Rags To Riches: At His Bidding: A Home for Nobody's Princess / The Rancher's Housekeeper / Prince Daddy & the Nanny

“Wow,” she whispered.

Mr. Bernard continued his discourse as he led her throughout the main floor of the palace, which held numerous meeting rooms, two ballrooms and several nooks with antique furniture where someone could look out the window and enjoy the sight of the palace grounds. As her guide commented on the origin of the architecture of the palace, she couldn’t contain her curiosity any longer.

“What was he like?” she asked. “Prince Edward?”

Mr. Bernard seemed slightly taken aback. “Prince Edward was a sword master. His passion was yachting and he was loyal in his duties as prince. He graduated from university in France and provided Chantaine with an excellent heir, along with a progeny that are a delight to our citizens.”

“And his—” she paused, wanting to repeat the word he’d used, though it wasn’t one she would dream of choosing “—his progeny. What are they like?”

“As I said, they are delightful.”

But that didn’t answer her question.

* * *

Coco ate half her sandwich with Emma on her lap while Benjamin wolfed down the meal delivered from the palace kitchen. He eyed her remaining half sandwich.

She shoved her plate toward him. “Take it. I’m not going to eat it. I have formal tea in a short while. Can we look that up on Google? I’ve never had a formal tea before.”

“You’re sure?” he asked, staring at her sandwich.

“I’m sure,” she said and shoved her plate toward him.

He immediately scooped up her half sandwich. “Did you get any real information?” he asked before he took a bite.

“He was very nice and informative, but when I asked what the royal family was like, he said delightful.”

He scowled. “No one is always delightful. He’s a PR guy. You’ll get a better feel for this after this afternoon.”

“But I’m nervous now,” she confessed. “I’ve never had a formal tea before and certainly never with royals. I really need to check Google. Am I supposed to curtsey?”

“It’s a choice. You’re not one of their subjects,” he said. “You’re not a citizen of their country.”

“True,” she said, feeling conflicted. “I just want to be respectful.”

He snorted. “Let them be respectful to you.”

His response made her smile.

Emma waved toward the plate she’d shoved in Benjamin’s direction and protested as if she wanted what was on his plate.

“Uh-oh,” he said.

“Yes. We have jars ready for her. As soon as you finish, can you give her some food while I look up high tea on the internet?”

He chuckled. “Yeah, I’m there,” he said, reaching for Emma.

Emma hesitated.

“He’s got the food,” Coco said in a low voice and gave Emma a squeeze before she passed the baby to him.

“And that baby food is where?” he asked as Emma began to squawk.

“I’ll get it,” Coco said and found a jar in a backpack. “Here,” she said, giving him a jar of strained peas.

He made a face. “This didn’t end well the last time I fed her strained peas.”

“Stop when she starts to spit. Don’t continue to put food in when she is spitting it out,” she said. “It’s pretty logical.”

He frowned. “Easy for you to say. You do this all the time.”

“This is your opportunity to bond with your daughter,” she said.

Emma began to fuss and lift her arms toward Coco. “Oops, I’ll go into a different room and try to find out more about an afternoon tea. May I use your tablet?” Coco asked.

“Go right ahead,” he said.

Emma let out a loud scream of protest that tugged at Coco’s heart, but she forced herself to close the door behind her. She suffered during the next couple moments while Emma loudly voiced her displeasure. Finally, the baby quieted, and Coco’s stomach unknotted just a bit. She was still tense about meeting her half siblings.

Pulling out the tablet, she ran a search on afternoon tea and scanned for proper etiquette. No circular stirring. Move spoon from six o’clock position to twelve o’clock position. Never put your napkin in the seat. Don’t slice your scone....

Coco made a face. She didn’t even like scones. She continued to cram for the tea when a knock sounded on the door. Her stomach jolted into her throat and she jumped to her feet.

Taking a deep breath, she walked through the kitchen where Emma grinned at her. Peas were smeared on her cheeks and in her hair. “I think she’s done,” she said in a low voice to Benjamin.

“Think so?” he said in a dry tone. “I made the mistake of giving her the spoon.”

Coco watched Emma bang the spoon on the tray then toss it onto the floor. She winced. “Bad precedent. We’ll need to distract her during her next mealtime.”

Another knock sounded and Coco met Benjamin’s gaze. He rose to walk her to the door. “Just remember what I told you. Even that Emily Post woman says Americans should not bow or curtsey to anyone.”

“I’m pretty sure Emily Post never wrote a column about this particular situation,” she muttered and opened the door.

Benjamin grabbed her arm and lowered his head to press his mouth against hers. “I’ve got your back,” he said.

His reassurance gave her a warm feeling. “Thanks,” she said and joined Mr. Bernard for the second time that day.

Mr. Bernard prepped her for the tea during the short drive to the palace. “I’ll introduce each of the princesses to you individually. Prince Stefan will stop in later, due to his work schedule. Come this way,” he said and guided her down the marble hallway to a small room furnished with a lush wool carpet, antique furniture and a small table set with a sterling tea set, china teacups and saucers, small plates and a small tower of the scones she was not supposed to slice, along with jellies and other treats.

Mr. Bernard stood next to the door while Coco waited and walked around the room. She didn’t want to be suspicious, but she couldn’t help wondering if he were remaining in the room because he thought she might lift a souvenir and try to pocket it. The notion made her fume. She might not have been raised in a palace, but she’d been taught the difference between right and wrong.

Coco took a deep breath and chided herself. Be positive.

Suddenly, she heard footsteps and three women walked through the doorway. Mr. Bernard bowed to each of them. After studying their photographs on the internet, Coco could name each of them. The blonde was Princess Fredericka. The stylish brunette was Princess Bridget and the woman with the sweet face and wild hair and who also appeared to be sporting a baby bump was Princess Phillipa.

“Princess Fredericka, may I present Miss Coco Jordan,” Mr. Bernard said.

In the interest of erring on the side of politeness, Coco attempted a curtsey and briefly bowed her head.