Marion Lennox - Princess Of Convenience

‘Hell, Jess…’

‘I know. It’s none of my business.’ She released his hand from hers-almost reluctantly-and faced him square on. She was going nowhere probing further, and she had no right. ‘Raoul, I wish you all the best,’ she told him. ‘I’m really sorry for your troubles, but…it’s time I got back to my life and butted out of yours. Thank you for tonight. Thank you for my time out. But I’m going to bed now and I’ll leave at first light.’

‘Your car’s not ready.’

‘I’ll hire one in the town,’ she told him, and smiled. ‘You needn’t worry. One thing about being successful is that I’m not short of money.’ She hesitated. She shouldn’t ask more but she really wanted to know. ‘And you…you’ll go back to Paris?’

‘For a while,’ he told her. ‘Until my mother’s settled. I’ll try and organise access for her to Edouard. But after that, I’ll go back to Africa.’

‘Africa?’ She sounded astounded. Maybe because she was astounded. ‘What are you doing in Africa?’

‘I’m a doctor with Médecins Sans Frontières,’ he told her. ‘I’ve been working in Somalia for the past three years.’

‘You’re kidding me.’

‘Why should I kid you?’

No reason. No reason at all. Except it required just a bit of readjusting.

‘So you’d given up your medicine,’ she said slowly, ‘to be a prince.’

‘If you think I wanted to…’ There was a sudden surge of anger, bitten back fast. He hesitated, striving for a reasonable answer to a question he clearly thought was unreasonable. Or a demand on him he clearly thought was unreasonable.

‘Jess, this country has been known as one of the most corrupt places in Europe,’ he told her, his voice calm again. Logical. But still she could hear the suppressed anger behind the words. ‘When Jean-Paul died I had a visit from no less than three heads of state of neighbouring countries. The ordinary citizens here have been bled dry. They’ve been taxed to the hilt and given nothing in return, so much so that there’s the threat of real revolt. The country has become a hotbed of illicit activity with corruption undermining neighbouring stability as well as ours. Change has to occur and it can only change through the constitution-through the ruling prince or regent. And Marcel is appalling. Which was why I was persuaded to marry Sarah and try and do some good. The idea was that I’d come, I’d accept the guardianship of my nephew and leave him with my mother, I’d set in place the changes that have to happen if this country’s citizens are not to be exploited-and then I’d leave again.’

‘Why?’

‘You don’t think I want to be a prince?’

‘Most people would jump at the chance.’

‘I’m not most people,’ he said grimly. ‘Who was it said that power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely? I watched my father and my brother and I want no part of it.’

‘Médecins Sans Frontières is hardly a life career,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘Doctors Without Borders… They go to the most desperately needy places in the world. I’ve heard that most people burn out after one or two years. You’ve been doing it for three?’

‘It’s not long enough. I’m hardly burned out.’

‘Maybe you could stay here and work on the Alp’Azuri medical infrastructure,’ she said, and for a fraction of a moment she let her guard slip. ‘It’s hardly on a par with most western countries. In truth, it’s appalling.’

And he got it. He heard the pain of someone speaking from personal experience. She saw the recognition in his eyes. Recognition of tragedy.

‘There is that about you,’ he said softly, on a note of discovery. ‘You’re running.’

‘I am not running,’ she snapped, angry with herself for revealing more than she wanted. ‘Any more than you, practising medicine in Somalia when your people need you here.’

‘This is not my country. These are not my people.’

‘No?’

She took a deep breath. What was she doing? she thought suddenly. What drove this man was nothing to do with her.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said at last while he stared at her with anger showing clearly on his face. ‘OK. This is not your country and you’ll be leaving it almost immediately.’ She hesitated, trying to find some safer ground. Her perceptions were swinging wildly. This man was a prince. This man was a doctor who fought for lives in third-world countries.

He’d make a wonderful doctor, she thought suddenly and glanced down at his hands. Big, caring, skilled…

Move on, she told herself fiercely. Once again there was that twisting inside that she scarcely understood. She had to find some safe ground.

‘And your mother?’ she managed. ‘What will she do?’

He smiled, albeit faintly. ‘My mother has an apartment on the Left Bank. And before you accuse me of deserting her as well as my country, she has Henri.’ He saw her look of surprise and explained. ‘Henri left the palace when my mother left my father thirty years ago. He’s been with my mother ever since, her loyal and devoted servant. Where she goes, Henri goes.’

