“If he’s picking me up, how are you going to get there?”

  “I’ve supplied a car and driver for Filly. I’ll ride with her.”

  After hanging up, I go up to my apartment and change out of my work clothes. After putting on a pair of jeans and jumper, I slide my feet into a pair of loafers, and grab a woolen jacket to keep me warm. The fall air is cooling quickly, and I relish the cozier wardrobe.

  Jones is already waiting for me when I walk out of the palace. “Miss Dupuis.” He opens the back door for me.

  “Don’t be silly,” I tell him. “I’m hardly going to sit in back all by myself.” I move to open the front door instead.

  Once he gets in as well, he says, “Prince Andrew has given me his blessing to take you out on a date.”

  “He has?” Ouch.

  “He said that as long as I don’t move too quickly, he supports our dating.”

  “Are you asking me out then?” I’m suddenly not too keen to go out with him.

  While steering around the circular drive, he says, “Sort of.”

  “What does that mean?”

  He puts on his turn signal and veers into traffic. “It means that I’m asking you out, but not for the reason you might think.”

  “What reason is that?” My head feels heavy with dread.

  “I’m asking you out for the sole purpose of making the prince jealous.” He nods his head sharply one time for emphasis.

  “You’re going to have to explain that to me, Jones,” I tell him. “Why are you trying to make Drew jealous?”

  “Because the man obviously isn’t smart enough to realize that he’s in love with you.”

  He gives me the side eye as though trying to gauge my reaction.

  “I don’t think he’s in love with me, Jones. Honestly, most of the time he can barely tolerate me.”

  “Everything I’ve witnessed indicates the opposite. The man is totally besotted with you.” Turning onto a residential road, he adds, “Everything that happens or is said in this car is completely confidential, but I can assure you, the prince has never talked to another woman the way he talks to you.”

  “How is that?” I shouldn’t encourage this kind of gossip, but I really want to know.

  “Again, without going into detail, he is always very formal with the women he takes out publicly. It’s like he’s acting the way he thinks he should. He’s not very present.”

  “And with me?” My stomach rolls over at the thought that Drew treats me differently than others. It could be hope or dread, I don’t quite know.

  “He laughs with you, he scolds you, he teases you … Around you, Prince Andrew seems like a normal person.”

  “Don’t ever tell him that,” I warn. “In his opinion he’s something very special, indeed.”

  “I don’t think he realizes that people want to relate to him, to feel like he understands who they are. He purposely keeps himself separate from the people he’ll one day rule.”

  Getting back to his original topic, I say, “So you want to date me so that Drew realizes what his true feelings may or may not be for me.” I don’t want to claim that he has feelings, even though I completely accept that I have them for him.

  “I thought we could go out after your meeting at the cottage. We could make a bit of a show of it for the prince’s sake.”

  A slow smile crosses my face. “And would we make a show of it in public, as well?”

  “I’m not sure about that,” he says. “While it might spur on His Highness’s jealousy, it could also work against us. He’s pretty particular about dating women who hold to a high standard of propriety.”

  “As I cannot confirm or deny any feeling that I have for Drew, I can only say that I’ll think about it,” I tell him.

  “I’m at your disposal, miss.”

  Jones pulls through the gates of a large home at the end of the road. “This is the cottage?” I gasp.

  Jones hurriedly gets out of the car and opens my door. As another car pulls in behind us, he suddenly grabs me by the waist and pulls me close to him. My gut reaction is to scream and push him away, but he whispers, “It’s the prince. Now would be the perfect time to decide if you like my plan.”

  My brain is so scrambled, I go on instinct alone. Reaching up to Drew’s chauffeur, I lean into him and nuzzle his cheek. While I’m so close to his ear, I whisper, “I don’t know about this, Jones.”

  He holds me closer and says, “I do.”

  That’s when we hear Drew shout, “What in the hell is going on here?”

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Queen Charlotte

  Stopping to kick a small pile of colorful leaves in her path, Charlotte tells Jacqui, “I was thinking I should have Drew and Agnes work the palace booth at the festival. What do you think about that?”

  Her friend stops walking. “I think your booth would be the busiest in the whole festival. You’ll need to have a lot of extra security.”

  Nodding her head, Charlotte says, “Drew and Agnes were acting a bit odd this morning when I talked to them about the papers.”

  How so?” Jacqui asks.

  “For starters, Agnes suggested that both she and Drew start dating other people, publicly. If that happens it will muddy the waters around them.” Pulling her cardigan closer to ward off a chill, she adds, “The public loves them together now. If they drag others into it, they risk being thought of as insensitive or callous, even.”

  “They’re closer to admitting they have feelings for each other than they’ve ever been, but I agree. There’s no sense in adding any more trouble to the mix.”

  “I heard from Chantelle’s mother after luncheon,” Charlotte announces.

  Jacqui lifts her head in surprise. “And?”

  “She wanted to assure me that she would do whatever it takes to get our children back on a good path.”

  “Ew.”

  “It’s not totally unexpected,” Charlotte says. “Countess Bain is a notorious social climber. She only works on charities sponsored by the crown. Not to mention, she’s been trying to set up her daughter with Drew since they were in nappies.”

