Heirs Book Two: American Lady (4 page)

“We want a quiet wedding as soon as
possible.”

“Well, I guess it’s not for the usual
reasons at your age,” Paddy chuckled, while Nikki winced. “You’ve
come here for my blessing, as the head of the family. But I have a
favor to ask of you first, Dominique. You’ve waited this long to
marry De Angelis, I ask that you wait another few months before you
announce the engagement. Give me time to arrange for an annulment
for De Angelis from his former wife so that the two of you can
marry in the Catholic Church as good and true Catholics. That way
we won’t be alienating our strong Catholic demographic.”

It was exactly the same as last time, she
thought furiously. When she had come to see Paddy he had talked her
out of marrying Lorenzo and into moving to France.

“What makes you think you can arrange an
annulment?” she argued, tempted despite her misgivings.

“Was De Angelis even married in the eyes of
the Church? If he didn’t have a Catholic wedding the first time
around, we’re half way there. Dominique, if you wait until, say
July at the latest to announce the engagement, I will give you my
unconditional blessing on the union. Think about Declan’s political
future. How can a few more months hurt?”

She had Lyric on her back about cutting
costs, her last fashion show had been a massive flop and although
she had stopped dreaming about Jean-Luc, that just meant her
nightmares had changed topic. Her life was a grade-A mess and the
only thing holding her together at the moment was the thought of
marrying Lorenzo.

But the wily devil was twisting her around
his shrunken little finger again. She thought of her accountant’s
reproachful face and the mounting debts that might horrify even
Lorenzo. Well, if the scheming old man wanted to buy her time, he
was rich enough to do it.

“There’s the matter of Declan’s college fees
to start with,” she said, “And my overdraft. Oh, and if I’ve got
your blessing you can throw me a proper engagement party with all
the trimmings come July.”

Paddy threw back his wizened head, revealing
a throat as thin, scrawny and creased as last year’s Thanksgiving
turkey and gave a cackle of mirth. “By all that’s holy, that’s not
the first bargain you’ve ever haggled out of me. It’s a done deal.
Now go and send Jimmy in here with my wheelchair and ask Barbara if
she’s trying to starve me to death. I’m good and ready for my
dinner.”

Maixent hauled his body out of the pool. Water rolled
off the sleek planes of his back and chest. Then he lent down and
gave Leigh a hand out of the water. Servants hurried over with
fresh towels and robes.

“I’ve missed our swims,” he said, wrapping a
robe around himself.

Since returning from New York Leigh had
excused herself from the early morning exercise program she had
shared with Maixent and Thiérry. Sweating bodies and skimpy bathing
suits were a fingernail width away from intimacy after her last
encounter with Thiérry.

“Well I couldn’t let you down like your
other exercise partner. And how is Thiérry recuperating?” She tried
to keep her voice casual. Maixent and Thiérry had taken a couple of
days to go snowboarding in the Alps, trying out the new boards they
had brought back from New York. Thiérry had twisted his ankle,
returning to St Benezet on crutches with Maixent insisting he take
a week off and stay at home to convalesce.

“Grumpily!”

“Busy day planned?” she turned the
conversation to safer topics.

“I’m wearing my Minister of Sports hat today
for talks about this year’s Recortadore Carnivale. But you know I
always start the day better when I can get in a swim or jog
first.”

They seated themselves at the glass table
where breakfast was already laid out for them. Leigh waved away a
servant and poured them both freshly squeezed orange juice.

A stack of flapjacks with maple syrup, hash
browns and bacon on the side was laid out on the table. Maixent
gulped his hot black coffee.

“You picked up some bad habits at Princeton.
If the palace staff didn’t love you so much you’d never get
Hyacinthe to cook an American breakfast,” Leigh remarked. “It must
cut up his French pride dreadfully to lower his standards.”

“With comments like that, Hyacinthe is more
likely to cut you up for breakfast,” he laughed. “By the way, I’m
thinking of inviting Charley Cassidy for a visit next month. Do you
remember, she’s the girl that I was partnered with for the
Valentine Polo Ball? It turns out she’s the daughter of former
President Cassidy and an avid photographer. She and Aurelie got on
really well and she’s interested in photographing Altobello.”
Maixent kept his eyes cemented to his plate as his ears turned
bright red.

