Fit for a Queen

by Nicole Burnham

  It was simultaneously the most practical and passionate thing she’d ever heard, “You really are a science guy at heart.”

  “In the best way.”

  “You really are a science guy at heart, in the best way,” she corrected. “And you will always, always be worth the effort.”

  His arms tensed as he studied her. “Does this mean you’d be good with it if I moved to Cateri?”

  “I’m more than good with it, I’d be ecstatic. You’d better get admitted to that program.”

  “Assuming I do, I’ll need your connections in Sarcaccia to help me with something.”

  “Anything.”

  “A boat slip.”

  Laughter welled up in her chest, but he cut it off with a deep, steamy kiss that stole her breath. It was a kiss born of promises, of love, and of a wonderful future.

  He was still holding her when a bell rang nearby.

  “The doors are about to open,” she whispered. “Time to find our spots and witness good being done in the world.”

  He gave her one long, last kiss, then said, “May it be the first night of many, many more.”

  Epilogue

  All in all, it was a beautiful wedding.

  Not as beautiful as his own, of course, despite taking place in the same location. Eduardo had long ago realized that if you were fortunate enough to exchange vows with the most incredible woman ever to walk the Earth, no other wedding would compare.

  He sipped from his champagne flute, relaxing into the sensation of the bubbles skittering along his tongue and down his throat. Aletta had loved him as no one ever had. Not every day of their marriage was easy, but in those difficult times, the times they didn’t see eye to eye, she’d worked hard to give him the benefit of the doubt and treat him with respect. It was the way she treated everyone.

  Learning from her example made Eduardo a better king and a better man. It also kept Aletta’s spirit alive in his heart and in the hearts of their children.

  He offered a mental toast to the bishop, who’d made an exception to the Duomo’s rules to allow alcohol to be served in the antechamber during the reception. It was another change from Eduardo’s own wedding, but a suitable one. While his celebration was a massive midday affair, one that packed the Duomo and was witnessed on television by millions more, tonight’s ceremony was far more intimate. Fewer than fifty guests had gathered for the event, including the bride and groom’s immediate families, their close circle of friends, the King and Queen of Sarcaccia, and his own family.

  The newly-married couple stood on the opposite side of the antechamber, Royce’s hand resting protectively at his bride’s lower back as they spoke with the best man, who’d been a member of Royce’s unit in Turkey. Eduardo couldn’t help but feel relieved by the happy scene. For several weeks now, he’d feared that witnessing two people exchange vows in front of the same altar where he and Aletta once stood would make him melancholy. It hadn’t. The moment he’d stood with the other guests to watch the bride walk down the aisle on her father’s arm, her face alight as she looked toward Royce, a deep sense of joy and satisfaction had permeated his entire being. It occurred to him that, more and more, his thoughts of Aletta focused on the happiness they shared, rather than the loss he’d endured.

  He wondered if Fabrizia had predicted this, as well.

  He took another long sip of his champagne, then let his gaze sweep the antechamber, resting a beat on Aletta’s plaque. The morning of his own wedding, he’d been at the palace, listening to the security staff discuss the final schedule for the day’s events as his valet checked and double-checked Eduardo’s dress uniform and adjusted his cuffs. Aletta had dressed here. The sun had been out in full force that day. He imagined it had streamed in through the high windows, giving her good light as she studied herself in the floor-length mirror that had been brought in for her. Those had been her last moments as a commoner.

  Her last moments of true privacy.

  He wondered if she would have preferred a wedding like Daniela and Royce’s. Probably. But she’d embraced the opportunities life presented her, making the best of them even in uncertain times.

  It was a good lesson.

  Queen Fabrizia appeared at Eduardo’s side as her husband, King Carlo, moved to speak with Daniela’s parents and the bishop.

  “It was a lovely service, Eduardo. Thank you for the use of the Duomo,” she said.

