The Simply Scandalous Princess

“You just stay true to yourself, cousin.”

“Oh, I try, Markus. I try.” Lucia accepted another kiss on the cheek. “Take care.” With that she moved through the revolving doors and out onto the sidewalk where she had the security guard hail her a cab.

Markus watched her depart and then turned as his right-hand man, Winston Rademacher, appeared at his side. “So, did your accidental encounter with Lucia confirm what we suspected?” Winston asked. His dark brown eyes were even squintier than normal as they gazed at where Lucia had been standing just moments before.

“Yes,” Markus replied. A bitterness filled him. “She had an appointment with the king. She’s obviously Easton’s next choice.”

“Really?” Winston rolled the word nastily off his tongue. “How very interesting.”

“Yes, it is,” Markus replied. The lobby was empty, although anyone overhearing the conversation would never understand the undercurrents buzzing between the two men. To anyone observing, the conversation was totally innocent.

Markus clenched his fist and shoved it in his pants pocket. “It seems as if Easton has settled on the youngest daughter now.”

“I’ll check into it,” Winston said.

Markus simply nodded. “See that you do.”

LUCIA HAD BARELY arrived at her mother’s apartment before Charlotte went on the attack. “So how did it go?” her mother asked.

“Fine,” Lucia said. She shrugged and handed Quincy, the family butler, her coat. “Sir Montcalm asked me questions and I answered them.”

“Devon?” Her mother looked excited at that prospect.

“No, Harrison,” Lucia replied.

“Oh, the older one,” Charlotte said dismissively.

“He’s younger than you,” Lucia said. Her mother gasped and inwardly Lucia winced. That had been cruel. “Sorry,” she mumbled as she entered the Grand Room.

Right now she’d rather be talking to Hester Vanderling, Quincy’s wife. Because Charlotte had been working, Hester had been Lucia’s nanny. Lucia considered Hester more of her confidante than Charlotte.

“So you didn’t see Devon?”

“Only for a moment,” Lucia said. She poured herself a tall glass of ice water. “I’m sure he has more important work to do than to sit around. Harrison handled the interview fine.”

Charlotte twisted the triple strand of freshwater pearls she wore around her neck. They had been an anniversary gift from Drake. She always wore the pearls, especially when she wore one of her designer suits. Today’s was baby blue, accenting her blue eyes and white hair. “Easton said he was going to have Devon sit in on the interview,” Charlotte said.

Lucia rolled her eyes. “He didn’t. Look, Mum, could you just stop playing matchmaker for once?”

A stricken look crossed Charlotte’s face. “You know I only want what’s best for you. Sir Devon is such a good man and so handsome.”

Not as handsome as his father, Lucia thought. She sipped her water. Plus, when she’d danced with Devon at CeCe’s reception, he hadn’t made her knees feel wobbly the way Harrison had.

“Besides,” Charlotte said, “as queen you probably need a prince consort. Who better than Sir Devon? He’s your age, and he knows everything about Korosol. Together you could outshine Princess Diana and Prince Charles in their heyday.”

“Look how that turned out,” Lucia pointed out. “I’ll marry for love, and I prefer to find it myself.”

The arrival of King Easton saved her from having to discuss the matter further.

Dinner was a quiet affair, and after being told all of Sir Devon’s merits, Lucia longed to steal off into the kitchen and talk to Hester. Finally, after Charlotte and Easton retired to Charlotte’s study to discuss a business problem of Charlotte’s, Lucia found her chance.

“Ah, wondered when you’d steal way,” Hester said. She accepted the warm kiss Lucia pressed onto the skin of her sixty-something cheek.

“I had to listen to the sale’s pitch of why I should marry Sir Devon Montcalm first,” Lucia said.

Hester nodded. “Heard them rehearsing it just the other night.”

“Well, I wish they’d stop.”

“Found someone yourself, have you?” Hester placed the last dish in the dishwasher and turned it on. “Come tell me about him.”