The Improperly Pregnant Princess

“You left your what at the office?” asked Charlotte.

“My left-handed teapot,” she said.

There was a moment’s pause, and then King Easton burst out laughing. “My granddaughter is joking! How delightful.”

CeCe’s sisters released a few giggles. Charlotte smiled cautiously.

“Would you like me to pour?” asked Amelia.

“She’s very good at it,” said Lucia.

“And I’m not,” CeCe concluded.

The king beamed at them. “I appreciate your frankness, and I’m glad to see that your sisters have kind hearts. Lady Charlotte, they’re a tribute to their upbringing.”

Their mother basked in his praise. For once, CeCe was glad to see, the three of them had won her approval.

Amelia proceeded to serve the tea without spilling a drop. Charlotte herself couldn’t have done better.

When they were all settled, the king said, “I want to tell you why I’ve come.”

“You don’t need a reason,” said his daughter-in-law.

“That’s true. Yet there is one.”

Since her mother’s announcement the previous day, CeCe had turned the matter over in her mind. Now she figured she had a pretty good idea what to expect.

Three years ago, there’d been talk that King Easton would retire on his seventy-fifth birthday. However, after his eldest son decided he wanted a few more years of relative freedom, the retirement was postponed.

Now that a year of mourning for Byrum had ended, her grandfather must have decided to hand the reins of power to Markus. Her cousin had made no secret of his eagerness to assume the role.

She wasn’t sure why Easton wanted to announce the transition to his granddaughters in person. The most likely explanation was that he sought the family’s support for the new king, along with their attendance at the coronation.

Of course they would go. CeCe only hoped her pregnancy wouldn’t be too obvious by that point.

“I’ve decided to step down from the throne,” Easton said.

CeCe nodded. It was what she’d assumed.

“We’re sorry to hear it,” Charlotte said.

“Don’t be. As long as I can hand Korosol to a strong, benevolent monarch, we should all rejoice.”

“When is the coronation to take place?” CeCe asked.

“That depends on you.”

“On us?”

“On you personally.” Easton studied her closely. “You see, Princess Cecelia, I’ve decided that you are to be my successor.”

Chapter Three

In the stunned silence that followed King Easton’s announcement, CeCe became acutely aware of the ticking of an antique clock. Of the swirl of dust motes down long shafts of light. Of the swift thumping of her heart.

Was he joking? One look at his face told her otherwise.

Her mother and sisters sat frozen. If anyone had dared to light a bomb under Charlotte’s chair, she wouldn’t have stirred.

Queen of Korosol? Such a thought had never entered CeCe’s mind, even in those childhood days when she and her sisters used to play at being princesses for real.

Of course, they were princesses for real. Living in New York, however, those titles meant little beyond the interest they stirred among the status-conscious.

“I don’t even know Korosol,” she said, then realized how ungracious that sounded. “I mean, I don’t deserve this honor. I haven’t visited the country since I was nine.”

“I’m aware of that.” Her grandfather sank back on the couch, looking weary. “I blame myself for not insisting that you girls spend a month each summer with me. However, a businesswoman with your credentials should be able to familiarize yourself with Korosol’s needs rather quickly.”

Charlotte coughed before managing to speak. “Your Majesty, I’m astounded. We’re all incredibly grateful—”

The king lifted one hand to halt the flow of words. “It’s a lifelong commitment. Since my granddaughter hasn’t been prepared for it the way I was, I won’t try to force it on her.”

“Naturally, my daughter will do anything you ask,” Charlotte assured him.

CeCe couldn’t begin to absorb the ramifications of becoming a queen. Moreover, her grandfather’s decision puzzled her.

“Although I realize the law doesn’t require it, I always assumed Markus was next in line,” she said.

Her cousin, who was half a dozen years older than CeCe, maintained an apartment in New York and a playboy lifestyle. Having seen him often over the years, she found him charming at times and manipulative at others.

Thin frown lines puckered Easton’s forehead. “I have reason to believe my grandson may not be, well, quite right for the job. That’s all I care to say on the matter.”

Perhaps it was Markus’s occasional heavy drinking that bothered their grandfather, CeCe thought. She couldn’t help feeling sorry for her cousin, who’d mentioned several times how much he looked forward to assuming the throne.

“I think CeCe will make a wonderful queen,” Amelia said, fulfilling her accustomed role of peacekeeper.

“She’ll be terrific, if it’s what she really wants to do,” said Lucia.

Queen Cecelia of Korosol. CeCe was sophisticated enough to know how the world would trumpet the storybook elevation of a New York executive into such a romantic position.

Romantic to others, perhaps. She doubted Shane would be impressed. He’d made it clear he admired people for their accomplishments, not for what was simply handed to them.

That was one of the reasons that his respect meant so much to her. Until that embarrassing night they’d spent together, she’d secretly looked forward to their negotiations. The flare of approval on his face when she raised a point that he hadn’t considered, even when it came at his own expense, thrilled her.

She’d missed Shane these past few months. Even though he sometimes annoyed her, she came alive during their verbal battles.

Becoming queen meant CeCe would never again walk into her office and see him standing there. She would never be able to call him on the phone and ask his advice or outline her latest idea.

Of course, she wasn’t queen yet. Under the circumstances, she reminded herself, she probably never would be. Could she possibly have timed her pregnancy worse?