The Crown Jewels Boxed Set (A Crown Jewels Romantic Comedy Series)

by Melanie Summers

  “It’s going to be just fine. I was raised here; no one lost me. In fact, I can't think of a safer place to raise a child.”

  “Yes, I suppose that’s true.” She sighs and lays down. “But it’s not exactly a normal place to grow up, is it? There are no other neighbourhood children to play with. She’ll end up being a bit of an odd duck, won’t she?”

  “He can play with your nieces and nephews all the time. And someday we’ll add one or two more to the pack.” My eyes flutter, and I give in to how heavy my lids feel.

  “But where will the baby even go to school?”

  Oh, Christ. I guess we’re going to have this conversation right now, aren’t we? “He'll have the finest tutors until he's old enough to go off to Eton.”

  Tessa gasps audibly. “Boarding school? My baby is not going to boarding school! She will stay at home with us until she’s at least twenty.”

  I stifle a yawn. “Do we really have to decide this now? At three in the morning when you’ve just woken from a nightmare? We do have about fifteen years to sort out the issue of boarding school.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. There’s just so much to worry about when you’re having a child. I mean, how do we not fuck this up entirely?”

  “We will, like every parent to go before us. We’ll just try not to fuck him up too badly.”

  “Well, that hardly makes me feel better!”

  “Tessa. We’ll be fine. If Lars and Nina can raise five of them, surely we can raise one.”

  “Lars is literally a rocket scientist.”

  “But Nina’s the one doing most of the childrearing, and she’s not exactly the brightest bulb in the chandelier. Yet, their kids seem to be turning out just fine.”

  “That’s because they live in a normal house with normal neighbourhood children to play with and they go to a normal school.”

  “I’m sensing a theme here. Listen, I promise we’ll do whatever we can to make sure our child has a normal, yet extraordinary upbringing, allowing him to be both prepared for ruling the kingdom and managing to fit in with your relatives. But first, for God’s sake, can we get some sleep? I’m so tired.”

  Tessa turns off the light, then sighs loudly again.

  I roll over, then put one arm around her and give her a kiss on the cheek. “It’ll be okay, Tessa. I was raised here, and look how I turned out.”

  “Umm…” she says, teasing me.

  “Very funny. Go to sleep, Mrs. Langdon.”

  “Yes, sorry. I will. It’s just that I’m worried about raising a baby here among two hundred staff members and all the delivery people in and out all the time. How do we really know none of them is a pedo? I mean, how do we really know that?”

  I open my eyes again. “All staff members are carefully vetted before they’re hired. I promise, there are no pedos in the palace.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I just do. Besides, the baby will be here in our private residence. There certainly aren’t two hundred staff members in and out of here. Plus, the baby will have his own bodyguard assigned to him.”

  “What if—”

  “Who won’t be a pedo, I promise. We can hire a woman if you feel more comfortable, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Feel better?”

  “Yes. Thank you. Sorry to wake you like that.” She gives me a long kiss on the lips.

  “Oh, that was quite the nice kiss.” I’m suddenly much more awake than I was a few seconds ago. “Does that mean—”

  “No, it doesn’t.”

  “Righto. Off to sleep.”

  ****

  “Vincent, could you come into my office for a minute, please?” I say into the intercom.

  “Yes, Prince Arthur.”

  A moment later, Vincent walks in, seating himself across from my desk. “What can I do for you?”

  “I’ve been thinking about beefing up security. I’d like to have criminal record checks redone on all staff members, including all delivery drivers and contractors who service the palace.”

  Vincent pauses slightly, which is what he does when he thinks I’ve gone off my nut. Then he gives me a single nod and says, “Very good, sir. Although, this will prove rather expensive.”

  “Doesn’t matter. Nothing is more important than safety, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “Of course, Your Highness.” He jots down something on his notepad, probably something like ‘today’s insane request from Prince Arthur—ridiculous new security measures.’ I’d like to see his notebook one day...or maybe it’s better if I don’t.

