BABY ROYAL

by Bella Grant

  What was I thinking, goading a woman into my mess? If she wanted to leave, I should have let her. One less to deal with. Yet I felt compelled to beg her to stay.

  Marissa was coming out of the office I used when we walked in, and our entrance caught not only her attention, but that of all the other women who still waited. “Mr. Jameson, will she be the next interviewee?” Marissa asked out of a sense of duty. I had been working with her long enough to know she disapproved.

  “She is,” I replied sternly. “Is there a problem?”

  She pulled me aside, something she never did, and it surprised me. “Don’t tell me you are seriously considering her,” she whispered when she was out of the woman’s earshot.

  “What’s wrong with her?” I wanted to know, and I glanced at Anna, who did look strikingly out of place. She stood in the center of the room, her red hair a glaring contrast to the black attire she clinging to her, revealing her curves and a peek of her cleavage. The other women remained withdrawn from her, like she was some kind of scourge, and it fascinated me.

  Marissa stopped walking and looked back. “Look at her,” she said, like whatever she was showing me was obvious. “She doesn’t carry herself like the woman she claims to be. Look,” she said and pulled me aside as she rifled through the sheets in her grasp. “This says she is in the fashion industry and comes from money. The girl can barely stand straight in her stilettos.”

  I hadn’t noticed, but as if in punctuation, Anna dipped as she made a bad step. She rocked into a group of women who promptly pulled back. She steadied herself against the chairs, and I could detect traitorous tears as they formed in the corners of her eyes, just above bright red cheeks flushed with embarrassment. The entire picture was one of innocence, and I chuckled.

  “Still, she came here. I’ll see what she’s about,” I told Marissa and signaled for Anna to follow me into the office.

  She seemed unsure of her next stop, and I was amused a little as I watched her wobble on her first step. She appeared to be focusing on her movement, or maybe she was just conscious of the stares from the other women after her embarrassing stint earlier. She looked up at me, and a smile worked its way across her face as she regained her composure and held her head high as she followed me. When she got to the office, she stood tentatively by the door, waiting for me to acknowledge her before she sat. I nodded at her and she quickly sat, her back not resting against the cushion as she perked up and locked her fingers in her lap.

  “So,” I began after she was seated. She was perched on the edge of the seat, obviously nervous. “Are you nervous?” I glowered at her, intimidating her intentionally. I thought that might be a good sign, and that she, after all, might be someone I could control.

  “N-no,” she began. Then, “Yes, maybe a little.” She smiled. “I’ve never done this before.”

  “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’ve never done this before either.” I smiled, hoping she would open up a little more and make this process easier for me.

  She stared at me through eyes of deep shades of brown and waited for me to continue. Unusual again. Women of her stature were normally chatty. All the women I’d seen so far had been, and a few had even tried to tell me how they thought our life together would be. But I needed a bride, not a master, and the more subservient, the better.

  “Not many people know this, but I’m technically being forced into this…marriage. By the looks of things, you don’t want to be here either. Am I right?” That was the only conclusion I could draw based on her body language. Maybe she was nervous because she had to do something she didn’t want to do either. Which made her even more perfect for me.

  “Yes,” she eventually said. “This wasn’t something I planned for. It just came to me, and here I am.”

  “Makes two of us.” I didn’t want to drag this out any longer than I had to. “So, here’s the thing. I’m looking for someone to be my bride. This isn’t about love. It’s strictly business. You will go with me to social engagements, we will have children, and you’ll…well, look pretty. I don’t have any expectations from you other than showing up with me in public.”

  She had a dazed look on her face. “I-I don’t think I understand. So this is a marriage, but not really one?”

  “Something like that,” I assured her and relaxed into my chair. “Does that not work for you, because if it doesn’t then—”

  “Oh, it’s fine,” she hastened to say, but her disappointment was evident on her face. “I wasn’t looking for love, or a fairytale, or anything like that either.”

  “It’s probably best this way anyway,” I ventured to say, but I didn’t look at her when I spoke. “Love isn’t my thing, and this is less complicated.”

  Her face fell and I wasn’t sure why. I made it clear on the site what I wanted, and she said she didn’t want love either. And now she was disappointed? But even in her disappointment, there was something mysterious about her that drew me to her. I wanted her to be my bride, and I didn’t need to interview the other women in the other room to know that.

  “If that is all right with you, we can go ahead with the necessary paperwork,” I said, my tone business-like. “I’ll call you with more details as soon as I have them, but this will be immediate.”

  Her eyes widened. “You… does that mean… are you saying… what?”

  I couldn’t help smiling. “It means I’ve made my choice. You will be my bride.”

  I didn’t know if I expected a celebration of some sort, but her face remained blank. She sat robotically still, blinking rapidly with her mouth slightly ajar.

  “Okay,” she muttered, but she remained immobile.

  I got up, assuming my action would spur her. She slid back in the chair and stood too. I extended my hand to her—a strange way of interacting with one’s bride—and gave her a half smile. Her face twitched as she placed her small hand in mine—a hands that wasn’t as soft as I had expected.

  I accompanied her to the door and signaled to Marissa. My decision didn’t go over so well with her, but it was my decision and she could only be disgruntled in silence. I watched Anna as she exited the room and noticed the other women’s eyes following her out. The whisperings began, and they all turned back to me.

  “Thank you for your time, and I want you to know that I’ve made my decision. Thank you all for coming.”

  I turned and returned to the room. Before I closed the door, I heard whisperings and unpleasant remarks hurled at Anna and at me. But what did I care? I had found my bride.

  Now all I had to do was find out exactly who she was!

