Royal Babies

Then he’d fake it. If he could close his emotions down—and he was a past master in the art—then surely the reverse would be true too. ‘My school visit is planned for seven a.m., so if we schedule the press for midday that should work.’

‘I’d like to come with you to the school. It’s a cause I’d love to be involved in, and now...now I can.’

Her smile broadened and it occurred to him that, whilst he couldn’t condone what she had done, hiding Amil had impacted on Sunita’s life heavily. She’d lost her career, had to subdue her identity and become anonymous.

Sheesh. Get a grip. Any minute now he’d start to feel sorry for her.

The point now was that Sunita would be an asset to the charity.

His phone beeped and he read the message.

‘Amil and your grandmother are in the hotel. So are Sam and Miranda. So let’s go and face the press.’

And then he’d face the music. He had no doubt his chief advisor had set up a veritable orchestra.

CHAPTER SIX

‘YOU’VE DONE WHAT?’ Marcus Alrikson, hot off a private jet, scooted across the floor of the hotel suite. ‘The whole existence of a secret baby is bad enough—but now you’re telling me you have proposed marriage!’ Marcus paused, pinched the bridge of his nose and inhaled deeply. ‘Why?’

Frederick surveyed him from the depths of the leather sofa. ‘Because I have a son, and I want my son to live with me and his mother. I realise that flies in the face of Lycander tradition, but there you have it. I want Amil to inherit his birthright. The only way to achieve both those goals is marriage.’

‘If this marriage loses you the crown he won’t have a birthright to inherit.’

‘It won’t.’ Frederick imbued his voice with a certainty he was far from feeling—but he was damned if he would admit that to Marcus. ‘This is the right thing to do and the people of Lycander will see that.’

‘Perhaps...but that doesn’t mean they will accept Sunita or Amil.’

‘They will have no reason not to. Sunita has proved herself to be an exemplary mother. And she will be an exemplary princess.’

Marcus shook his head. ‘She is a supermodel with a reputation as a party girl. You have no idea what she may or may not do—she would never have made my list in a million years. She is as far from Kaitlin Derwent as the moon is from Jupiter.’

‘And look what happened with Lady Kaitlin. Plus, don’t you think you’re being a little hypocritical? What about my reputation?’

‘You have spent two years showing that you have changed. The reforms you are undertaking for Lycander are what the people want. You may have been a playboy with a party lifestyle, but you also founded a global business—Freddy Petrelli’s Olive Oil is on supermarket shelves worldwide. At least you partied on your own dime.’

‘So did Sunita. And her party days were over by the time we met.’

‘Sunita has spent two years hiding your son from you,’ Marcus retorted. ‘There is nothing to suggest she will be good for Lycander and plenty to suggest she will plunge the monarchy straight back into scandal. She could run off with Amil, file for divorce before the honeymoon is over...’

‘She won’t.’

He couldn’t know that, though—not really. He’d known Sunita for a couple of weeks two years ago. Doubt stepped in but he kicked it out even as he acknowledged the sceptical rise of his chief advisor’s eyebrow. ‘Or at least it’s a risk I am willing to take.’

‘It is too big a risk. The women on my list are open to the idea of an arranged marriage—they have been brought up to understand the rules. Dammit, Frederick, we had this discussion. We agreed that it was important for the Lycander bride to be totally unlike your father’s later choices and more in line with his first wife.’

Axel’s mother, Princess Michaela, a princess in her own right, had been a good woman.

‘We did. But circumstances have changed.’

‘Doesn’t matter. You plan to present your people with a bride who may well cause a scandal broth of divorce and custody battles.’

‘I have no choice—none of this is Amil’s fault.’

‘I am not suggesting you turn your back on Amil. Provide for him. See him regularly. But do not marry his mother.’

‘No.’ It was as simple as that. ‘I will be a real father to Amil and this is the way forward. I’m doing this, Marcus—with or without your help.’

Silence reigned and then Marcus exhaled a long sigh and sank into the seat opposite. ‘As you wish.’

* * *

Sunita surveyed her reflection in the mirror, relieved that there was no evidence of the tumult that raged in her brain. Frederick...discovery... Amil...Crown Prince...marriage...Goa...disaster.

