Forbidden Bastard: Opposites Attract Matchmaker Romance (Princes of Avce Book 10)

by Victoria Pinder

  His body was still as he said stiffly, “Clara will be here.”

  Of course. She’d said this all wrong. Seriously? She just didn’t have the words to explain how bad a decision-maker she'd been all her life. Hopefully with some time, her mind would work on all thrusters and she’d overcome the nerves that sent her into a panic. “Good, you’ll have family support.”

  He sipped his coffee and seemed totally at ease when he said, “Yes. She’ll be here by lunch.”

  So no matter what, he had support and there was no pressing reason to marry immediately when he had a few weeks left before he turned thirty-one. He had time till he lost it all, and she wouldn't be the cause of that. She ate another beignet and her shoulders lightened. “You really planned the whole thing?”

  He poured the last bit of coffee from the carafe into her cup. “There are still quite a few things to handle, but I’ve planned events for clients for years. Trust me.”

  Events. She’d helped with a few small parties, but nothing quite qualified as an event. She accepted the coffee he offered. “I don’t know that part of you.”

  He shrugged and sat more comfortably in his chair as he said, “I didn’t just attend art fairs to find my first goods to import and export. I built more trust with artists when I hosted events.”

  “I had no idea.” But maybe she should have. All she knew about Charles was that he was a great guy, ran a good business, had recently been titled, inherited money, and the computer said he was her match.

  But details like what he did… now, those gaps should be filled.

  The caffeine was kicking in. She straightened as he said, “We have the rest of our lives to figure each other out.”

  Perhaps she was being foolish and the voice in her head was right that she loved him. Charles was a dream she'd never expected. She gulped the last sip and put her empty cup down as she told herself not to make a hasty choice. “I’ll pick out a dress. Having my parents here will be nice. But I want to enjoy them too, so tomorrow for the wedding?”

  He nodded. “I can reschedule everything. The staff will be relieved, I don't doubt. I’ll ensure the driver picks your parents up, then I'll show your father around the guest house and the lands while we wait for you to return with your mother for a late lunch.”

  Good. Since he'd done this without discussing it with her, he could handle rescheduling what he’d started as she'd slept. That was only fair. She stood, overwhelmed by the idea of returning to the palace for two-thousand gown options. “Charles, just don’t rush into a decision because you’re upset by what your birth mother said. As far as I’m concerned, she did you a favor.”

  “How?” He followed her inside.

  She headed into the closet and saw lines of dresses in her size.

  How did she have such a selection? She chose a simple light-green cotton dress. “Could you imagine if she’d raised you? You had a few moments of what Cassidy and Chelsea must have lived through.”

  He picked out a pair of jeans and a black, form-fitting t-shirt and she froze. Those abs of his always captured her attention. “Doubtful. She wanted them.”

  She tossed the dress on the bed and headed toward the bathroom to clean up as she asked, “Or did she raise them only because she wanted their father, a lord?”

  He followed her inside as he rolled his black shirt down over his muscles. “Then she made a bad choice. From what I know about Lord Pascal, her husband, is horrible at budgeting. My import and export business is valued at over ten billion now that I’m a royal but I was doing well for a self-startup.”

  Even without the house and title he was worth a fortune. Most women she knew would do anything to be his bride. She picked up a hair brush and stroked through the long, red tangles--she couldn't go to the castle looking like she just woke up. Her belly twisted. Finally she couldn’t ignore it anymore, finished with the brush, and said, “So you can take care of Clara, regardless of a marriage.”

  He winked. “She doesn’t let me. She thinks I should run my business without considering her retirement--it took a year for her to agree to that apartment in Paris. But in her heart of hearts, she wants to show her face in Avce, in style, and not just as a villager from Modena’s lands.”

  The idea of Clara as some villager of old was almost comical though she’d been dressed as a Victorian lady the day they'd met, so the woman had obviously worn many hats in her day. She shook the picture out of her mind, but for once this morning she smiled. “Where’s Modena?”

