I’m hit with a surge of excitement. My reprieve is at hand. “You think I should go home, right?”

  She shakes her head. “I don’t.” Crap. “Drew is the heir, and as such he’s had a much harder time with the press than his siblings. He does everything to stay out of their way, but they’re determined to find out whatever they can about him. If they don’t find anything, they’re happy to invent it.”

  “But I’m nothing more than his secretary,” I tell her. “He would never be interested in me socially.”

  “Are you interested in him?” the queen asks.

  Luckily, I don’t tell my regent that her son is a total babe. Accurate as that statement might be, it wouldn’t be very professional of me. “No, ma’am, I’m not.”

  The queen studies me closely before saying, “I’ll do everything in my power to keep you from expiring from boredom.”

  “Drew said I couldn’t even leave this apartment.” I sound whiny.

  With a slow nod of her head, Queen Charlotte replies, “While I trust our staff with most things, I wouldn’t put it past someone lower on the food chain to be enticed into making a hefty paycheck by talking about you.” She crosses her ankles and sits back. “I think Drew is right. You should stay right where you are.”

  I want to cry, but of course I can’t. Instead, I tell her, “As long as I have my work to keep me busy.” Lies, all lies.

  “As to that, I’m afraid Drew has already told the press that you left for vacation to St. Tropez. As such, we can hardly have you making calls on his behalf.”

  “I could use another name.” I’m not a person who sits idle very well. There is no way I can be stuck in these rooms without something significant like work to keep me busy.

  Queen Charlotte shakes her head. “I’m sorry, dear, but we can’t take that chance.”

  I can’t let her walk out of here without getting something. “I will go mad, Your Highness. I need to spend time outdoors for my mental health.”

  She nods her head. “You can do so in the evening. Say, after ten? We’re on a skeleton staff from nine until six in the morning. Between that and the darkness, your presence should remain undetected. Just make sure to use the back stairs.”

  I suppose skulking around like a vampire is better than nothing, but I’m still not thrilled about it. “I don’t know where the back stairs are. I’m not familiar with this part of the palace.”

  Queen Charlotte stands up. “I’ll have Drew show you. After all, it’s his fault you’re stuck here.”

  I’m not certain that spending more time with my boss is a good idea, but the need to go outside supersedes those concerns. After the queen leaves, I say a quick prayer this whole debacle will be over soon.

  All we need is for Chantelle to play her part, and everything should go smoothly.

  Chapter Twenty

  Queen Charlotte

  After leaving Agnes’s rooms, Charlotte walks down the hall to her daughter Sophie’s apartment. “Mum, what are you doing here?” Sophie asks once she opens the door.

  “I thought I should stop by to tell you that Agnes will be staying here for a bit longer than we previously thought.”

  With a smirk, Sophie asks, “So Drew and Agnes are going to have a torrid affair right here under your nose?”

  “I hope so,” Charlotte says while pushing past her daughter.

  “You can’t be serious, Mum. I was just kidding.” Sophie’s brow furrows in concern. “Why in the world would you condone something like that?”

  “Agnes isn’t staying here because she and Drew are sleeping together. She’s staying here because your brother is going to continue to see that Bain girl, thereby trying to keep the press from speculating about his relationship with his secretary.”

  Inhaling deeply, Sophie says, “I’m lost. If Drew and Chantelle are going to keep dating, why do you want Drew and Agnes to have an affair?”

  Opening the curtain to get a better look at the gardens, Charlotte says, “Because I think they’re a good match. Your brother needs a strong woman who doesn’t care that he’s a prince. I think Agnes might be that person.”

  “You want him to marry his secretary?”

  “Only if he loves her,” the queen tells her daughter. “But he’s going to need to spend time with her to figure that out.”

  “Okay. Why are you telling me all of this?”

  “Because, darling.” Charlotte reaches out to take her daughter’s hand. “I want you to check in on Agnes when you have a chance and try to discover what her true feelings are for Drew. I’d like to know as soon as possible, if she’s for or against a match with your brother.”

  “And if she’s not opposed?”

  Charlotte smiles deviously, “Then we’ll have some work to do.” Tenderly, the queen adds, “Once I see to your brother’s happiness, my dear, I will focus all my attentions on getting you settled. I promise.”

  Prince Andrew

  Lunch is starting to feel like it’s going to last an entire week.

  Over soup, Chantelle says, “So, your secretary, huh? Were you sleeping with her the whole time we were dating?”

  “Excuse me?” I do my best to sound affronted. “Agnes and I have nothing more than a working relationship.”

  “The picture in the newspaper tells a different story.” Her eyes narrow to slits.

  After wiping my mouth, I put down my napkin. “I would be concerned about anyone who passed out after taking a fall.”

  “I suppose there might be some truth to that.” She doesn’t sound convinced. “But Agnes Dupuis is quite beautiful for a person of her station.”

  Irritation bristles. “And what station might that be?”

  Looking up at me she bats her eyelashes. “She is one of the working class, is she not?”

  “What does that have to do with how she looks?” I demand.

  Chantelle sighs deeply. “She’s not one of us, Drew. She’s common.”