  “I believe you suggested to the bishop that it could be closed for two hours on a Tuesday night to accommodate a special event without too much disturbance to the building’s schedule.”

  “So I did.” She smiled. “It’s not often I ask for favors from the organizations to which I donate, but in this case…well. I couldn’t help myself.”

  “I don’t believe the bishop was put out,” Eduardo replied. “It’s not often he performs wedding ceremonies, let alone for an audience of so few. He seems to have enjoyed it.”

  Fabrizia had offered the use of the palace garden or the family’s private chapel in Sarcaccia, but Daniela had wanted to marry in San Rimini, where she and Royce had reconnected. “He has a boat there,” Daniela had explained to the queen. “We thought we’d marry in San Rimini, then sail to Sarcaccia as our honeymoon.”

  When the queen noted that a two-day sail sounded like far too short a honeymoon, Daniela had blushed scarlet. “We, ah, had hoped to spend several nights at sea so we could stargaze. There’s very little light pollution in the middle of the Mediterranean.”

  Eduardo had nearly choked when Carlo told him the story, adding that his wife had made a rather pointed comment about what “stargazing” must mean to Daniela and Royce.

  “This gave me the opportunity to see the inside of the Duomo at night,” Fabrizia continued. “A wedding in such an old, holy place, by candlelight, is a magical event.”

  “Yes, it is.” Eduardo was surprised by the emotion that welled within him at the thought. “I do believe theirs is a relationship that will stand the test of time.”

  Fabrizia made a sound of agreement, then said, “I never found out…did Royce finish his work in your apartment? When Carlo had dinner with you during the European Union summit last month, I asked him to find out, but being Carlo, he forgot. Apartment refurbishment isn’t a topic that sits in the forefront of his mind, particularly when he’s in the midst of economic discussions.”

  “Mine, either,” Eduardo admitted. After a discreet survey of the room to ensure no one could overhear, he said, “By the time Royce discovered Helena’s thefts, the cover job was within two days of being complete. I told him that I could bring in another contractor and make a suitable explanation to the security staff without anyone being the wiser. But he insisted on working those final two days. Said it would ensure his painting company remained legitimate and that he’d gotten far enough along that he wanted to see the job to completion. I think he’d have done it even Daniela hadn’t been wrapping up her task.”

  “No wonder she loves him. Daniela would never leave a task half-finished. It’d drive her to distraction.”

  “Believe it or not, Royce did an excellent job. He even refinished the baseboards and crown molding before painting the walls, and took extra care to protect items of historical significance. I couldn’t have hired better.”

  “And do you like it?”

  He knew she was asking about more than aesthetics. Altering the main room of the apartment he and Aletta shared at La Rocca was, in a way, leaving their shared past behind. Countless private moments had taken place within those confines. Though Eduardo had opened Christmas presents, played innumerable games, and eaten family dinners there during his childhood, when the apartment had been occupied by his parents, his strongest memories were those he shared with Aletta. Enjoying late-night glasses of cognac in front of the fireplace while rehashing the events of the day. Playing cards. Making love. Raising their four children.

  In his mind, all those wonderful memories were tied to the space.

&nb
sp; “I’m adjusting. The work is beautiful, but it’s hard not to miss what was.”

  Fabrizia ran a finger along the outside of her champagne flute. “Change always requires adjustment, whether that change is by choice or foisted upon us by circumstance. You and I have had our share of each.”

  She and Carlo had faced serious challenges in their marriage. Some public, some known only to their inner circle. And some, he had to assume, known only to the two of them. Those challenges had required adjustments by both parties.

  “It’s not always easy to stay optimistic in the face of change,” she continued, her tone contemplative. “I’m glad that you are.”

  Her gaze traveled to the newlyweds. Eduardo followed suit. Beyond them, Daniela’s parents stood with their heads together, sharing an intimate moment. They’d been estranged, Fabrizia had told him, but had rekindled their own romance while planning Daniela’s wedding.