There was potential disaster on all fronts—the thought of marriage was surreal, the enormity of the decision she needed to make made her head whirl and the idea of two days in Goa with Frederick made her tummy loop the loop.

A tentative knock on the door heralded the arrival of Eric, the Lycander staff member who had been dispatched to her apartment the previous night.

‘Good morning, Eric, and thank you again for getting my things. I really appreciate it.’

‘You’re very welcome, ma’am. The Prince is ready.’

She followed Eric through the opulence of the hotel, with its gold and white theme, along plush carpet and past gilded walls, through the marble lobby, past luscious plants and spectacular flower arrangements and outside to the limo. There Frederick awaited her, leant against the hood of the car, dressed casually in jeans and a T-shirt, his blond hair still a touch spiked with damp, as if he’d grabbed a shower on the run.

‘A limo? Isn’t that a touch ostentatious?’

The flippant comment made to mask her catch of breath, the thump of her heart. ‘I promised the children a limo after my last visit—they were most disappointed when I turned up in a taxi.’

He held the door for her and she slid inside, the air-conditioned interior a welcome relief against the humidity, with its suggestion of imminent monsoon rain.

‘They are amazing kids—they make you feel...humble.’

Sunita nodded. ‘I read up on the charity last night. The whole set-up sounds awesome and its achievements are phenomenal. I love the simplicity of the idea—using open spaces as classrooms—and I admire the dedication of the volunteers. I’ll do all I can to raise the profile and raise funds. Today and in the future.’

‘Thank you. Axel helped set up the charity and donated huge sums after someone wrote to him with the idea and it caught his imagination. I wish...’

‘You wish what?’ The wistfulness in his voice touched her.

‘I wish he’d told me about it.’

‘People don’t always like to talk about their charitable activity.’ She frowned. ‘But in this case surely he must have been pretty public about it, because his profile would have raised awareness.’

‘It didn’t work like that. My father was unpredictable about certain issues—he may not have approved of Axel’s involvement. So Axel kept it low-key. Anonymous, in fact. I only found out after his death because someone from the charity wrote with their condolences and their thanks for all he had done. I decided to take over and make it a more high-profile role.’

‘Didn’t your father mind?’

Frederick shrugged. ‘I don’t know. He and I weren’t close.’ His tone forbade further questions. ‘Anyway, in the past two years the number of schools has increased three-fold and I’ve hired an excellent administrator—she isn’t a volunteer, because she can’t afford to be, but she is worth every penny. The schools are makeshift, but that has saved money and I think it makes them more accessible.’

His face was lit with enthusiasm and there was no doubting his sincerity. Any reservations she’d harboured that this was simply a publicity stunt designed to show that Frederick had a charitable side began to fall away.

This continued when they arrived at the school and a veritable flock of children hurtled towards the car.

He exhibited patience, good humour and common sense; he allowed them to feel and touch the car, and then promised they could examine the interior after their lessons—as long as their teacher agreed.

A smiling woman dressed in a forest-green and blue salwar kameez came forward and within minutes children of differing ages and sizes were seated in the pavilion area and the lesson commenced.

Sunita marvelled at the children’s concentration and the delight they exuded—despite the open-air arena, and all the distractions on offer, they were absorbed in their tasks, clearly revelling in the opportunity to learn.

‘Would you like to go and look at their work?’ the teacher offered, and soon Sunita was seated next to a group of chattering children, all of whom thrust their notebooks towards her, emanating so much pride in their achievements that flipped her heart.

She glanced at Frederick and her heart did another turn. Standing against a backdrop of palm trees and lush monsoon greenery, he was performing a series of magic tricks that held the children spellbound. He produced coins from ears and cards from thin air, bringing gasps of wonder and giggles of joy.

Finally, after the promised exploration of the limo, the children dispersed—many of them off to work—and after a long conversation with the teacher Frederick and Sunita returned to the car for their journey back to the hotel.

‘Next time I’ll take Amil,’ Sunita said. ‘I want him to meet those kids, to grow up with an understanding of the real world.’

‘Agreed.’

The word reminded Sunita that from now on Frederick would have a say in her parenting decisions, but right now that didn’t seem to matter. This was a topic they agreed on.

