Redeeming A Royal
Nadine Millard
This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and events are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or deceased, business establishments, events, locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2020 by Nadine Millard
Kindle Edition
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner of this book.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Epigraph
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Epilogue
Excerpt from The Monster of Montvale Hall
Acknowledgements
Also by Nadine Millard
About Nadine Millard
Heavy is the heart that wears the crown…
Prologue
“Christopher, are you listening?”
Christopher Emmanuelle Farago Wesselbach dragged his gaze from the window and back to his father, who was looming over him looking less than pleased.
The king never liked it when people got distracted in his presence. Least of all his own son.
And especially when it was his eldest son and therefore heir to the throne of Aldonia.
Christopher’s father wasn’t unkind or cruel. He was just king first, father second. That was how it needed to be. That was how Christopher, himself, would need to be when he ascended to the throne and ruled their country.
As a boy of twelve, he knew this. Had known since he’d been old enough to begin his lessons.
Crown and country first. Everything else second. Just as it should be.
Outside his father’s personal study, a study that would one day belong to Christopher, his siblings Alexander and Harriet played noisily, their screeches and laughter floating on the summer breeze.
Christopher felt a pang of envy as he listened to them.
They sounded like they were having great fun. While he was stuck in here. Again.
When he’d been younger, his mother had tried to convince the king that Christopher should be given time to just be a boy, just be a child. But the king wouldn’t hear of it.
“I had to learn. My father had to learn before me. And now, Christopher will learn. Duty to the Crown must begin now.”
And so, every day when the nannies and governesses and tutors took Alex and Harri on nature walks and fishing expeditions, when they played in the garden or swam in the lake, Christopher remained inside the palace. Learning his duty. Preparing for his future.
“Later today we will meet with the captain of the guard,” his father droned on, unaware of the direction that Christopher’s self-pitying thoughts had strayed. “It won’t be long before you will join the regiment. And the Crown Prince will be expected to know his role well.”
“Yes, Father,” Christopher dutifully answered.
A sudden knock on the door sounded, and his father’s personal assistant hurried in with a silver tray carrying a single letter.
“A missive from the Duke of Tallenburg, sire,” the man said with a bow.
Relations with the Tallenburg side of the family were strained. Even hostile. And Christopher, while not privy to the conversations just yet, was aware of it. One of the things he’d need to learn, his father had warned him, was how to deal with hostility in a calm and astute manner.
A good king ruled through respect, not fear, his father had said.
A great king honoured the privilege of his position while all the while remembering that he was there as a servant to the people. He worked for them, not the other way around.
Yes, his father was a wise and wonderful king. And Christopher always worried that he’d fall short when his turn came.
The king opened the letter, his eyes scanning the missive.
His face gave nothing away. No matter the task, no matter the challenge, his father’s stoicism could always be relied upon.
It made him slightly cold but always dependable.
“This will need to be addressed with some urgency,” his father said to the assistant, who hovered with the tray. “Arrange a meeting and make preparations for a short trip.”
The servant bowed deferentially before swiftly exiting the office.
“I’m afraid that we shall have to reschedule our meeting with the captain, Christopher.”
“Of course, Father,” he answered at once.
The king studied him before his face suddenly softened into a rare smile.
“Why don’t you spend the afternoon with your brother and sister?”
Christopher wanted to grin. Wanted to leap to his feet and rush from the room.
But he knew better.
He stood slowly, issuing a perfectly respectable bow to his father. The king.
“Thank you, Father,” he said sombrely before walking at a sedate pace out of the office and into the corridor outside.
It was only when he reached the staircase that Christopher allowed himself to smile.
He dashed down the stairs and ran full pelt for the gardens.
Perhaps he’d join whatever game Alex was playing with Hari.
Christopher didn’t have the bond with his siblings that they had with each other. He’d been kept too distant from them. He’d been too busy learning to be a king to ever really get the chance to be a brother and a play mate. And much as he tried not to feel envious of their relationship, sometimes he wished that he was included in it, too.
Now, with his unexpected freedom, he would play the rambunctious sword games that Alex favoured. And he would chase Harriet until she squealed and laughed like she did with Alex.
Christopher reached the garden, a grin on his face.
But as he approached, Alex and Harriet were being led back to the palace by their nannies.
His smile faded as the garden emptied, and Christopher stood in the middle of it. All alone.
He felt his eyes fill with childish tears but refused to let them fall.