So all questions were answered. Sort of.

That only left the child, Jess thought. Edouard? Somewhere in this palace there was a three-year-old, a child Jess had never seen.

That was hardly safe ground. She didn’t want to see a needful three-year-old, or think about him, or know anything more than she knew already. He was a shadow of trouble and she had no room to cope in her heart with a three-year-old’s trouble.

Her heart was devoid of children. Blank. And that was the way it had to stay. Anything else was the way of madness.

Move on.

‘Um… Goodnight, then,’ she told him, hurriedly, before any other complications could occur.

‘Goodnight?’ He seemed surprised and maybe that was reasonable. She’d gone straight from inquisition mode to running away.

‘Goodnight. Thank you. I’m sorry for your troubles and I’ll stop adding to them.’

‘You’re not adding to anything.’

‘Nevertheless I’m leaving. I must.’

She meant to turn away. She meant to turn straight away. But he was watching her and his eyes were suddenly confused. As confused as hers were?

Maybe.

She needed to go.

But still his eyes held hers.

And then, suddenly, she knew what she had to do. It suddenly seemed the right thing to do, the only thing to do.

She stood on tiptoe and kissed him.

Lightly. Fleetingly.

Why? She hardly knew. It just seemed…appropriate.

It was appropriate.

And more.

The touch of him… It felt right, she thought wonderingly. Kissing this man. Touching this man. Standing in this vast kitchen with the smell of toast and the lingering aroma of burned steak and potatoes… Domesticity was all around them and it made kissing possible. Reasonable. This was a fairy-tale setting, but the toast and the marmalade made it real.

The kiss was real. Because he was real. Raoul was a prince of royal blood but he was a man alone. He was a doctor working where only the bravest went, a man whose country was being destroyed by corruption, an uncle watching his nephew being torn from him. He was a man coping with problems she couldn’t bear to think about.

She couldn’t help.

‘I wish you all the best,’ she whispered.

He didn’t move. There was a long, drawn-out silence. Too long.

‘You’ll say goodbye to my mother before you leave?’ he asked-heavily-and she nodded.

His hand moved then, his fingers lifting to touch the place on his face where she’d kissed him. It was as though he didn’t quite understand what the sensation was.

‘Of course I will,’ she told him, trying not to watch his fingers. ‘I know which her apartments are. I’ll say goodbye before I leave in the morning. Thank you, Raoul. For everything.’

She turned to go. And paused.

There was a woman in the doorway.

She was in her late thirties or early forties, Jess thought. She was tall and severely dressed in a nurse’s uniform. Her mousy brown hair was hauled severely back into a bun. She stood heavily in the doorway, surveying the couple before her with what seemed dislike.

This wasn’t one of the nurses who’d tended her, Jess thought. She hadn’t seen this woman before.

But Raoul obviously recognised her. ‘Cosette,’ he said, sounding surprised. ‘How can I help?’

The woman’s eyes flicked from Raoul to Jess and back again. Wary. ‘I came to tell you I’m leaving,’ she told him.

Raoul stilled.

‘You’re leaving? Now?’

The woman gestured to a cell-phone on her belt. ‘The viscount has rung,’ she told him. ‘He says the whole palace is under his control as of Monday. Including the child. And he’s furious. He said you insulted him tonight and he wants everyone out now. All the servants are to leave. If we don’t get out now, then we won’t have a job on Monday. He’s rung everyone. You don’t have a staff, Your Highness. I’m sorry.’

And she turned and walked out the back door, leaving them staring after her.

‘HELL.’

Raoul stood, staring after her as if he’d been struck.

‘Um…is this a problem?’ Jess asked reluctantly. She wasn’t sure whether she wanted to be sucked into this-no, she was sure she didn’t want to be sucked into this-but the expression on Raoul’s face made it impossible for her to walk away.

‘Hell,’ he murmured again. ‘Edouard.’

She had to ask it, although she already knew who they were talking about. The child she’d so carefully avoided thinking of. ‘Edouard being your nephew. He’s here in the palace?’

‘He’s here. Cosette has been looking after him.’

She hesitated. ‘I thought you said your mother wanted to care for him.’

‘My mother…can’t. He won’t let her. He…’ He paused and raked his fingers through his thatch of thick black curls. Despairing. ‘You don’t understand.’