  “There is so much that lies ahead, for all of us,” Fabrizia said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Who knows what happiness the future may bring?”

  Once more, the merry voices that filled the room felt as if they inhabited Eduardo’s very being, elevating his mood. At that moment, Daniela turned and bent slightly to adjust the hem at the back of her wedding gown. Her gaze snagged both Eduardo’s and Fabrizia’s. Her mouth curved at having been caught fussing.

  Eduardo and Fabrizia each raised their glasses. Daniela’s smile widened before the best man said something that compelled her to turn back to the conversation.

  “To the newlyweds,” Eduardo said.

  With a practiced movement so gentle that Eduardo didn’t hear the clink, Fabrizia touched her glass to his. “And to embracing the future, whatever it may bring.”

  Warmth flooded through him as he took a sip of his champagne. They could both drink to that.

  It was a beautiful wedding.

  A beautiful beginning for all.

  Thank you for reading Fit for a Queen. If you enjoyed this book, please consider leaving a review at your favorite bookstore or book club website.

  * * *

  Learn about Nicole’s upcoming releases and receive special insider bonuses by visiting nicoleburnham.com.

  * * *

  Read on for an excerpt from the next San Rimini novel, Going to the Castle.

  Going to the Castle

  TODAY’S ROYALS: THE LATEST

  By V. Dempsey, September 9

  * * *

  BIRTHDAY BASH FOR SAN RIMINI’S CROWN PRINCE

  At 34, Antony Sets New Mark

  * * *

  La Rocca di Zaffiro, SAN RIMINI - More than three hundred carefully selected guests converged on this northern Adriatic country last night to celebrate Prince Antony Lorenzo diTalora’s thirty-fourth birthday in the royal palace’s famous Imperial Ballroom.

  Conversation throughout the evening focused not on the prince’s planned state visit to China later this week, but on the prince’s age and relationship status. The diTalora family has the longest continuous reign in Europe and can attribute that longevity—at least in part—to their tradition of marrying young.

  Antony is now the oldest San Riminian crown prince not to have wed and produced an heir.

  Despite the hushed gossip filling the ballroom, Prince Antony appeared unconcerned about settling down anytime soon. Recent reports have linked him to wealthy socialite Bianca Caratelli, but he lived up to his reputation as southern Europe’s playboy prince last night, bringing German supermodel Frida Heit, a descendant of Britain’s Queen Victoria, as his date.

  Over the course of the evening, the prince was spotted dancing with Caratelli, but he chose to dine with Heit and his sister, Princess Isabella. Heit departed early, claiming an early morning fitting for a fashion show. Antony did not appear to mind, however, leaving the event well after midnight with a group of his sister’s friends for a private party at an undisclosed location.

  Noticeably absent from the festivities was King Eduardo, fueling rumors that the monarch’s health isn’t as robust as claimed. An official palace statement states that the king was “tending to important matters of state.” However, sources close to the royal family claim the king had no official duties on his schedule and spent the evening in his palace residence.

  The king has not been spotted on his regular morning run in several weeks, though the palace has not commented on the change in routine.

  If the rumors prove true, Prince Antony may not remain the playboy prince much longer. According to several insiders, King Eduardo’s health could force him to consider an arranged marriage for his eldest son.

  “It sounds antiquated, but it does make a certain amount of sense,” admits Count Giovanni Sozzani, a longtime friend of the king, when asked about the possibility. “King Eduardo places his royal duties above all else, and he believes his primary duty is to ensure the continuation of the diTalora line. If Antony is not married soon, King Eduardo will feel he has failed the people of San Rimini.”

  Antony has refused comment on any such plans.

  The latrine threatened to overflow in an hour, tops.

  Jennifer Allen leaned on her shovel and drank deeply from her battered canteen. Her arms and back throbbed from an afternoon of heavy digging in the summer heat and sweat ran into her eyes, making her contact lenses burn, but she couldn’t quit now.