  “What did you tell her?”

  “I told her that our children were adults and that if something was meant to be, they’d figure it out for themselves.” Laughing, she adds, “I might have mentioned that I’m not one to meddle in the lives of my children.”

  Snorting loudly, Jacqui says, “Oh, Char, that’s rich.”

  Prince Andrew

  Clearly, Jones has decided not to listen to me and take things slowly with Agnes. He’s currently holding her in his arms right in front of me. Before I can stop myself, I yell, “What in the hell is going on here?”

  Instead of separating, Agnes and Jones stay fused together like there’s been a super glue incident. “What are you so upset about, Drew?” Agnes asks. I thought you gave Jones and me your permission to date.”

  “What’s his first name?” I demand loudly.

  “That’s a very good question,” Agnes says. Turning to my chauffeur, she asks, “What’s your first name?”

  “Ollie,” he tells her. “Or Oliver, if you prefer.” Crap, I didn’t even know that.

  “Well, Ollie,” she says, “you can call me Aggie.” I’m pretty sure I’m about to throw up. Agnes is no more an Aggie than I am. It’s a name for a toothless crone, not a beautiful goddess like her.

  Agnes finally disengages herself from Jones’s arms and asks me, “What do you need to see me about, Drew?”

  I take her arm and pull her toward the house. “I’ll tell you inside.”

  “Where’s Felicity?” she wants to know as she looks behind me.

  “She’ll be here in a little while. She decided to stay at the hospital for a bit longer.”

  “I can’t imagine what she’s going through.” Agnes shakes her head while walking beside me.

  Once we get to the front door, I insert a key and open it. “It’s a brutally unfair situation for all of them.”

  “What does her husband think about you carrying on with his wife?” Talk about a direct hit. It seems that Agnes is no longer acting like an obedient secretary. Which might be because she’s no longer my secretary.

  As such, she might as well know the truth. “Filly and I are nothing more than friends.”

  “I’d reasoned that out for myself, Prince Andrew,” she says frostily. “You treat her with care and respect. You treat her like family.”

  “I’m not following,” I say to her. “Why couldn’t I be having a torrid affair with her and still treat her like family?”

  “Because you treat the women you date like accessories, not real people.” Yikes. That was a bit much. Although I do unhappily admit there is some truth to it.

  “How do you figure?” I’m not only hurt, but I’m also mad.

  “In the short time I’ve worked with you, you’ve gone out with four different women. The dates have ranged from once, in the case of Violet Humphrey, to four times with Chantelle. The notes you send are practically identical, as are the photographs that appear of you and your dates in the news.” She brushes her hands together. “To be succinct, you are a boring dater.”

  “That’s uncalled for,” I tell her hotly. “I’m not a boring dater, I’m merely a man looking for the right woman. And, might I add, I’m doing so under a microscope.”

  “Boring women are everywhere,” she says.

  “Look Agnes, just because my dates aren’t hot and heavy and full of public displays of affection, does not mean that they don’t have their moments.”

  “It’s none of my concern, Andrew. I was merely pointing out that I’d already deduced Felicity is your friend and nothing more.”

  Fighting with Agnes over my lackluster social life isn’t going to get us anywhere, so I say, “Felicity is the reason I asked to talk to you.”

  “What about her?” Agnes sits down on a settee in the parlor.

  “Her husband is having surgery.”

  “I believe I already knew that.”

  “Yes, well, I just found out something about the surgeon that makes me uncomfortable.”

  “What, is he a drunk? A philanderer? Does he owe money to a gang of bookies?”

  “He’s your father,” I tell her. “I met him at the hospital today and he did not seem pleased to meet me.”

  “So? Who cares if my dad likes you or not?”

  “Are you saying he doesn’t like me?”

  “How would I know? We’ve barely talked about you.”

  Pacing in front of her, I demand, “You mean in the weeks that you worked for me you didn’t mention me to your father?”

  I shake my head. “I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but the nondisclosure agreements I signed forbid me to speak about anything personal regarding the royal family.”

  “If you didn’t say anything, then why doesn’t he like me?” I realize that I sound pathetically insecure.

  “It might have something to do with our most recent spectacle in the press. If I were to guess, I’d say my dad feels protective about the media storm you’ve dragged me into.”

  “I personally carried you home from Duvall the night you fainted, and I championed you last night at the symphony. How in the world can he be mad about that?”

  “You really are clueless, aren’t you?” she asks while folding her arms. Then, like she’s talking to a child, she slowly enunciates, “If not for you, I wouldn’t have been in the papers at all.”

  “Be that as it may,” I tell her, “you chose to work for me and with that comes a certain degree of risk.” Again, I sound like the prince of darkness, but it’s true. Working for the royal family can be like playing a game of Russian Roulette.

  She sighs deeply. “Why do you care if my dad likes you? What difference could it possibly make to you?”

  “Your dad is performing Sebastian’s surgery. I don’t want to put my friend’s husband at risk in any way because of your father’s feelings toward me.”