  Charles said, “Some other duke’s property in Avce--he took off and apparently only has a few weeks left before he loses his title.”

  Wow. All the pieces of why Charles had come to Avce started to make more of a connection. The house. The title. He'd done everything for Clara.

  He knew how to love. That was so obvious. If only she was sure. She turned the shower on, wanting to be clean before putting on that lovely dress. “How do you know that?”

  He stepped into his jeans and buttoned them, then adjusted the shirt he wore. “It’s what the Earl of Skye discussed yesterday, as my half-sisters are apparently concerned about the fellow.”

  He went to the bedroom and she hopped in, did a fast wash, and out. Once she toweled off, she saw Charles was still getting his shoes, and he'd left her a pair of matching green flats. Her legs were thankful, and she quickly dressed. As she finished, she kissed his cheek and said, “Okay. Charles, tomorrow it is and I’ll get the dress today. See you soon.”

  Without another word she went downstairs, to the waiting car, and the palace. Maybe she feared they were rushing for the wrong reason but that was no reason for her to be stupid and leave. Charles had said he loved her. She didn’t need to do anything other than open her own heart. This was supposed to be the easy part where she said yes to a life she never imagined.

  Chapter 14

  Charles waited near the front door of his home, alerted that the limo he'd sent to the airport was on its way back.

  Sandi’s father would soon be here, and her mother had already been dropped off at the palace.

  Clara was settling into the dower home and wanted a few minutes alone.

  This morning had gone unusually easy--once Sandi had left him for the castle, and Queen Anna Camilla.

  Maybe that was a wrong thought. The wedding was tomorrow, but her negotiating for more time sent his adrenaline into overdrive.

  He’d managed to call every possible person on his wedding to-do list twice to ensure things were on track.

  He’d triple-checked his business deals to ensure nothing was amiss, but he couldn’t quite get his stomach to settle or his body to stop being so tense.

  No amount of meditating or gym work had helped.

  The marathon in his mind and body kept sprinting toward a goal where he saw the sign overhead that read "Sandi doesn’t love you."

  In fact, he’d said that he loved her and she’d questioned him rather than say anything back.

  So, she must not love him.

  And he needed to face that important truth. Fast.

  Part of him didn’t blame her for being smart.

  He’d hesitated away from her because she had that ability to really see parts of him no one else did.

  He wasn’t loveable.

  If he was loveable, he’d have never been tossed out as a baby, and then again at the train station.

  But then Sandi’s words this morning about Francesca played in his mind. She’d have been worse than the nun who'd ditched him to save herself.

  The limo driver stopped and opened the door.

  A super skinny man with salt and pepper hair stepped out, blinding in his bright yellow golf shirt and orange and brown plaid shorts.

  The way Sandi had spoken about her father… he’d imagined… well, maybe he was comparing him to the king, and that wasn’t quite fair.

  He held out his hand to shake and the man’s bony grip was surprisingly strong. “This is your home, Mr. Esposito?”


  Formal. Sandi was sweet and the opposite of formal, in her typical American fashion. He smiled a little brighter and clapped him on the back to bring him inside. “Call me Charles. We’re going to be family, Fred.”

  Her father glanced at the chandelier and then down to the marble floor with a whistle. “It’s hard to imagine how I’ll explain all this to my golf friends.”

  Just then he saw Clara making her way toward them from across the back patio. She'd scraped her gray curls into a tight bun, and her makeup made her appear flawless--and was that a new purple dress? He walked Fred to the door just as she entered. “Come. This is my mother, or the closest thing I have to one.”

  Sandi's father’s face turned red as if suddenly shy. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Esposito?”

  Clara shook her head and offered her hand. “No. Clara Belrose… Charles was never formally adopted as we couldn't get all the right paperwork in order. Some of the legal documents were sealed.”

