The Improperly Pregnant Princess

CeCe knew she ought to say something now, but she couldn’t bear to blurt out the truth and see the disgust on her grandfather’s face. Not to mention that Charlotte would squawk loud enough to set off car alarms for blocks.

Despite lacking a course of action, she still needed to give her grandfather a response. “It’s a tremendous opportunity,” she said. “One I’m not sure I’m ready to handle. Would it be all right if I think it over?”

“There’s nothing to think about!” snapped her mother. “If your father were here—”

“If Drake were here, he’d be pleased that she takes the matter so seriously,” said the king. “I’m glad you don’t grab at the chance to glorify yourself, Cecelia. You understand, as you should, that saying yes will change not only your life but the lives of thousands of people.”

It was a solemn responsibility to have all those people counting on her. CeCe had never shrunk from taking charge, and she wasn’t about to start now—if it turned out her grandfather still intended to give her the chance, once she figured out how to break her news to him.

“We’ll get to know each other over the next few days,” the king said. “That will give you a chance to weigh the matter, and me an opportunity to make sure you’re the right person to rule my land.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” she said.

The monarch rose stiffly to his feet. The four women jumped up also. “I want to make sure my room is arranged to my liking before Ellie leaves. I shall see you all at dinner.”

“Let me show you the way.” Charlotte accompanied him from the room.

The young women sat in stunned silence for a few minutes. Then Lucia said, “I’m glad he picked you and not me!”

“I can just imagine you turning the royal palace into an artists’ loft like the one you live in,” Amelia teased.

“Well, I am an artist, and I can’t live my life to please other people,” replied their younger sister.

“You’re the one who’d make a good queen, Amelia,” CeCe said. “You could still work with the International Children’s Foundation. I’m sure they’d love to have a queen as a figurehead.”

“I’m not a figurehead!” Amelia answered in a rare display of temper.

“Of course not. I didn’t mean it that way.”

Although CeCe didn’t know the details of her sister’s work, she couldn’t help noticing that Amelia vanished from the apartment for weeks at a time. Often, she suspected, to travel to war-torn lands.

The ICF, a nonprofit relief organization, rescued orphans overseas and found them good homes. Because of the risk of being kidnapped if anyone discovered her identity, Amelia worked and traveled under an assumed name.

“You shouldn’t feel obligated to take the job just because grandfather and mother want you to,” Lucia told CeCe. “Once you become a queen, you won’t have a moment to yourself. Forget about finding the right man, not that it’s so easy for the rest of us.”

Three years earlier, Lucia had been duped by a gold-digging fiancé. Ever since, she’d avoided entanglements to concentrate on her design business.

Charlotte sailed through the door. “Don’t you dare try to talk your sister out of this! Being offered the throne is a dream come true.”

“Or a nightmare,” retorted Lucia.

“I don’t understand why you contradict me at every turn.” Charlotte’s tongue made a disapproving click. “Isn’t it bad enough that you live in SoHo and hang out with all those artsy types?”

CeCe was in no mood to hear old arguments rehashed. “I hope grandfather understands that I’m not going to be entirely at his beck and call these next few days.”

“His secretary mentioned he’s got some business at the embassy tomorrow morning, so you can keep your appointment with Shane,” Charlotte said. “Now, pipe down, all three of you. I have something to say.”

“Uh-oh,” muttered Lucia. Amelia shook her head at her sister.

CeCe perched on the arm of a sofa. The way her stomach felt, piping down was more difficult than her mother might guess. “Go ahead.”

Charlotte eyed the dessert cart longingly. “Before we start, there’s no point in letting these go to waste, I suppose.”

To keep her figure trim, she rarely indulged. Now she helped herself to a slice of mousse cake, taking dainty bites with a small silver fork. She must, CeCe mused, have expended a great deal of energy in worrying about the king’s arrival to have worked up such an appetite.

Her daughters needed no encouragement. Soon they were all sitting around, eating and waiting on their mother’s pronouncement.

At last the final bite of cake disappeared. It was typical of Charlotte not to begin speaking while she might have even a crumb of food left in her mouth.

“Now, listen closely,” she told her daughters. “I’m not sure when we’ll have another moment alone.”

“We’re listening,” Lucia said.

The dessert plate issued a refined pinging noise as Charlotte set it on the coffee table. “You know how hard I’ve worked all these years at the shipping company. It wasn’t entirely by choice, I assure you.”

“We know it was for our welfare,” Amelia said.

“After my husband and my father died, the business was in turmoil,” Charlotte said. “Twenty years ago, the world wasn’t as accepting of women executives as it is today.”

CeCe could sympathize with what her mother must have endured. She’d met with her share of patronizing remarks from competitors and potential clients, and found them infuriating.

“Although you were safe in Hester’s hands, I wish I could have spent more time with the three of you,” their mother continued. “I know I wasn’t always there for the moments when you needed someone to talk to.”

A break in her voice revealed a rare vulnerable side of Charlotte. However, despite the sacrifices, CeCe knew that her mother wouldn’t have had things any other way. Fierce pride had motivated her to seize the helm of the company when she might have sold it or looked to her father’s family for assistance.

“Most of all, I regret not raising you with a greater appreciation of your father’s heritage,” she said. “It isn’t entirely the king’s fault that we drifted apart. I take some of the blame on myself.”

“I’m not sure how much more we could appreciate it without living there full-time,” Lucia said. “We’re Americans, after all.”

“You have dual citizenship and don’t forget it!” said her mother. “If I’d had any inkling that this day would ever come…well, I can only hope that CeCe will rise to the occasion. If she doesn’t, you two other girls must keep yourselves available. I won’t tolerate excuses. Do I make myself clear?”

CeCe’s cheeks flamed at the suggestion that she might be found lacking. Despite her pregnancy, she couldn’t tolerate the thought of failing her family, especially her mother.

She’d always felt a duty to assist her mother, even if Charlotte rarely seemed to notice. As a teenager, CeCe had fussed with pretty dresses and social occasions only when her mother required it. Mostly, she’d devoted herself to her studies and to working part-time at the shipping company, learning the business from the ground up.

Now she was ready to take on the monarchy. The fact that she might not be allowed to, that she might bring disgrace on herself and her family just when everyone’s hopes were riding on her, made CeCe want to cry.

Well, she wouldn’t cry. She never cried, or hardly ever. Somehow, she was going to find a way to save face and pull this whole thing off.

SHANE WISHED HE COULD READ CeCe’s thoughts. Something must be buzzing through her mind, he’d concluded during brunch. Fortunately, the Chinese trade representative, Mr. Wong, hadn’t appeared to notice anything amiss.

To someone who knew her well, CeCe’s attention seemed scattered. At the same time, she’d changed in a subtle way that made her coloring more vivid and her manner less brisk. Shane couldn’t stop looking at her.

When they left the restaurant, he was glad to find that the sun had come out. Despite the winter chill, across the street women were pushing baby carriages through Central Park while college-age skateboarders whizzed past.

“Let’s take a walk,” he said after Mr. Wong departed in a taxi.

CeCe regarded him suspiciously. “A walk?”