She was also dressing for Rafael and he might.
Which was a nonsense, she told herself, suddenly angry. She wasn’t dressing for Rafael. She’d never dress for a de Boutaine again. She wanted nothing to do with the family.
But her son was a de Boutaine. How could she swear never to have anything to do with a royal family headed by her son?
It was too hard. It made her head spin. She picked up the little cane basket she carried instead of a purse and opened the door to the kitchen.
They were washing dishes. Rafael was washing, Matty was wiping. Rafael had his sleeves rolled up. He’d used too much soap and suds were oozing out of the porcelain bowl and on to the wooden bench. Matty was manfully trying to wipe suds off plates. He had suds on his nose.
There it was again. The combination of de Boutaine sexiness that made her want to gasp.
She swallowed it firmly, but both guys had turned to her and were looking at her in frank admiration.
‘Wow,’ said Matty.
‘Wow,’ Rafael repeated and she felt herself blushing.
‘I…it’s what we all have to wear.’
‘My mama’s pretty,’ Matty said, satisfied. ‘Isn’t she, Uncle Rafael?’
‘She certainly is,’ Rafael agreed. ‘Modern men don’t know what they’re missing.’
‘It certainly covers me,’ she said, struggling for lightness. ‘There could be absolutely anything under these hoops.’
‘Hoops,’ Matty said. He walked forward, fascinated, and gave one of her hoops a tentative poke.
Her skirt swayed out behind her.
‘It’s like a little tent,’ Matty said. ‘Mama could have really, really fat legs. Or she could be hiding something. A little dog.’
It was said with a certain amount of hope and for a dumb moment Kelly wished she had a dog.
A dog under her skirt. Right.
‘There’s nothing your mama needs to hide,’ Rafael said, turning his back to the suds, eyeing them with a degree of bewilderment and then sternly turning back to her. ‘Let’s go play on the goldfields.’
‘You haven’t finished washing up.’
‘My suds seem to be taking over the world,’ he said. ‘I just shook the little holder with the washing up liquid in and suds went everywhere. I think we should go out and shut the door and lock it after us. And hope like crazy the suds don’t follow us down the mineshafts.’
They loved it.
Kelly could do the guide thing on autopilot. She walked them through the little town, down to the creek where tourists were panning for gold. She showed the boys how to use the tin pans and then sat on a log and watched them.
The park was quiet. The flu epidemic had hit the whole state. It was autumn. Nearly all the staff had been laid low early and were now returning to work. With the worst of the sickness past, they’d be almost overmanned for the rest of the season. So she could afford to take this day. To simply watch as Matty and Rafael explored.
They were so alike.
Rafael wasn’t even Matty’s uncle, she reminded herself. Rafael had been Kass’s cousin. That made him—what—second cousin to Matty?
But Matty loved him. He trusted him absolutely. Their two heads were bowed over the pan, searching for specks of gold, and she thought that Rafael could easily be his father.
What sort of man was he? The Prince Regent of Alp de Ciel.
It didn’t matter.
It did matter, for there was a burning question hanging over her head. Where did she go from here?
She’d been handed back her son, but Matty was his own little person. He had allegiances. There were people he loved, and those people didn’t include her.
Rafael had said it was her decision to make.
She’d keep him here. She watched as he found a tiny speck of gold in his pan and held it on his thumb, admiring. He could live with her here. She’d take care of him. He could have a wonderful life, living on the diggings. Lots of staff had their kids here—he’d be part of the kid-pack who wore period clothes and treated the park as their personal playground. He’d go to school here. She’d keep him…
Hidden?
It was on the tip of her tongue, the edge of her thoughts. That was what she’d been doing, she thought. For the last five years she’d been hiding. She was hiding still, behind her hoops and her bonnet and her period self.
The Kelly who’d looked up to see Prince Kass gazing down at her, the Kelly who’d ridden out with Kass at dawn, who’d launched herself into life six years back, had been locked firmly away.
Yes, she was hiding. She was still in there somewhere, the Kelly who craved excitement and adventure and…romance? But she was very firmly hidden and there was no way the sensible Kelly would ever let her emerge again.
Pete was walking down the hill towards them. Trouble. She knew the security guard well and the expression on his face had Kelly standing up, moving automatically between Pete and the two gold-panners.
Between the outside world and her son.
‘What’s wrong?’ she called before he reached her, and Rafael looked up from gold-panning, handed the pan over to Matty and came to join her.
‘There’s media at the gate,’ Pete said harshly. ‘They’re asking Diane where to find someone called the Prince Regent of some country or other. Diane told them she’s never heard of anyone like that but they described—’ he hesitated as Rafael reached them ‘—they described you, sir.’
‘Damn,’ Rafael said, but he said it wearily as if he’d expected it.
‘We’ll go back to the cottage,’ Kelly said, uncertain, but he shook his head.
‘They’d find us there. We’ll be forced to stay inside while they camp and wait for us to come out. It’ll just delay the inevitable.’
‘I can see them off,’ Pete said. ‘Begging your pardon, but… are you a prince?’
‘For my sins, yes,’ Rafael said ruefully. ‘And this is a public theme park. They can demand admission. I’ll have to head them off. Kelly, can you blend into the tourist scene with Matty?’
‘I…sure. Are they looking for me?’ She sounded scared. She knew it but there wasn’t anything she could do about it. Five years ago she’d been hunted as the press had searched the world for her. She’d been turned into the wicked princess, reviled by all.
To have photographers here now…
‘Not yet,’ Rafael said. ‘At least I hope not. I hope it’s just that they’ve tracked me down. They’ll assume Matty’s at home in Alp de Ciel.’
‘What have you told them? Do they know you’re letting me have access to Matty?’
‘I’ve told them nothing,’ he said, looking grim. ‘But it’s not going to last.’
‘What’s going on?’ Pete demanded, bewildered.
‘It’s private,’ Kelly said urgently, but she knew Pete’s brain was forming questions more quickly than his mouth could ask them.
‘They’ll find us soon,’