  “Oh, and I’d like to change our guest policy. Can you find out if we can have advanced security checks done on all guests, regardless of status? Just because someone’s royal or a national leader, doesn’t mean he’s not a pedo.”

  Vincent stops writing and looks up at me, a skeptical look on his face. “Everyone?”

  “Everyone,” I say with a firm nod.

  “Let’s say the Queen of England were coming for a stay. You wouldn’t be including her on this list, would you?”

  “It would hardly be fair to allow exceptions, would it?”

  “But she’s in her nineties, and she’s one of the Princess Dowager’s oldest friends.”

  “One rule for everyone avoids us having any pedos attempt to get around it.”

  “I can check, sir, but I…don’t know if that would be advisable, or even possible.”

  “Anything is possible.”

  “You do realize that you run the risk of insulting literally every national leader and royal in the world with this policy?”

  He has a point. Hmm.

  Vincent takes my silence as an opportunity to go on. “If I may make a suggestion, perhaps you and Ollie could have a talk about how to keep the baby safe. I assume this is about the baby.”

  “Good thinking. I’ll be sure to do that. It’s never too early to start planning, is it?”

  Vincent nods, even though I can tell by his expression that he thinks it can most definitely be too early to plan ways to insult the world’s most powerful people.

  “Of course, sir. Although it may prove more effective to keep a good security team surrounding the child than try to run checks on every person he or she will meet.”

  “You may have a point. I’ll check with Ollie.”

  “Very good, Prince Arthur. Will that be all?”

  “Yes, thank you. Can you send Ollie in and send for some coffee? I had a horrible sleep again last night.”

  “Of course.” Vincent stands. “May I suggest a nice, calming Chamomile tea instead?”

  “I’m nothing if not calm, Vinnie,” I say with a little wink.

  What the hell was that? I’m winking now? Is this the beginning of cheesy dad jokes?

  Oh, Christ. Is the dad bod next? When was the last time I worked out? “On second thought, tell Ollie I’ll meet him in the gym so we can get in our workout at the same time.”

  “Yes, Your Highness.”

  ****

  I'm just shutting down my laptop for the evening when there's a knock at my office door. Gran walks in, dressed in a sequined evening gown and heavily applied makeup. For a woman her age, she manages to move with a grace and dexterity one would attribute to a much younger woman. Since her heart attack, she’s made great strides in watching her health, cutting back on both salt and booze, which has had a twofold effect. First, she's a little surlier than I've ever known her to be. Second, she's lost about fifteen pounds, which is a considerable amount for someone who's barely five feet tall.

  “Arthur, I'm glad I caught you before I head out.”

  I stand and walk over to her to give her a kiss on the cheek. “Where are you off to, looking so lovely?”

  She waves off my compliment with the roll of her eyes. “I've agreed to go with Arabella to a benefit for homeless rats or some such. I don't know.”

  “Cats. I'm pretty sure it's a benefit fo
r cats,” I say, smiling at her.

  “Rats, cats, same thing if you ask me. Give me a good hunting dog any day. Anyway, it's come to my attention there is a great deal of hullabaloo brewing over your new ridiculous security protocols.”

  Oh crap. I was hoping to avoid this conversation. “I’m merely trying to update our rather antiquated system. It’s long overdue, really.”

  “Yes, but I’ve heard you’re wanting to have geese stationed around the perimeter of the palace grounds.”

  “An excellent solution. Unlike dogs and people, geese cannot be bribed.”

  “They also can’t be house-trained. The entire place will be covered in goose shit.”

  Walking over to my desk, I pick up my mobile and tuck it in my pocket. “Where there’s a problem, there’s always a solution. We’ll find some way to deal with the poop.”

  “I hate geese, and I don’t want them roaming about everywhere. You can get them after I’m dead.”

  She does this since her surgery—goes with the death threats when she thinks she’s not getting her way...well, not actual death threats, really, but reminders of the fact that she’s very old and has a bad heart.