  There is nothing in this world common about Agnes, but if Chantelle feels this way, perhaps everyone else will too. After all, it’s the very logic I’m using to try to squash the attraction I feel for her.

  “I assume you’re going to the Holloways’ ball tonight.” Chantelle pushes her plate aside.

  “It’s on my calendar.”

  “Then we should go together. You can pick me up at eight.”

  “Yes, well, I don’t think …”

  Chantelle shoots me the evil eye. “What don’t you think? Are we or are we not supposed to look like we’re dating?” she hisses.

  How did I ever think this woman was bland? The reason I didn’t want to continue our association was because I deemed her company boring. She’s anything but. She’s uppity, conniving, and if I’m not mistaken, jealous of Agnes. She’s done a superior job of hiding her true nature up until now. “Going out together twice in one day will have tongues wagging more than they already are,” I tell her.

  “But they won’t be wagging about you and your secretary, which—tell me if I’m wrong—is the point of this farce between us.”

  “I will stay home this evening and send my regrets,” I decide.

  “The countess will be infuriated.” She glares at me like she wants to see my head on a pike.

  “As my parents will both be there, I’m sure she’ll get over it quickly. Now, I think it’s time we depart.” I stand up to pull out her chair for her. Before we leave, I remind her, “You aren’t allowed to speak to the press regarding our relationship, Chantelle. Please remember that.”

  “Or what?” she asks, not even trying to sound non-combative.

  “Or this will be our last date,” I tell her plainly.

  “I don’t think you’re in a position to make that call, Andrew. Don’t forget the terms of my assistance. I’m the one who will end this relationship, not you.”

  “Not if you don’t play by the rules, Chantelle.”

  Her posture stiffens to the point where she looks like she’s strapped to a board. With my hand at her waist, I lead her out of the restaurant. The press once again swarms us.

  They’ve clearly taken note of my date’s changed demeanor, because someone yells out, “Did you have a fight?”

  “Chantelle, are you unwell?” someone else wants to know.

  “Prince Andrew, are you and Miss Bain through?”

  The questions keep coming rapid-fire and Chantelle is showing no emotion whatsoever. Neither is she answering them. Apparently, I’m not the only one making rules here. I lean down and whisper in her ear, “Smile and assure them you’re fine.”

  She doesn’t say a word, so I push my way through the crowd, pulling her behind me. Once we’re safely in the car, I demand, “What in the hell was that all about?”

  “You told me I wasn’t allowed to speak to the press.” She crosses her arms in a belligerent fashion.

  “Chantelle, it seems that this arrangement isn’t going to work out as I’d hoped …”

  She doesn’t let me finish. “Relax, Drew. You can’t expect me to like what we’re doing. Up until yesterday, I thought we might have a real future together. You’ve got to give me time to adjust.”

  “You agreed to help me. So, what’s it going to be? Are you bent on making me pay for not feeling about you the way you claim to feel about me, or are you going to play nice and get your revenge by breaking up with me when the time is right?”

  “Oh, I’ll get my revenge.” My blood runs cold. She quickly adds, “Please drop me off at Marché Carré, I have an appointment with my stylist.”

  I hit the intercom and tell Jones where our first stop will be. Trying to make nice, I tell Chantelle, “I’m sure a shopping trip will have you feeling like your old self in no time.”

  “I’m sure it will,” she replies with an edge. “But being that I’m shopping for our future dates, I’m guessing you’ll want to pay?” I’m suddenly worried new clothes might only be part of the fun she plans on having at my expense.

  “Put your purchases on hold. I’ll send someone to pay for them and deliver them to your house,” I tell her. This is the only way I can think of to limit the amount of money she spends. If I give her carte blanche, I have no doubt she’ll set out to break the bank.

  Jones pulls over in front of the department store. When he opens the door, Chantelle scoots over to get out. But before doing so, she turns to me and says, “Everything is going to work out fine, Drew. You can trust me. I only have your best interests at heart.”

  I don’t believe her for a minute. Chantelle only has her best interests at heart, and I’m afraid that I might become collateral damage.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Amelia

  Checking her phone, Amelia discovers one voice message. It’s from Agnes telling her that she won’t be home for several days. There’s no word from her husband.

  Opening her laptop, she looks for emails. Nothing.

  Her anger multiplies. Ralph is doing nothing to assure her that he isn’t the rat she currently thinks he is. She wonders if she’s been wrong all these years, thinking that he appreciated her.

  Leaving Jacqui’s guest room, she walks down the stairs in search of her friend. When she finds her, she asks, “Do you want to go shopping with me?”

  Jacqui stands up from her desk, and declares, “I would love that. My eyes are nearly crossing from answering all this correspondence.”

  “Are you working on anything special?” Amelia wants to know.

  “I’m chairing the Foliage Festival this year. Several of our regular vendors have backed out and I’m scratching my head trying to figure out how we can entice new ones. We don’t have much time.”

  “You’d think people would be lining up to have their wares sold at that event,” Amelia says.

  “The problem is that we charge a significant booth fee. The festival is a charity-driven event, and as such, smaller vendors often can’t make enough to cover their participation.”

  “Didn’t you say this year’s charity was Shepherd’s Home?” Amelia asks.

