“My grandmother?” Now Luc was the one who looked startled. “I hadn’t thought about that.”
“And with Marie-Claire, Ariane, Lise and Jacqueline, you’ve got four sisters.”
“Half sisters,” he corrected her. “Three of whom have all married in the past few months. There must be something in the palace water that’s responsible for all these weddings.”
“Your half sisters would disagree with you, I’m sure. They all married for love.”
“A romantic idea to be sure,” he scoffed.
“You don’t believe in marrying for love?”
“It isn’t something kings are supposed to do, is it?” Luc replied, pausing in front of her desk to bestow a brooding look down at the letter still resting there. “Supposedly King Philippe and my mother were in love, and look where it got them. It seems to have messed up the rest of their lives.”
“It doesn’t have to happen that way.”
“Oh, so now you’re the expert on royal love, hmm?” He turned to face her, propping his hip on the corner of the oak table as she had earlier. “I thought your thesis was on the role royal women played in St. Michel’s history.”
“And that role sometimes included falling in love.”
“What about you? Have you ever fallen in love?” Luc asked her.
“I thought so at the time.” Then Luc had come to the palace and things had changed. Her feelings for Armand had dimmed in comparison to her awareness of Luc. “What about you?”
“Love makes you vulnerable and I try not to be vulnerable.”
No surprise there. “If you’re so invulnerable,” she teased him, “then you shouldn’t be nervous about this upcoming meeting with the prime minister. You should be cool and calm, as you always are. A man in control.”
“Is that how you see me?”
She nodded. It was easier than adding that it was one of the ways she saw him, that she also sensed something deeper within him.
“Well, I’ll take that as a compliment then. Doesn’t stop me from being uneasy about this meeting, however.”
“Do you want me to help…” Juliet began, before stopping as she remembered that it was the king, not merely Luc, she was offering assistance to. As if a king would need a bookworm’s help. “Never mind.” She took a step away from him.
“No, go ahead. You were going to offer help with what?”
“Your meeting. By coming with you. A stupid idea.”
“Not stupid at all. You’ve got a quiet way of getting people on your side. But this is one battle I’ve got to fight on my own.”
“Of course,” she said formally, taking another step back. “I understand and I agree.”
“Why are you doing that?” Luc demanded, noting the change in her voice immediately.
“Doing what?”
“Going all proper and starchy on me, pulling away from me.”
“This office isn’t large enough for me to move very far away,” she pointed out in an attempt to add a little levity.
But Luc wasn’t buying her act for one second. Giving her a dark look, he said, “Don’t you dare start acting differently now that you know about me being…” He paused and sliced the air with his hand instead of continuing.
“King,” Juliet said. “The word you are searching for is king. And you can’t expect me to act as if nothing has happened.”
“I expect you to continue to be my friend as you’ve been since I arrived at the palace three years ago.”
“I will always be your friend, Luc, but this is bound to change things between us.”
“Not if we don’t let it. And I refuse to let it,” he stated. “You must promise to do the same.”
She shook her head. “I don’t think I can promise that.”
“Why not?”
“Because you being the king changes everything. Some things we have no control over.”
“The one thing I plan on doing with this situation is maintaining control,” Luc stated firmly.
“Some things are beyond our control,” she repeated with soft sadness.
Some things…like falling in love with a man who would be king.
“So Luc, I hope the fact that you called this special meeting means you have some good news to report to us,” Prime Minister René Davoine said with his customary dignity. Slim and blessed with plenty of pewter-gray hair and a mustache to match, he was the picture of a distinguished statesman. Dressed in a two-piece dark suit as always, he appeared more somber than he actually was.
“I have news, but I’m not certain how good it is,” Luc replied.
“Don’t mutter, Luc,” Dowager Queen Simone instructed him tartly.
Standing before the two of them made him feel like a bug under a microscope. As for the dowager queen, he’d never met anyone quite like her.
Thin and regal, she possessed a presence that filled the room—and considering they were in the huge Throne Room, that was no small feat. At age seventy-five, she had her short dark hair meticulously maintained so that not one hint of gray or white showed.
Aside from her attitude, her eyes were the most memorable thing about her. They were a piercing blue, not as dark as his own, more the color of a light sabre. They certainly had a way of slicing right through a person who irritated her, which he’d apparently just done.
Queen Celeste had tried to convince anyone who would listen that Dowager Queen Simone was “dotty.” And, while the older monarch had forgotten some details of the events that surrounded her son’s early marriage, there was no denying that in most cases the dowager queen was still as sharp as a tack.
She was eyeing him with honed intensity. “Those English schools taught you how to enunciate properly.”
“I could speak in French or German or Italian, if you prefer, ma’am,” Luc retorted.
She waved his words away with an imperious wave of her wrinkled but still elegant hand. On her left hand was the elaborate diamond ring that her husband, King Antoine, had given her upon their engagement over fifty years ago. She’d outlived both her husband and her only son due not only to her strong constitution but also to her iron will. “English will suffice.”
“Please be seated, Luc,” the prime minister said with a much more inviting wave of his hand.
Luc sat on the Louis XIV chair as if it might collapse beneath him. This sudden attack of nerves was so unlike him. He’d been dealing with the prime minister and the dowager queen for months without any problem. But that had been when he’d been an employee, when he’d been head of the country’s Security Force. It was a job he enjoyed, a job he knew how to do, a job he was very good at.
Damn. He should have asked Juliet to come with him when she’d offered. She’d know what to say. While she was shy around large groups of strangers, she had a way of disarming people with her quiet smile and sincere empathy.
“Well, Luc?” The prime minister looked at him encouragingly. “Have you found the missing heir?”
“I believe so, yes.”
“You believe so?” Simone said. “You mean there is some room for doubt?”
“No. I