  If she and the other relief workers didn’t finish the hole for the new latrine soon, the residents of the Haffali refugee camp might opt to use the nearby river to relieve themselves. Unfortunately, the river also supplied water for their camp showers and laundry.

  Jennifer dropped her canteen to the ground, then turned to continue her dusty job. As she raised her shovel to dig, she caught sight of a surprisingly clean white van making its way down the rough mountainside to the camp. She leaned her shovel against the side of the pit. She’d seen the van before. It belonged to an American network news organization.

  “Hey, Pia.” She waited for the assistant camp director’s attention, then gestured toward the rutted road. “Any idea what that’s about?”

  Rasovo’s civil war had raged for six months now and few American news agencies had visited the camp, even during the early days of the war when American interest in the displaced Rasovars peaked…if peaked meant it made the white van network’s three a.m. news report. With no recent bombing in the area, Jennifer couldn’t imagine why journalists chose today to make a surprise visit.

  However, if the Refugee Respite Project, for which she worked, wanted to keep the Haffali camp open for those fleeing the fighting, they needed more donations. Even more importantly—she glanced at the long line for the one working latrine—skilled workers and volunteers willing to travel to Rasovo and pitch in with both hands. Perhaps she could turn the intrusion into an opportunity.

  “Oh, shoot,” Pia grumbled as she climbed out of the half-completed pit for a better look at the van. “They must have heard that rumor about Prince Antony. Hope they don’t mind talking to us while we work.”

  “What rumor?” Jennifer couldn’t imagine what Europe’s hottest tabloid cover subject had to do with the Haffali camp. Other than the fact that both Rasovo and his native San Rimini occupied the northern end of the Balkan peninsula, she saw no link.

  Pia raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t tell you? Some of the residents in Tent B heard on the radio that Prince Antony is planning to visit the camp tomorrow. They came to me for confirmation, since I’m San Riminian. I never received anything from the palace, though, so I told them it was just a rumor.”

  Nothing had crossed Jennifer’s desk, either.

  “I’m sure you’re right. Prince Antony has hundreds of clean charities elsewhere in Europe to use for his public relations purposes. Why mess a good suit coming here?” The prince’s late mother, Queen Aletta, had a reputation amongst human rights and charitable organizations for her deep and passionate involvement. Though Antony and his siblings stepped in following his mother’s death five ye
ars earlier, Antony didn’t have his mother’s touch. Some in the nonprofit sector believed he was still finding his footing, while others speculated that his appearances were calculated as those most likely to enhance his family’s public image. No one complained, because those appearances raised awareness, but such choices always grated on Jennifer.

  She shook her head, thinking of the grandeur of the San Riminian palace. The Haffali camp stood only a day’s hike from the border with San Rimini, yet the ease of life on San Rimini’s side of the mountains made it feel a world away from the devastation in Rasovo. Unfortunately for the residents of Haffali, most San Riminians liked to keep it that way.

  A wave of voices rose as several of the refugees spotted the news van.

  “What do you want to do?” Pia asked. “We don’t have time for this.”

  Jennifer tucked a stray curl under her Colorado Rockies cap, then lifted her shovel. “Let’s keep digging. By the time the journalists locate me and learn there’s no royal visit scheduled, the pit will be finished. Then I can try to talk them into doing a story on the camp itself. Get the word out that we’re desperate for more staff.”

  Pia snorted as she jumped back into the pit to continue shoveling. “Nice thought, Jen, but why cover an overcrowded, depressing refugee camp when your assignment is to splash a few pictures of a filthy-rich, drop-dead gorgeous Prince Charming across people’s screens?”

  Jennifer silently agreed, but vowed to convince the reporters to publicize the need for more relief workers.

  Besides, if she remembered the fairy tale correctly, Prince Charming never once got his hands dirty helping Cinderella with her chores. He danced at palace parties and had a penchant for dainty glass slippers. She needed people willing to pitch in and help. People who valued work boots. Not Prince Charming.