‘There’s such a lesson to be learnt there—those children want to learn, and it doesn’t matter to them if they have computers or science labs or technology. They find joy in learning, and that’s awesome as well as humbling.’

‘All of this is humbling.’

He turned to look out of the window, gesturing to the crowded Mumbai streets, and Sunita understood what that movement of his hand had encompassed—the poverty that was rife, embodied by the beggars who surged to the limo windows whenever the car slowed, hands outstretched, entreaty on their faces. But it was more than that – you could see the spectrum of humanity, so many individuals each and every one with their own dreams and worries.

‘You really care. This isn’t all a publicity stunt...part of your new image.’

‘This is about a continuation of Axel’s work—no more, no less. Don’t paint me as a good person, Sunita. If it weren’t for Axel I would never have given this so much as a thought.’

The harshness of his voice shocked her, jolted her backwards on the seat with its intensity. ‘Perhaps, but you were hardly duty-bound to take over—or to come out here and interact with those children like that.’ She couldn’t help it. ‘Axel didn’t do that, did he?’

‘Axel couldn’t do that—he needed to be the heir my father wanted him to be.’

With that he pulled his phone out of his pocket in a clear indication that the subject was well and truly closed.

Sunita frowned, fighting the urge to remove the phone from his grasp and resume their conversation, to make him see that he was wrong—in this instance he was a good person.

Back off, Sunita.

Right now she needed to remain focused on whether or not she wanted to marry this man—and what the consequences of her decision would be for Amil. And in that vein she needed to look ahead to the photo call, which meant an assessment of the recent press coverage. So she pulled her own phone out of her pocket.

A few minutes later he returned the mobile to his pocket.

‘OK. We’ll fly to Goa late afternoon, after the photo call and the trip to Hanging Gardens. As you requested I’ve sorted out a room near your suite for Sam and Miranda.’

‘Thank you. I appreciate that.’

Goa! Sudden panic streamed through her and she pushed it down. She was contemplating marriage to Frederick, for goodness’ sake—so panic over a mere two days was foolish, to say the least. She needed to focus on Amil.

She glanced across at Frederick, wondering how he must feel about taking Amil out. Perhaps she should ask, but the question would simply serve as a reminder of the fact that he had missed out on the first fourteen months of his son’s life.

So instead she faced forward and maintained silence until the limo pulled up outside the hotel.

* * *

Frederick stood outside the hotel bedroom door. His heart pounded in his chest with a potent mix of emotions—nervousness, anticipation and an odd sense of rightness. In two minutes he would meet Amil. Properly. Terror added itself to the mix, and before he could turn tail and flee he raised his hand and knocked.

Sunita opened the door, Amil in her arms, and he froze. He didn’t care that he was standing in the corridor in full sight of any curious passers-by. All he could do was gaze at his son. His son.

Wonder entered his soul as his eyes roved over his features and awe filled him. His son. The words overwhelmed and terrified him in equal measure, causing a strange inability to reach out and hold the little boy. His emotions paralysed him, iced his limbs into immobility, stopped his brain, brought the world into slow motion.

Determination that he would not let Amil down fought with the bone-deep knowledge that of course he would. He wasn’t equipped for this—didn’t have the foundations to know how to be a parent, how not to disappoint.

But he would do all he could. He could give this boy his name, his principality, and perhaps over time he would work out how to show his love.

Amil gazed back at him with solemn hazel eyes and again panic threatened—enough that he wrenched his gaze away.

‘You OK?’ Sunita’s soft voice pulled him into focus and he saw understanding in her eyes, and perhaps even the hint of a tear at the edge of her impossibly long eyelashes.

‘I’m fine.’

Get a grip.

He had no wish to feature as an object of compassion. So he kept his gaze on Sunita, absorbed her vibrant beauty, observed her change of outfit from casual jeans and T-shirt to a leaf-print black and white dress cinched at the waist with a wide red belt. Strappy sandals completed the ensemble.

‘Bababababa!’ Amil vouchsafed, and a well of emotion surged anew.

‘Do you want to hold him?’

‘No!’ Think. ‘I don’t want to spook him—especially just before the photo call.’

It wasn’t a bad cover-up, but possibly not good enough to allay the doubts that dawned in her eyes.