  She looks up at the ceiling for a second. “In fact, scratch that. I don’t want some horribly loud bird shitting all over my grave. No geese ever,” she says, glaring at me. “And enough with these ridiculous pedo checks on our guests. It’s highly insulting, and when your father hears about it, he’s going to be quite cross with you.”

  “Any new system has its naysayers; this one’s no different. But in the end, it will tighten up security, which is good for everyone.”

  “In the end, you’ll have alienated all our allies. You must stop it.”

  “They’ll get used to it,” I say, exasperation seeping from my pores.

  “Arthur, you can’t protect them from everything. Not Tessa, and not the baby either. Reasonable precautions, yes. Turning their home into a prison, no.”

  “I’m not—”

  “Yes, you are.” She pats my cheek like she’s dealing with a six-year-old version of me. “Now, I know you won’t want to hear it, but if ever there was a time for you to let go of what happened with your mother, it’s right bloody now.”

  “This isn’t about my mother,” I scoff. “This is about the baby.”

  “And your wife, who you are clearly terrified of losing,” she says.

  I start to defend myself, but she holds up her hand. “I had lunch with my friend Betsy Yates today. She told me how you treated her grandson, Ted, the very qualified obstetrician. She was completely horrified, and frankly so am I. Honestly, suggesting he has some sort of vagina-fixation. He’s a highly regarded medical professional.”

  “Doesn’t mean he does it for the right reasons.”

  “He’s also gay.”

  “Oh, well I may have gone a little overboard in that case, but I stand by my desire to do whatever necessary to protect my wife and child.”

  Gran sighs and shakes her head. “You’re going to make a terrible mess of things if you carry on like this. Don’t say I didn’t warn you when it all blows up.”

  “Nothing’s going to blow up. I know what I’m doing.”

  “Famous last words.”

  ELEVEN

  Stylish Men’s Swim Trunks & High Stakes Parenting

  Tessa - 14 Weeks

  Email from Dylan Sinclair to Princess Tessa

  RE: New Rebranding Strategy

  Dear Princess Tessa,

  As it’s been weeks since we’ve met, I was more than a little surprised when I caught the photos of you leaving your doctor’s office today. Clearly, you are not going to be able to act as spokesperson for the Avonian Healthy Pregnancy Foundation but have gone in a different direction with your pregnancy.

  Have been considering ways to improve your image throughout the kingdom. As such, have been binge watching Keeping Up with the Kardashians since I left the palace this evening. This led to my stunning revelation that half of being a trendsetter is simply deciding you are one.

  All you have to do is change how you feel and talk about yourself. It's a whole 'yes, I know you wish you were me' attitude. Totally effective—look at how Kim has managed to make huge booties the latest craze? Just by having one and saying, 'Look at my huge bootie. If you had one, you could land Kanye, too.' Now women all over the world are rushing to get butt implants.

  In this spirit, let's try something new next week. I want you to be unapologetically you. You’re enormous right now, we can't change that, but what we can do is make it seem like this is exactly how you wanted to look. Really own this pregnancy. Be all, ‘Hey, this is what pregnancy looks like. Deal with it.’ Then we just need to get some glamour shots of you like this and keep cycling them through social media until every woman would kill to gain a pile of baby weight.

  Ciao,

  Dylan

  P.S. Let's pick this up on Monday at our spin session. You will be there this time, right?

  ****

  It’s Monday afternoon, and I’m not at my ‘spin sesh’ but instead have had Gillian tell Dylan I am urgently needed in a meeting. I’m instead playing hooky for the first time since I married Arthur. Nikki, who has Mondays off from the salon, and Arabella, who also needed a ‘beach day’, are spending a few hours lounging beside the pool with me.