  The last thing he needed was for Sandi’s family to think less of him for not being from a normal family. Charles stood beside Clara and explained, “Clara raised me since I was a baby really. She’s the only mother I ever knew.”

  Tears formed in her eyes and she cupped his cheek. “Yes, and Charles is all the family I have left. Come. I ordered coffee served for us.”

  He followed but his insides twisted as he knew Clara had thought about her daughter and grandson in that moment. He’d never been able to replace what she lost.

  Fred joined them as Charles asked Clara, “How is the dower house for you?”

  “I love it, Charles.” Clara directed them back outside and onto the patio which had been set up with a variety of baked goods. “The views are lovely, and the staff was nice.” She then turned toward Fred and said, “I was told the guest house for you and your wife is ready for you as well.”

  Fred nodded as he took his seat. “So, why are you moving in today to the dower house?”

  Charles detected a slight twang to Fred's accent that he found endearing--Sandi didn’t have it. It must have been schooled out of her. Clara said, “We've just decided to make the move from Paris. You and your wife will have to come and see it when she returns with Sandi.”

  Charles poured the coffee like they were still at one of Clara’s theater benefits she used to throw for charity as Fred said, “We will. She’ll be so happy that Sandi turned around her life and is finally making a rational choice.”

  His hand trembled. Sandi had mentioned Reza in the past but turning her life around… she hadn’t made it sound heartbreaking. He passed around the coffee like he'd been born a gentleman. “What do you mean?”

  Fred shrugged like everything was fine and took one of the pastries Clara offered while he said, “Sandi’s been running my business as my father thought she had the family brains. Turned out she failed, but then none of us are as business-minded as my old man was--now Sandi doesn’t have to try to fill in anymore.”

  Perhaps Sandi was hesitating and hadn’t said she loved him because her heart hadn’t decided on him. Maybe it was still on the doctor ex she’d mentioned. The fact that she hadn’t said the words tore him up inside.

  Once again he wasn’t good enough and the evidence was right there.

  He couldn’t replace anyone; everyone knew he was a fraud playing this current role. He didn’t flinch, having decades of practice at acting unaffected. “We can build a golf course nearby if that will make you happy.”

  Fred started but stood fast and said, “I’d lov… it sounds like the women are back.”

  He must be in tune with his wife. That was how marriages were supposed to be. A partnership.

  Charles jumped from his seat a moment later as Sandi walked beside an older version of herself. Both redheads with green eyes and similar smiles. She came right toward him as he said, “Sandi.”

  She laughed and said, “Charles, this is my mother, Nancy.”

  Yes. There was no doubt. He kissed her hand in greeting as he said, “Nice to meet you, Nancy.”

  Her mother blushed the same too as she walked next to her husband and said, “Lovely to meet you as well.” She pointed toward an empty chair. “Fred, is that seat for me?”

  He hopped behind her and held her chair, pushing it in as she sat. “Yes, Nancy. We were just talking to Clara here, Charles’s adoptive mother.”

  Her mother tilted her head and stared quizzically at Clara. “Hello. The Queen didn’t mention an adoptive mother. We talked about Charles when Sandi picked out her dress.”

  Clara stiffened like she’d been caught impersonating a lady when she was more a lady than anyone. Being a fraud was something they both had in common as a fear. She peered into her cup. “I… I don’t know if the royals know about me. I haven't returned to Avce until today… for the wedding, unless Charles explained?”

  He walked beside her. No one would hurt her. No one on his watch. Ever. He placed his hand on her back. “I did not. I intended to when I saw them next, now that I’m sure no one else has reached out to me from people I don’t want to deal with.”

  “That sounds complicated but introductions are easy enough.” Nancy poured herself coffee as she asked, “Which is tomorrow night? At this wedding.”

  Sandi had taken a seat next to her mother before he'd had a chance to hold her chair and now Charles met her steady gaze. Heat rose to his cheeks and he said, “I’m not sure if they’re coming.”

  Sandi glanced at her parents and then offered a simple explanation. “Because you didn’t send an invitation? The wedding can be postponed if you need more time.”