‘You won’t. He’s fairly sociable. Though obviously he doesn’t really meet that many strange me—’ She broke off. ‘I’m sorry. Of all the stupid things to say that took the cake, the biscuit and the whole damn patisserie.’

‘It’s OK. I am a stranger to Amil—that’s why I don’t want to spook him.’

His gaze returned to the baby, who was watching him, his eyes wide open, one chubby hand clutching a tendril of Sunita’s hair.

‘We need to go.’

‘I know. But first I have a couple of questions about the press conference and the Kaitlin question.’

Frederick frowned. ‘What question would that be?’

‘A couple of reporters said, and I quote, that you are “broken-hearted” and that perhaps I can mend the chasm. Others have suggested you would welcome a dalliance with an old flame as a gesture, to show Lady Kaitlin you are over her.’

‘I still don’t understand what your question is.’

‘Two questions. Are you heartbroken? Are you over her?’

‘No and yes. I need to get married for Lycander. My heart is not involved. Kaitlin understood that—our relationship was an alliance. When that alliance became impossible we ended our relationship. Since then she has met someone else and I wish her well.’

Sunita’s expression held a kind of shocked curiosity. ‘That’s it? You were with her for months. You must have felt something for her.’

Momentary doubt touched him and then he shrugged. ‘Of course I did. I thought that she would be an excellent asset to Lycander.’

Kaitlin’s diplomatic connections had been exemplary, as had her aristocratic background. She’d had a complete understanding of the role of consort and had been as uninterested in love as he was.

‘I was disappointed when it didn’t work out.’

‘Yes. I see that it must have been tough for you to have the deal break down.’ Sarcasm rang out from the spurious sympathy.

‘It was—but only because it had an adverse impact on my position as ruler.’

And that was all that mattered. His goal was to rule Lycander as his brother would have wished, to achieve what Axel would have achieved. Whatever it took.

‘So all you need to know about Kaitlin is that she is in the past. My heart is intact.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘And now we really need to go.’

A pause and then she nodded. ‘OK. This is our chance to change the mixed reaction into a positive one. An opportunity to turn the tide in our favour.’

‘You sound confident that you can do that.’

‘Yup. I’m not a fan of bad publicity. Watch and learn.’

One photo call later and Frederick was looking at Sunita in reluctant admiration. He had to hand it to her. By the end of the hour she had had even the most hostile reporter eating out of her hand. Somehow she had mixed a suggestion of regret over her actions with the implicit belief that it had been the only option at the time. In addition, she had managed to make it clear that whilst two years ago Frederick had been a shallow party prince, now he had morphed into a different and better man, a worthy ruler of Lycander.

No doubt Marcus had been applauding as he watched.

Hell, even he had almost believed it. Almost.

‘You did a great job. And I appreciate that you included me in your spin.’

‘It wasn’t spin. Everything I said about you was true—you have worked incredibly hard these past two years, you have instigated all the changes I outlined, and you do have Lycander’s future at heart.’

The words washed over him like cold, dirty water—if the people of Lycander knew where the blame for Axel’s death lay they would repudiate him without compunction, and they would be right to do so. But he didn’t want these thoughts today—not on his first outing with Amil.

He glanced down at Amil, secure now in his buggy, dressed in a jaunty striped top and dungarees, a sun hat perched on his head, a toy cat clasped firmly in one hand.

‘Amamamamam...ma.’ Chubby legs kicked and he wriggled in a clear instruction for them to move on.

Sunita smiled down at her son. ‘I think he wants to get going—he wants to see all the animal hedges. They seem to utterly fascinate him.’

As they wandered through the lush gardens that abounded with shades of green tranquillity seemed to be carried on the breeze that came from the Arabian Sea, and for a moment it was almost possible to pretend they were an ordinary family out for the day.

Sunita came to a halt near a topiary hedge, one of many clipped into the shape of animals. ‘For some reason this is his favourite—I can’t work out why.’

Frederick studied it. ‘I’m not sure I can even work out what it is. I spotted the giraffe and the elephant and the ox-drawn cart, but this one flummoxes me.’

Sunita gave a sudden gurgle of laughter. ‘I know what Amil thinks it is. Amil, sweetheart, tell Mu—Tell us what the animal does.’