  “I did. Prince Andrew is giving the opening speech.” Jacqui takes off her glasses and picks up her purse.

  “Might the royal kitchen sponsor a booth? They could sell some of the queen’s favorites. I bet people would pay handsomely for that.”

  “Amelia, that’s a wonderful idea.” Jacqui declares as she stands up. “I’ll talk to Charlotte about it and see what she says.” As the friends walk out of the library, Jacqui adds, “This is the kind of out-of-the-box thinking we need. I don’t suppose you’d be interested in joining my committee?”

  “I would love to.” Amelia tells her. “After all, I have a huge opening in my schedule now that I won’t be taking care of Ralph.”

  Agnes

  It’s five o’clock and the only person I’ve seen since this morning has been Queen Charlotte. Someone came up from the kitchen and left groceries outside my door. When I answered the knock there was no one there.

  I attempted to watch television, before trying to read a book, but I can’t seem to focus on anything but my annoyance at being stuck here. A knock on the door jolts me out of my reverie. “Who is it?” I call out aggressively.

  “It’s Drew,” comes the quick reply. “Can I come in?”

  I jump up from the sofa to open the door. “Where have you been all day?” I demand. “I’ve been bored senseless.”

  He walks in looking more haggard than I’ve ever seen him. “I was working in the office, and then I had lunch with Chantelle.”

  While heading back to my perch on the couch, I ask, “How did it go?”

  “Not well.” He sits down next to me. “I have the distinct impression Chantelle is not going to make my life easy while we pretend to continue our association.”

  Bitter laughter bursts out of me. “You can’t possibly be surprised.”

  “Why do say that?” he wants to know.

  “Because you broke up with her. You can’t think that didn’t chafe some.”

  Reaching to pick up the broken half of a cookie sitting on the coffee table, he says, “I break up with everyone after the third date. She couldn’t have possibly thought she would be different.”

  “Every woman who goes out with you has hopes that she’ll be different. That she’ll be the one.” I remind him, “You do have to marry someday.”

  He stares at me like he’s looking at something under a microscope. When he finally opens his mouth to speak, he says, “I have five other siblings. The empire will live on no matter what I do.”

  “It’s none of my business, but being that I’m stuck in the middle of this, I wouldn’t mind knowing what you’re waiting for. Surely there’s been some woman you’ve cared enough for to see her beyond three times.”

  “If there had been,” he says, “I would have done so.”

  I’m getting the impression he’s done with this conversation, so I tell him, “Your mother came by this afternoon. She told me that I can go out into the garden after ten p.m.”

  “What in the world are you going to do out there at that time of night?”

  “Breathe fresh air, run in circles, howl at the moon,” I suggest. “I just need to be outside.”

  “Be careful.”

  “You have to go with me and show me where the back stairs are. The queen made it clear I was to stay out of sight.”

  “I go to bed at ten,” Drew says.

  “Well, I usually go to bed at nine, but being that I’m stuck here, I’m going to go outdoors when I’m allowed to. If I’m going to stay up, so are you.” I probably shouldn’t talk to my boss this way, but right now I’m so frustrated, I don’t care if he fires me. At least then I’d be able to leave.

  “Is that right?” He doesn’t look mad, he looks intrigued.

  “Please, Drew. I haven’t even been here for twenty-four hours and I’m already feeling stir crazy.”

  “I’ll show you the way tonight, and then you will be able to manage on your own after that.”

  “Thank you,” I tell him sincerely.

  “What do you say we play a game while we wait for our supper to arrive?”

  “You might want to check your schedule. I think you have plans tonight.”

  “I cancelled them. I’d much rather stay in. Now what game shall we play?”

  “Monopoly?” I ask.

  He stands up and walks to the door. “I have that one in my apartment. I’ll be right back.”

  Drew and I spend the next two hours playing my favorite childhood game. We’re so absorbed in our battle for board domination that we both startle when we hear the knock on the door.

  “Our food has arrived.” He stands up while asking, “Do you want to eat here or at the table?”

  “I’m comfortable here.”

  He walks to the door and takes the cart from the server. “I’ve got it, Violet. Thank you.”

  He wheels the cart over to me. “What can I get you to drink?”

  “I can get the drinks.”

  As I move to stand up, he motions for me to stay put. “Sit down, Agnes. I’m going to serve you tonight.”

  “I’ll just have some water.”

  He goes to the kitchen and brings back two bottles of water and sets them down on the coffee table before taking the covers off our food. “Yum.” My stomach gurgles loudly as the delicious aroma fills the room.

  “Beef bourguignon,” he says. “My favorite.”

  If you don’t count the groans of appreciation, and subsequent lip smacking, we eat in silence. I’m so stuffed by the time I relinquish my fork, I’m afraid I’m going to fall asleep again.

  Guessing my concern, Drew says, “Go ahead and nod off. I’ll wake you at ten.”

  Not even considering how very unprofessional Drew’s and my relationship is becoming, I lean back and close my eyes before taking my second nap of the day.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Queen Charlotte

  “Can you believe the dress Chantelle Bain is wearing tonight?” Charlotte whispers in her husband’s ear.