  His chest was hollow. Again she wanted to wait. Was she waiting for this Reza to come to her rescue? His skin was alert and he wanted to hit something but again he used his old skill of never showing his emotion by rubbing the back of his neck. “No. I'll send one this afternoon… to make you happy.”

  Sandi motioned for him to scoot closer to the table, next to Clara. Fred took another pastry. “At least you do well for yourself, Charles, and make time for Clara. Sandi’s last boyfriend was so into his career that he had no personality. I hope we can talk about things more.”

  “Whatever you wish, Fred.”

  Sandi blushed and covered her face. “Mom, Dad, can we never talk about Reza again?”

  Her mother brushed Sandi’s arm like she sympathized with her daughter's pain as she said, “Of course.”

  His mind spun. Now he wanted to run and move to release the energy inside him. She loved another man.

  Once again he was a poor replacement for someone he’d never live up to.

  Fred quickly added, “We didn’t think you’d end up a princess is all, honey.”

  Sandi’s green eyes met his. Her face turned white but she shook her head and didn’t blink at all. “No. I’m not that, and in marrying Charles, I’d be a duchess, not a princess.”

  Nancy took one of the pastries that Fred was eating and said, “Well, we’re excited either way. This wedding will be something my friends will just wish their daughters had for themselves.”

  Clara put her coffee cup down and whispered, “Charles, don’t stress, son. I’m sure I’ll eventually see the king and queen so I can make my own judgment on why they never contacted us.”

  She saw what he was feeling. Clara was the only one in his life who ever noticed, and she was the one who'd warned him about Sheena.

  Once they were alone, he was sure Clara would have a different opinion on Sandi after this afternoon.

  She loved another.

  Sandi scooted her chair closer to the table and folded her hands on it. “Clara, if you don’t want the royals here we won’t invite them.”

  “That’s up to Charles, not me,” Clara said quietly and for once she had no theatrics.

  Charles placed his hand on top of hers and nodded. “I want to talk to them about you.”

  Her cheeks reddened. “You don’t.”

  Until Sandi, Clara had always been his one weakness. Now he
had two, but he was ready to tell others and keep them both safe from any rebels and traitors who sought to use his birth heritage against the crown. “No. I do. I want to clear the air.”

  Sandi asked with wide eyes, “What’s going on, Charles?”

  Charles glanced at his beautiful bride-to-be. Tomorrow would be the best day of his life, as he never wanted to let her go. “Clara wants to talk to the king and queen. So, we’ll send the invitation at once.”

  Sandi pushed her chair back and pointed toward the patio door to go inside. “Can we talk alone for a moment?”

  “Of course.” He left his napkin on the table as he followed Sandi to an indoor sitting room overlooking the patio and ocean.

  She walked toward the window without looking at him. “Charles, we don’t have to rush this. We can take our time, enjoy each other, and ourselves…”

  His blood rushed into his head as he closed the door and then crossed his arms. “Because you are dreaming about the doctor ex of yours?”

  Her head tilted. “No.”

  “No?” He repeated, but it sounded hollow.

  When they’d met she’d been happy to find him other women. And now she didn’t want to marry him--again. She still had the same doubts.

  She came toward him and placed her hand on his throbbing chest. “Charles, what’s going on with you?”

  Did he need to spell this out? His mind roared to be silent, but he swallowed and decided it was time. She had his love but it wasn’t reciprocated. “It occurred to me that I said I love you, but you didn’t say it back.”

  Her face instantly lost all color. “What?”

  And he had no idea what to do now.

  All he could see was another person who’d walk away from him…yet he reached for her hand and asked, “Can you marry me if you don’t love me? Is that why you’re stalling?”

  Her lips ticked up as she said, “Charles… don’t.”

  His own tickled to claim her mouth and show her that he could make her happy, but he stilled. “Don’t what? I don’t know what I’ll do if you leave me too.”