  Agnes jumps to her feet. “Are you high?” Well, that’s a bit of an unexpected question. Before I can assure her that I’m drug free, she adds, “My father is the best brain surgeon in the country. He’s not about to let his personal feelings affect his desire to save a life.”

  “I’ve heard he’s the best, and I’m truly not trying to cast any aspersions on his abilities, I just need you to assure him that I’m not doing anything inappropriate to you.”

  “I see.” She starts tapping her foot like she’s keeping time to a silent tempo. “So, you don’t want me to tell my dad about the times you’ve kissed me and then told me how nothing could ever happen between us?”

  “I would be pleased if you wouldn’t tell him that.” She has a way of making me feel like the turd I am. I’ve treated her so poorly, and she deserves better. Yet here we are, with me begging for mercy.

  “Consider it done. I will assure my father you are nothing but my ex-boss and that you mean nothing at all to me. Is that all?”

  “Agnes,” I take a step closer to her. “You see what the press is like. You can’t tell me you’d really want to court more attention by dating me.”

  “I want nothing to do with you,” she growls. “Now, if there’s nothing else, Oliver and I have plans this evening. I’ll make sure it’s in a very public spot so that the press will know there’s nothing going on between the two of us.” She points between us so quickly her hand is a blur.

  I can’t let her leave like this. “Agnes …”

  She turns around so fast she almost knocks a vase of flowers to the floor. “What, Andrew? What now? I’m doing everything I can to stay out of your way. Why can’t you just leave me alone?” She quickly adds, “I’ll tell my dad you’re a real prince and that I admire you above all else. Is that what you want?”

  “How I wish that were true.”

  Instead of answering, she turns around and storms out of the house. In an odd turn of events, the only thing I feel good about now is Agnes’s dad. Clearly, the man is a professional and I was a ninny to accuse him of being anything but.

  Even though Dr. Dupuis is the reason I asked Agnes to meet me, he isn’t the only reason I wanted to see her. I love seeing Agnes. I love spending time with her, even when she’s yelling at me. Unfortunately, once again, she left mad because I couldn’t figure out how to appease everyone and still keep her in my life.

  Not to mention, she’s going to take all that built up passion and go out with another man.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Amelia

  “You have to trust me, Ralph. The prince may seem a bit full of himself, but can you really blame him?” Amelia asks her husband.

  “Of course I can blame him. Who else would I blame?”

  Placing the roast on the dining room table, she answers, “If anyone has a right to be a little uppity, surely it’s the future king.”

  “Why are you making excuses for the man?” Ralph demands as he stabs the serving fork into the brisket.

  “Because Agnes has strong feelings for him. She may not be vocalizing them, but a mother knows.”

  “You would be okay with our child being with a man who makes a public spectacle of her?” he demands.

  “If she chooses to be with the prince, there would be no keeping her relationship from becoming a spectacle.”

  “If Agnes were in a relationship with Prince Andrew, what would happen to her career?”

  “Whatever she decides would happen.” Handing her husband a bowl of roasted potatoes, Amelia says, “Look, if Agnes and Andrew go the distance, then our daughter’s profession would ultimately be to support her husband and her country.”

  Ralph opens his mouth to respond, but before he can, Amelia adds, “And before you tell me that your daughter is too good to stay home and take care of her family, you might want to ask yourself if she’s too good to be a queen.”

  “I thought you’d forgiven me for that comment, Amelia.”

  “I have,” she tells him. “But I’d still like you to envision all the wonderful things Agnes could do as a royal. And if that’s what she chooses, who are we to tell her it’s not the right thing?”

  Agnes

  Of all the high-handed, absurd, stupidly idiotic … Come on, words. I need to shred Drew right now. How could he even think that my dad wouldn’t do his best for a patient just because the man had the misfortune of being connected to him?

  When I get to the car, I give the wheel a sharp kick. “Let’s go, Ollie,” I yell. “I need to get out of here.”

  Drew walks out the front door but he doesn’t make a move to come after me. How can I feel the way I do about him and still want to pummel him every time I see him? He is not only fun to be with, but he’s also sexy as hell, while at the same time being the most infuriatingly obtuse person in the world.

  Jones puts the car into gear, but before he can drive off, the telephone rings. Shifting into park, he stops to pick up the phone. “Hello?”

  I can’t hear what’s being said on the other line, but I quickly guess who he’s talking to when he says, “Yes, sir. I can be back here in an hour to pick you up.” He sounds perfectly professional, if not a touch disappointed.

  I yank the phone out of Jones’s hand and demand, “Are you kidding me right now? You know that Oliver and I have plans. Have the other driver take you home.”

  “I don’t see why I should change my normal routine based on your social calendar, Agnes. Jones is my chauffeur, and as such, I would like him to pick me up in an hour.”

  “Doesn’t the man deserve a night off?” I shout.

  “I’ve hired him to do a job, Agnes.”

  “You’re the one who doesn’t want to be tied to me, Andrew. All I’m doing is moving on so your precious press will realize I’m not a player in this charade. You’d think that you would support my dating Ollie.”

  “Perhaps that’s true, but I don’t support it.”

  Drew is the most maddening, exasperating, annoying … I turn my attention to Jones. “I’ll settle this.”