Leigh was amused at his discomfiture and yet
she also felt a heartstring ping with her first jealousy over
Maixent. He had dated many stunning beauties, some of them titled
Europeans, some American. But he’d never asked her permission to
invite a girl to the palace before. If they had visited the palace
it was strictly in secret.

She had noticed his attention to Charley
Cassidy at the Valentine Polo Ball. The two of them had been
clinched on the dance floor most of the night before she had
claimed him to escort her home for the evening. To see her son
paired with Nikki’s daughter had caused her a momentary jolt that
evening.

A niggle of uneasiness lodged inside her
stomach. The odds that these two would ever meet were higher than
Aurelie inheriting the Dragonblood Throne because after that
bizarre and terrifying night in Paris nearly thirty years ago, she
and Nikki Cassidy had stringently avoided each other’s social
circles.

Now it seemed that some spark had been
ignited between Charley and Maixent. She needed time to consider
whether there was any danger in the situation. If she forbade him
to see Charley again, there would be questions. Plus, no one knew
better than she that forbidden fruit was twice as desirable.

“Why don’t you invite her for Easter then,
when Aurelie will be visiting for the spring break?” Leigh
suggested. “I’ll mention it to Henri if you like.” Relations
between Maixent and Henri had been frosty since Thiérry’s
snowboarding accident which had just confirmed the danger of the
sport in Henri’s eyes.

The young prince rose from the table to give
her a huge hug of appreciation. “She might have family commitments
herself over Easter though,” Maixent said doubtfully.

“Just ask her. She’ll let you know if she
can’t make it,” Leigh smiled.

“Thanks, maman. I’d better dash. I have an
appointment in twenty minutes.”

Behind her bland exterior her thoughts were
busy. Exactly how well had he and Charley gotten to know each
other? If Maixent was inviting Charley to stay at the palace, then
Leigh was convinced he had serious intentions. How ironical that
her son should be attracted to Nikki’s daughter.

Leigh drummed her fingers edgily. She had
put that terrifying night so firmly out of her mind that it seemed
no more than a nightmare when she recalled it. She and Nikki had
both been so young and foolhardy. Merde! What would the world think
if it ever found out about that incident? Leigh shuddered. But of
course no one knew. Nikki had never breathed a word and Leigh
certainly wouldn’t. The secret of Jean-Luc’s mysterious
disappearance had to stay buried. Luckily the Marchessini servants
had simply thrown up their hands in disgust and told each other
they’d never expected him to stick the job out.

Leigh gave herself a mental shake. I should
stop being melodramatic and scaring myself. Still, of all the women
in the world, Leigh would rather that Maixent was inviting anyone
other than Charley Cassidy to stay at the palace.

* * *

Maixent felt his attention drifting.
Dreamily he looked up from the sheaf of papers on his desk which
Anouk had delivered for his next meeting. From his desk he could
see the Mediterranean like a huge blue swimming pool nestled at the
bottom of the hill. There were several yachts anchored in the bay.
The sun was a golden ball in the sky. Spring was in the air.

He stirred restlessly, then forced his
attention back to proposals for this year’s Recortadore Carnivale,
including the running of the bulls for later in the summer. It was
one of his duties as Minister for Sports to oversee such
high-profile events that drew in enormous numbers of tourists.

This year’s hot topic for the experienced
committee members who were coordinating logistics was how to
improve safety for the running of the bulls event. Last year two
people had sustained serious enough injuries to be taken to
hospital. Maixent knew his suggestion that they put a limit on the
number of participants this year would be passionately debated at
the forthcoming meeting. Still, in the grand scheme of governing
the kingdom it was a small decision.

Maix sighed. Of course, that was why his
father had given him the portfolio – to make him feel that he was
contributing to the administration of the kingdom while in fact he
just rubber-stamped decisions. Mutinously he buzzed his secretary
and asked her to get Police Commissioner Beaucopas into his
office.

