of common sense about her she would have purchased one of those newspapers. Instead she was reduced to doing an internet search.

The amount of hits made her cringe. How many?

Her eyes widened as she read, and tears formed in her eyes as a horrible feeling of dread crept over her skin.

Pictures really did speak a thousand words.

If Alex had any doubt about how she felt about him, once he’d glanced at these pictures he—and the world—would know for sure.

If she was an ordinary gir

l, in an ordinary world, this might seem quite nice. The looks and glances in the pictures were reciprocal. She wasn’t just fawning over him. Their gazes were locked together—as if, for that second, they were the only two people on the planet.

Little moments, captured in time.

Tears started to roll down her cheeks. She’d tried to be so careful. She’d tried to be guarded. She didn’t want the whole world to know that she’d loved Alex de Castellane for the last ten years. It had taken her long enough to admit that to herself.

Things were good between them right now. Things were great. Annabelle was showing real signs of improvement. And Alex...

He was showing real signs of moving on. Really moving on.

Last night had been wonderful.

She clicked on another link. This time it was a red-top newspaper from England. It carried the same photographs as the others. But the text took her breath away.

Vitriol. Libel.

Ruby Wetherspoon had been plotting to get her hands on Alex de Castellane for years. She’d come to Euronia purely with the purpose of trapping the world’s most eligible bachelor into marriage. She was a devious woman with money on her mind.

No mention of Annabelle. No mention of her job.

She clicked on the next link. An exclusive from Maria Cochette, telling of how Ruby Wetherspoon had laughed at the way she’d tricked Alex into giving her his mother’s diamond earrings and said it was only a matter of time before she got a whole lot more. Apparently Maria had known right from the start what kind of woman she was—and Alex was still heartbroken after the death of his wife...he was vulnerable.

Ruby retched. Any minute now she was going to be sick.

This was all her own fault. She should never have crossed Maria Cochette last night. Of course someone like her would have newspaper contacts. The truth was Ruby had no idea how to handle people like that. She was unprepared for what she was up against—and it showed. She just wasn’t equipped to be part of this world.