Several years earlier, Dottie had seen pictures of the Constantinides brothers on various television news broadcasts. Both had playboy reputations, like so many royal sons. They’d been dark and attractive enough, but seen in the inside of a limo or aboard a royal yacht, it was difficult to get a real sense of their looks.
Dottie had never been anywhere near a royal and knew nothing about their world except for their exposure in the media, which didn’t always reflect positively. But for an accident of birth, she could have been born a princess. Anyone could be. Royals were human beings after all. They entered the world, ate, slept, married and died like the rest of humanity. It was what they did, where they did it and how they did it that separated them from the masses.
Raised by a single aunt, now deceased, who’d never married and had been a practical thinker, Dottie’s world hadn’t included many fairy tales. Though there’d been moments growing up when Dottie had been curious about being a queen or a princess. Now an unprecedented opportunity had arisen for her to find out what that was like.
Dottie had seen and heard enough about royals involved in escapades and scandals to feel sorry for them. The trials of being an open target to the world had to be worse than those of a celebrity, whose popularity waxed strong for a time in the eyes of public adulation and curiosity, then waned out of sight.
A royal stayed a royal forever and was scrutinized ad nauseum. A prince or princess couldn’t even be born or die without a crowd in attendance. But as Dottie had learned during an early period in her life, the trials of an ordinary human were sometimes so bad they drew unwanted attention from the public, too. Like with King George VI of England, her own severe stuttering problem had been an agony to endure. However, to be human and a royal at the same time placed one in double jeopardy.
At the age of twenty-nine and long since free of her former speech problem, Dottie loved her anonymity. In that sense she felt compassion for the little princess she hadn’t even met yet. The poor thing was already under a microscope and would remain there for all the days of life she was granted. Whether she had a speech problem or something that went deeper, word would get out.
One day when the motherless princess was old enough to understand, she’d learn the world was talking about her and would never leave her alone. If she had a physical or a noticeable psychological problem, the press would be merciless. Dottie vowed in her heart she’d do whatever possible to help the little girl, if it were in her power.
But at the moment the helicopter trip was playing havoc with her stomach and the lovely sightseeing trip had been wasted on her. The second they landed and she was shown to her quarters in the glistening white royal palace, she lost any food she’d eaten and went straight to bed.
It was embarrassing, but when she was green around the gills and unable to rally, nothing except a good night’s sleep would help her to recover. When her business was finished here and she left the country to go back to the States, she would take a flight from Hellenica’s airport to Athens before boarding a flight to New York. No more helicopter rides.
Alex eyed his ailing, widowed grandmother, whose silvery hair was still thick at eighty-five. She tired more easily these days and kept to her apartment. Alex knew she was more than ready for Stasio to come home and officially take the worries of the monarchy from her shoulders.
No one awaited Stasio’s return with more eagerness than Alex. When his brother had left on the first of April, he’d promised to be home by mid-May, yet it was already the thirtieth with his wedding only five weeks away. Alex needed out of his temporary responsibilities to spend more time with Zoe. He’d built up his hopes that this speech therapist could give him definitive answers. It would be a step in the right direction; his daughter was growing unhappier with each passing day.
“Thank you for breakfast,” he said in Greek. “If you two will excuse me, I have some business, but I’ll be back.” He kissed his petite daughter, who was playing with her roll instead of eating it. “Be good for Yiayia.”
Zoe nodded.
After bowing to his grandmother, he left her suite and hurried downstairs to his office in the other part of the palace. He’d wanted to meet this Mrs. Richards last evening, but Hector had told him she’d never ridden in a helicopter before and had become ill during the flight. There’d been nothing he could do but wait until this morning and wonder if her getting sick was already a bad omen.
He knew better than to ask Hector what she was like. His assistant would simply answer, “That’s not for me to say, Your Highness.” His tendency not to gossip was a sterling quality Alex admired, but at times it drove Stasio insane.
For years his elder brother had barked at Hector that he wasn’t quite human. Alex had a theory that the reason why Hector irked Stasio was because Stasio had grown up knowing that one day he’d have to be king. Hector was a permanent reminder that Stasio’s greatest duty was to his country, to marry Princess Beatriz and produce heirs to the throne.
Like the queen, who wanted more great-grandchildren for the glory of Hellenica, Alex looked forward to his brother producing some cousins for Zoe. His little girl would love a baby around. She’d asked Alex for a sister, but all he could say was that her uncle Stasi would produce a new heir to the throne before long.
After reaching his office, he scowled when he read the fax sent from Stasio, who was still in Valleder. Sorry, little brother, but banking business will keep me here another week. Tell Yiayia I’ll be home soon. Give Zoe a hug from her uncle. Hang in there. You do great work. Stasi.
“Your Highness? May I present Mrs. Richards.”
He threw his head back. Hector had come in the office without him being aware of it and was now clearing his throat. A very American-looking woman—down to the way she carried herself—had entered with him, taller than average, with her light brown hair swept up in a loose knot. Alex was so disappointed, even angered by his brother’s news, he’d forgotten for a moment that Hector was on his way down. Stasio had taken advantage of their bargain.
“One month, little brother,” he’d said when he’d left. “That’s all I need to carry out some lucrative banking negotiations. Philippe is helping me.” But Stasio had been gone much longer and Alex wasn’t happy about it. Neither was the queen, the prime minister or the archbishop, who were getting anxious to confer with him about the coronation and royal nuptials coming up soon.
Pushing his feelings aside, Alex got to his feet. “Welcome to Hellenica, Mrs. Richards.”
“Thank you, Your Highness.”
She gave an awkward curtsey, no doubt coached by Hector. He hated to admit she looked fresh, appealing even, as she stood there in a pale blue blouse and skirt that tied at her slender waist, drawing his attention to the feminine curves revealed above and below. He hadn’t meant to stare, but his eyes seemed to have a will of their own as they took in her long, shapely legs.
Alex quickly shifted his gaze to her face and was caught off guard again by the wide, sculpted mouth and the cornflower-blue of her eyes. They reminded him of the cornflowers growing wild alongside larkspurs on Aurum Island where he normally lived.
He missed his private palace there where he conducted the mining interests for the monarchy, away from Hellenica. The big island drew the tourists in hordes, Aurum not quite so much. He shouldn’t mind tourists since they were one of his country’s greatest financial resources, but with his daughter in such distress, everything bothered him these days. Especially the woman standing in front of him.
A speech therapist could come in any size and shape. He just hadn’t expected this woman, period. For one thing, she looked too young for