He was the Crown Prince. Heir to the throne. One day, he would be king.
He didn’t need play time in the garden. He didn’t need the company of his brother, or sister, or anyone else.
He just needed to stay focused so that one day, he’d be a good and just ruler.
Crown and country came first. Everything else came second.
Chapter One
The palace was a hive of activity.
Christopher stood in his private quarters feeling inexplicably nervous about the coming few weeks.
For the first time since the incident two years ago that had seen his sister, Princess Harrie
t, kidnapped by their cousin, the Duke of Tallenburg, or technically since her wedding afterwards, the Aldonian palace was hosting a party for the most esteemed of guests.
Despite the recent break in tradition, Aldonia had long since had a tradition of being welcoming. Extravagantly so. No, the surprising thing about this particular party was that it had been Christopher’s idea, and not his father’s.
Whilst King Josef had been pleased with Christopher’s decision, and Queen Anya beside herself, Christopher couldn’t say he was exactly looking forward to it.
It was time. There was a duty to be done. A chore to be taken care of in the ever-growing list of royal duties he’d taken over from his father.
Whilst the king was still ruler in name, it was very much in name only. The baton had been passed to Christopher some years back. But two years ago, after Harriet’s kidnapping and subsequent successful rescue, all duties had been handed over to Christopher.
As usual, Christopher felt a pang of sadness alongside the stress and self-doubt.
The king had been a strong and powerful leader, yes. But he was also Christopher’s father. And Alexander’s and Harriet’s, of course. And it was hard to see him grow older, frailer, less able than he had once been.
Christopher, as the eldest and the heir, had always been closest to their father. Not in any warm or emotional way. More like an apprentice and his master.
And he missed his father. Missed him as the king. And, he admitted, as a mentor.
Too long, Christopher had been the responsible one. The serious one. The sombre one.
Whilst Alex had been free to be charming and frivolous, and Harriet had been the princess and therefore only required to be pretty and pleasant, Christopher had known that everything would one day fall to him.
He’d just been unprepared for how unqualified he’d felt when it had happened in earnest. Though his father had been growing older, even frailer, there’d been years left in the man still. Or so Christopher had thought.
The king had survived Alex’s defection to England to marry an untitled girl and assume the title of an earl of some consequence there.
He’d survived an assassination attempt.
He’d survived Harriet running away even though she was followed by one of Christopher’s elite team of spies.
He’d even survived Harriet being kidnapped by the Duke of Tallenburg as part of a blackmail plot, thankfully gone awry, and consequently falling in love with and marrying her guard and rescuer.
Christopher had been happy enough with Harriet’s choice of husband. Jacob Lauer was a man of integrity, and Christopher couldn’t think of anyone who could take better care of the impetuous princess.
While the king had been hoping to use Harriet’s marriage as a political alliance, he’d conceded at Christopher’s insistence and allowed her to marry Jacob, who was now head of the league of spies who worked around the world at Christopher’s command.
Christopher might never be able to or want to marry for love, but he had at least made sure that Harriet did.
After all the events of the last few years, the king had seemed almost immortal.
But no. Ironically, the king’s own heart had been the thing that failed the great man in the end.
After an attack that had left King Josef at death’s door, the older man had been too weak to do anything other than hand over the reins, and now he lived a quiet and small life within the palace, attending occasional ceremonial events, if and when he felt well enough.
As grief threatened to overwhelm him, Christopher moved to the crystal decanter of brandy that sat in the corner of his office to pour himself a generous measure.
This, he knew, was something his father would most definitely not approve of.
But then, a lot of what Christopher did nowadays would not meet the approval of his father or grandfather before him.
Oh, when it came to running the country, he was managing well enough.
It was his personal life – the life he’d been bred to live blemish free, at least publicly – that would be cause for disapproval.
For despite the king’s demands that Christopher marry and beget an heir, it still hadn’t happened yet. And the king was vocally disappointed that he might not live to see more grandchildren.
The guilt that knowledge had caused Christopher in the past two years was acute. But so, too, was the anger at such a demand.
Christopher had given all of himself to the Crown. He’d sacrificed his childhood and a young manhood that should have been spent at least partially frivolously.
But he’d failed in marrying and producing the requisite heir in a time that suited his father.
There had been a time a couple of years back when he’d considered marriage. Lady Althea Furberg had been well-bred, beautiful, reserved, and sophisticated. Everything he should want in a wife.