“Sorry to disturb you, Gilles,” Maixent
apologized when the downcast-looking Commissioner appeared. “I just
wanted to find out if there had been any developments on Operation
Aut vincere aut moeurs?” That was the code name they had given to
the Mafia investigative operation Beaucopas had launched under
Maixent’s authority.

The commissioner shook his head.

“Nothing out of the ordinary has shown up so
far, your Highness. Believe me I will be the first to contact you
when there is something to report.”

“Well, at least it’s not bad news.” Maixent
tried not to sound disappointed. He hoped this operation was not
going to fizzle into the same kind of non-event as his other work.
He paused to glance out the window. “One other thing, Gilles. The
palace may be having a private guest over Easter and I would like
to keep the event as low key as possible. No paparazzi to get
close.”

Maixent was worried that Charley’s arrival
in St Benezet would attract media attention. Easter was also a very
family affair for the Catholic Marchessinis. He hoped the thought
of spending time with his family wouldn’t scare her.

“I’ll order an extra contingent of Swiss
plainclothesmen for Easter. I’ll liaise with the palace press
secretary if needed as well.”

“Good. Thank you, Gilles.”

The Minister bowed at the dismissal and left
the office.

Maixent felt a stir of excitement. Easter
was barely weeks away. He unlocked a private drawer in his desk,
pulling out Charley’s postcard.

The photoshoot went well and I know my
editor will be pleased. Windsurfing at Tobago is brilliant and so
is the sun. The only thing not so brilliant is my woeful lack of
skill.

How are those rocks going?

He smiled at her corny comments. He still
had a stack of routine files sitting on his desk that needed his
attention. Instead he pulled out a postcard that featured a close
up of Altobello’s pebbled beaches which his assistant Anouk had
scoured the little tabac stores around St Benezet for on her boss’s
instructions. He picked up his pen.

Glad to hear you had fun in Tobago. Now come
and have fun in Altobello. Why don’t you fly in for Easter? The
flowers will be out in force but the tourists won’t be. I have no
official engagements over the break, although we normally go en
famille to Mass at St Georges Cathedral.

Think about it and let me know if that’s a
suitable time so I can make security arrangements. I know Aurelie
wants to see you again. And so do I. The rocks are waiting...

Maixent read the card over, chewing the top
of his gold fountain pen. Was it too stilted? Should he cross out
the reference to Aurelie? He didn’t want to sound either too cool
or too overzealous. It was difficult for a prince to develop
relationships because the press were always sniffing around. The
private time he’d spent with Charley in Florida and New York, away
from the paparazzi’s prying eyes, had been an unexpected luxury,
like savoring a quadruple choc shake while he was in training.

Their time in Florida had been as
comfortable as wearing his favorite pair of parachute pants because
so many of her experiences mirrored his – in America the Cassidys
were royalty. He had dated French girls and American girls, but
Charley was the only one who shared his French-American background.
Was that why he felt so comfortable around her? The easy
familiarity between them had sparked into a sizzling chemistry at
the Valentine Ball.

Of course it was early days in their
relationship, but he knew he wanted to take it to the next level.
Only, as a prince, he always had to keep in mind that anyone who
became involved in his life would have to accept his royal
existence and be accepted by the Altobesque people. Would they
receive another American consort with kindness? And did Charley
want to go back to the fishbowl existence she’d had living at the
White House?

Before the anticipated difficulties could
change his mind he slipped the card inside an envelope and wrote
her name on it.

Then he sighed and allowed himself a few
minutes to relive staring into her luminous eyes and wanting to
crush the soft tremble of her luscious lips beneath his mouth as
they danced Valentine’s night away. Look out, Miss Charley Cassidy.
Once you’re here in the privacy of the palace, away from prying
eyes, we won’t have to be so cautious about revealing our
feelings.

Carefully Charley perused the row of bottles on the
glass shelf in front of her. Her hand hovered over first one and
then another, stopping to lift a delicate stopper to sniff a
fragrance. Still she couldn’t make up her mind. What did she
feel
like tonight?