  Oh, I bet you didn't know palaces often have swimming pools, this one included. I actually didn't realize we had one until a couple of months after Arthur and I were married, on account of it being tucked away at the back side of the palace in a very private spot, surrounded by shrubbery. It’s an enormous indoor pool in an addition that’s almost entirely glassed in. On a hot day like today, you can have the walls opened up to let in the fresh air.

  Since I don't have swimwear that fits me right now (and I refuse to buy some just to wear a couple of times), I'm in a pair of men's swim trunks that are kept on hand for guests. I’ve paired it with an oversized T-shirt (an outfit I can only get away with in front of my two best friends, who are definitely more beach-ready than me and are therefore dressed in bikinis). To be honest, I feel a little awkward because Xavier and Bellford, Arabella’s bodyguard, are here, but if I don't think about it, I can fully enjoy a responsibility-free afternoon with no chance of someone snapping an unflattering photo.

  After going for a long dip, the three of us pull chaise longues out onto the terrace and lie out in the sun, drinking in the warmth and pure tranquility as we dry off.

  “I can't remember the last time I felt so relaxed,” I say, pulling a towel over my face to avoid a sunburn.

  “Me neither,” Arabella says with a satisfied sigh.

  “This is almost as good as a bath,” Nikki says.

  I drift off to sleep for a few minutes, only to have my recurring nightmare about losing the baby. I wake with a start, panicking because I can’t see. I gasp, sitting up quickly, and yelling, “I’m blind!”

  “Whoa. You all right?” Nikki asks, sliding the towel off my face.

  I’m met by her concerned expression. “Yeah, just a bad dream.”

  Arabella sets down the magazine she’s reading. “That was fast. You were only asleep for a couple of minutes.”

  I wipe the sweat off my face with the towel and have a sip of lemon water. “This is going to sound crazy, but I’ve been having the same nightmare, and I can’t help thinking it might be a sign.”

  “Uh oh, that doesn’t sound good,” Nikki says, sitting up and spinning her body sideways on her chaise to face me.

  “I know I shouldn’t let it get to me. I mean, it’s probably hormones or something, but I keep dreaming about losing the baby.”

  “Losing her? That’s awful.” Nikki places her hand over mine. Arabella, who is on the other side of me, stands and rubs the back of my right shoulder with one hand.

  “Oh, no, not like that. Like, we can’t find her. She’s crawling around on the floor at the pala
ce, and she disappears. We search for hours, but she’s just gone.”

  Xavier looks over and throws a confident nod in my direction. “Don’t worry, Princess Tessa. There’s no way I’ll let that baby out of my sight. Not even for a second.”

  Nikki smiles at him in a way that says she just dropped an egg. “See? It’ll be fine, Tess. You’ve got Xavier to protect the baby.” She plays with her topaz necklace, running the charm along the chain while she bats her eyelashes at him. Oh Lord, the pheromones are getting thick out here.

  “Yes, I’d never doubt your capabilities, Xavier,” I say, then turn back to Nikki. “I don’t think the dream is about actually losing the baby. It’s about the baby having such an unusual upbringing. No offense, Arabella.”

  “None taken,” she answers, seating herself on the end of my chair. “It is an incredibly strange way to grow up.”

  “That’s what I thought! Thank you for being honest about this because when I bring it up with Arthur, he’s very resistant to talking about it. I know he just doesn’t want me to worry, but honestly, how am I not supposed feel anxious about raising a child in a palace surrounded by servants, not to mention constantly in the public eye?”

  “Oh, I could see worrying about that,” Nikki says. “Did you see that interview recently with Willow Smith—Jada Pinkett Smith and Will Smith’s daughter?”

  “No, I missed it,” I say, knowing whatever she said is bound to be bad.

  “The gist of it is that growing up famous is excruciatingly awful,” Nikki says with an apologetic look.

  Arabella gives Nikki a dirty look, then says, “Well, I wouldn’t classify my childhood that way at all, really. For the most part, it was quite lovely. We were able to see the world and had so many wonderful experiences most people don’t have. And when I think about it, the press left us alone.”