He hadn’t loved her. But she’d been ambitious, wanting a crown, and he’d figured that she’d do as well as any other respectable lady. And truth be told, he had, in his way, started to care for the lady. Perhaps not love, but that could have come with time. He’d started to confide in her though, actually talk to her as a man, not a prince. Most of all, he’d trusted her.
Of course, the fact that she’d conspired with his cousin, the Duke of Tallenburg, to kidnap Harriet and use her to try to steal lucrative mines from Aldonia had been more than a little off-putting.
And, much as he was pragmatic as opposed to romantic, he’d rather not have a wife who was so desperately in love with another man that she’d commit treason in order to help him.
Althea had taught him a brutal lesson, at least. When it came to Christopher, nobody was interested in the man. They just wanted the Crown.
At least, the mistresses he kept to occasionally slake his desire were honest, as was he. Their encounters held no affection, no false promises, no impossible expectations. They used each other, Christopher supposed, in their own ways. He because he was a man and had a healthy dose of respect for his needs, and the women because they knew nothing of a royal life and wanted no part in one. The jewels, the house, and the carriage were enough for them.
It had been a bitter pill to swallow – that lesson of Althea’s—but then, so much of his life was about the Crown not the man. Nor the boy he’d been before.
Just being the heir. Just being the king.
That’s why he’d decided to honour his father’s wishes, before it was too late.
He would marry. He would provide Aldonia with the heir to the throne it required. And he would choose a wife—not based on silly, untrustworthy things like emotions, or feelings, or his heart.
No, he would choose a political alliance that would strengthen Aldonia. He would choose a queen who would be proper, and decorous, and know how to quietly and unassumingly support a king, just as his mother had done for his father. One who would expect nothing from him.
He would keep his mistresses; she would have her crown and her title.
And once he filled a nursery, everyone would get what they wanted.
That was why he was hosting this inconvenient gathering for the next three weeks.
Aldonia had always played host to royals, dignitaries, and aristocrats from all over the world. Just as it would now.
The difference being that by the end of this event, Christopher intended to have a bride.
Even if he didn’t particularly want one.
A knock sounded on the study door, and Christopher swiftly put the tumbler of brandy back on the table before moving to take a seat behind his solid oak desk.
“Enter,” he called, expecting his assistant Hincham.
When the door opened, however, his brother-in-law and head of private security strode in.
“Jacob.” Christopher stood at the arrival of the man who, though an inch or two shorter than his own six feet three inches, was slightly broader of shoulder.
The talented spy’s golden-blonde hair and bright blue eyes were a dire
ct contrast to Christopher’s sable locks and deep brown eyes.
Christopher fleetingly wondered whether Harriet’s child would favour the darker looks of the Aldonian royal family or the fair features of Jacob.
They wouldn’t find out for months yet, he knew. But oddly, he found himself quite looking forward to the arrival.
The only other child in their family was Alex’s son, Frederick. And given that the young viscount lived in England with Alex and Lydia, he didn’t get to see as much of the boy as Christopher would like.
He’d never considered himself as a lover of children, but the little prince or princess who would arrive around Christmastide would be family. And once Christopher married and had a son, he or she would be a playmate for the future king.
“Your Highness.” Jacob took a seat across the desk and placed a stack of parchments on the oak surface. “As requested, background information on the families, finances, and friendships of your visitors, with particular attention paid to the three families you named. Specifically, the daughters of said families.”
Christopher leaned forward to pluck the papers from the desk, running a sharp eye over them, one by one.
“Was there a reason you wanted these?” Jacob asked.
Christopher glanced up at the question.
“Do I need to have a reason?” he asked softly.
Jacob grinned, unperturbed by Christopher’s steely tone.
“As the future king? Absolutely not,” he answered jovially. “As my brother-in-law – well, I suppose not, but it makes me damned curious.”
Christopher sighed and threw the papers back onto the table before leaning back. In truth, Jacob had become more a friend than a subject since his marriage to Harriet. A brother, even. And if Christopher were being honest, it was nice to have someone he could speak openly with. Especially with Alex so far away playing the English lord.
“I intend to marry one of the daughters.” He waved a hand over the parchment on the desk.
Jacob blinked in surprise.
“You do?” he finally broke the silence. “Which one?”
Redeeming A Royal (The Royals of Aldonia Book 3) Page 1