The little boy beamed and made a ‘raaaah’ noise.

Frederick felt his heart turn over in his chest. Without thought he hunkered down next to Amil and clapped. ‘Clever boy. The tiger goes “rah”.’

‘Raaah!’ Amil agreed.

And here it came again—the paralysis, the fear that he would mess this up. He’d never managed any other relationship with even a sliver of success. Why would this be different?

Rising to his feet, he gestured around the garden. ‘This is a beautiful place.’

‘I used to come here as a child,’ Sunita said. ‘It’s one of my earliest memories. I loved the flower clock.’

She pressed her lips together, as if she regretted the words, and Frederick frowned. Her publicity blurb skated over her childhood, chose to focus instead on her life after she’d embarked on her career. Almost as if she had written her early years out of her life history...

‘Come on,’ she said hurriedly. ‘This morning isn’t about my childhood. It’s about Amil’s—let’s go to the Old Woman’s Shoe.’

Five minutes later Frederick stared at the shoe—actually an enormous replica of a boot. As landmarks went, it seemed somewhat bizarre—especially when the words of the nursery rhyme filtered back to him.

There was an old woman who lived in a shoe.

She had so many children she didn’t know what to do.

She gave them broth without any bread,

Then whipped them all soundly and sent them to bed.

‘Isn’t this a slightly odd thing to put in a children’s playground?’

‘Yes. But I loved it—I used to climb it and it made me feel lucky. It was a way to count my blessings. At least I didn’t live with a horrible old woman who starved me and beat me!’

At least. There had been a wealth of memory in those syllables, and for a daft moment he had the urge to put his arm around her and pull her into the comfort of a hug.

As if realising she had given away more than she had wanted, she hastened on. ‘Anyway, I looked up the rhyme recently and it turns out it probably has political rather than literal connotations. But enough talk. This is about you and Amil. Do you want to take Amil into the shoe? I’ll wait here with the buggy.’

The suggestion came out of nowhere, ambushed him, and once again his body froze into immobility even as his brain turned him into a gibbering wreck.

‘I think that may be a little bit much for him. He barely knows me.’ Think. ‘We haven’t even explained to him who I am.’

The accusation in his own voice surprised him—and he knew it masked a hurt he didn’t want her to see. Because it exposed a weakness he didn’t want her to know. ‘Never show weakness, my son.’ The one piece of paternal advice he agreed with. ‘Show weakness and you lose.’ Just as all his stepmothers had lost. Their weakness had been their love for their children—a weakness Alphonse had exploited.

Heat touched the angle of her cheekbones as she acknowledged the truth of his words. ‘I know. I’m not sure what you want to do. I don’t know what you want him to call you. Dad? Daddy? Papa?’

In truth he didn’t know either, and that increased his panic. Sunita stepped towards him, and the compassion in her eyes added fuel to the panic-induced anger.

‘But remember, he is only fourteen months old—I don’t think he understands the concept of having a dad.’

The words were a stark reminder of her deception.

‘Amil doesn’t understand or you don’t?’

The harshness of his voice propelled her backwards, and he was glad of it when he saw the compassion vanish from her expression.

‘Both of us. Give me a break, Frederick. Until yesterday it was just Amil and me. Now here you are, and you want to marry me and make Amil the Crown Prince. It’s a lot to take in.’

For an instant he empathised, heard the catch in her voice under the anger. But this was no time for empathy or sympathy. Now all that mattered was the knowledge of what was at stake.

‘Then take it in fast, Sunita. You chose to hide Amil from me and now you need to deal with the consequences of that decision. Most people wouldn’t think they were so bad. I am the one who has missed out on the first fourteen months of my son’s life. My son. I am Amil’s father and you need to deal with it.’

There was silence, broken only by the sound of Amil grizzling, his eyes wide and anxious as he looked up at Sunita.

Oh, hell. Guilt twisted his chest. What was wrong with him? This was his first outing with Amil and he’d allowed it to come to this. Shades of his own father, indeed.

He squatted down beside the baby. ‘I’m sorry, Amil. Daddy’s sorry.’ Standing up, he gestured to the Old Woman’s Shoe. ‘You take him up. I’ll wait here with the buggy. I’ve upset him enough—I don’t want to compound my error.’