  Anna

  I wasn’t sure how to feel, but I was almost certain it should involve more elation. I had gone to the hotel under false pretenses, with every intention of marrying a man while making him think I was wealthy. I was in the wrong, yet when I exited the room, ironically, I felt used. I didn’t know what I thought would come out of this, but maybe this was better. If he came too close—wanted to get to know me better—he would discover I was nothing like the girl on the profile.

  “Who did he choose?” one thin blonde girl asked a row of confused faces.

  “Is it you, Davina?” another of the lot asked.

  I looked straight ahead as I made a beeline through the gathering crowd. I hoped no one would ask me anything because I wouldn’t want to tell them he had chosen me. They hadn’t approved of me before, and they were right in doing so. I wasn’t a part of their circle, and I wasn’t sure how long I could fake it.

  I hurried down the hallway that seemed twice the length I’d traveled before, hot tears stinging the corners of my eyes as I fled the scene like an escaped convict. I was hyperventilating by the time I got outside, and I clutched my tightening chest. I felt like the noose that had been tightening around my neck had snapped and I could breathe again. I gasped for air and looked around frantically for any means of escape. I seized it in the nearest cab and felt the pressure lift as the car merged with the afternoon traffi
c and the hotel grew smaller in the distance.

  I relaxed against the worn, cracking leather seat of the cab, feeling more comfortable than I had been in the five-star hotel. The luxurious accommodation was lost in my anxiety and trepidation over my current predicament. I was about to become a bride to a man who didn’t care to love me.

  My legs were heavy when I got out of the cab at the Sampson estate. Henrietta must have been waiting for me, because she met me at the door with wild-eyed wonder.

  “So, how did it go?” she asked excitedly.

  “He chose me,” I replied and edged past her.

  She grabbed my hand and stopped me from going any further. “Then why the long face?”

  Her eyes searched mine, but I felt numb. “Because, who am I kidding? I can’t do this.” I already felt the weight of it crushing me, and my legs began to wobble. I slipped hastily out of the shoes and remembered I needed to change before her mother saw me wearing her clothes. “I need to change now.”

  “It’s all right,” she said and pulled me to her room. “They aren’t here.”

  I stumbled along behind her until we were in her safe haven, the one place in the house I didn’t feel like I was under anyone’s scrutiny and where I was equal to Henrietta. Although that was purely imaginary—she was my better in every way. She could have pulled this off. Not me.

  Henrietta pulled me down onto the bed next to her, her eyes curious for the entire story. “You do realize you can’t back out now, right?” she said almost timidly, like she was gauging my reaction.

  “I don’t see how I can do this,” I replied. I felt flushed as the heat traveled through my body and warmed my face. I was nervous and anxious and had absolutely no idea what I was doing or what I was getting myself into. “He will know what I am the moment I set foot in his house. I don’t even want to think about what will happen—”

  “Listen to me!” Henrietta said authoritatively. “You need to stop this talk. Women do this all the time. Do you really believe all those women were always rich? And even if they have been, he still chose you. That means he saw something in you, even more than the money. He isn’t after the money, so if you try to remember the things I’ve been teaching you, you’ll be fine. Now quit worrying. When is the wedding?”

  She always had a way of talking that made me feel like an idiot. “He said he’d call.”

  “Well, I imagine it will be soon, so you better get back to practicing. Now you really need to know about fine dining, and wines, and stuff like that.”

  I already felt overwhelmed just thinking about what Henrietta would teach me, because I remembered what an overload it had been the last few times.

  “Mom won’t be home in the morning, so we can work on it then, okay?” She rocked into me as she spoke.

  “Ugh,” was my reply as I fell back against the bed. What I was thinking when I let Henrietta talk me into this? But I still had time to back out…and then what? The words came to mind immediately after I thought of quitting, and so did the images of my mother and sister at the shelter. If getting them out of that horrible place meant deceiving a billionaire into marrying me, then it would be worth it. If I pulled it off!

  I left Henrietta’s room shortly after to finish chores assigned to me. I moved robotically from one room to the next until I couldn’t feel my legs under me. Raymond called later that evening and told me we would handle the formalities the following week. I needed to get my things in order because I’d move in with him the same day. What things? I didn’t have anything to get into order—I had nothing!

  I sighed as I curled up against the quilting on the twin bed I occupied in the servants’ quarters. In another week, I’d be married, and I wasn’t ready. This wasn’t the fairytale beginning I had dreamed about as a girl.

  I didn’t realize when I’d fallen asleep, except that Henrietta’s voice came through loudly in my ears what felt like minutes after.

  “Come on, Anna,” she said as she rocked me awake. “We don’t have much time.”

  “What time is it?” I groaned and rubbed the remainder of the sleep from my eyes.

  “Time to get up,” she ordered and yanked the quilt from me.

  I looked around, half expecting to see bright rays of sunlight streaking through the windows. Instead, I only saw the quiet darkness interrupted by Henrietta’s demands on me. “It’s not even day time yet,” I scoffed and attempted to roll over.

  She wouldn’t have it. “Oh no you don’t! Mom just left, and I don’t know when she’ll be back, so you need to get up.”

  I sighed. “Can’t you bring me some utensils and show me here? It doesn’t have to be in the dining room.”

  “Are you serious? That would be like teaching someone how to swim in the bathtub,” she insisted.

  I snickered at her comment. “It’s not that ridiculous.”

  “It is. You have to use them…not just know them.”

  “Okay, fine!” I relented and swung my feet to the side of the bed. I wasn’t sure if I was discouraged about all of this —learning how to be proper—because of the circumstances of my marriage, or if it was the fact that there was nothing to be excited about. Henrietta was more excited than I was, which was sad.

  I didn’t realize it would take so long for me to understand the usage of proper silverware and china. Henrietta was a bulldog, and she barked orders constantly. “Use this! Don’t put that there! Start from the outside and work your way in! Remove your hand! Chew like this! Don’t mumble!”

  By the time she had finished teaching me, I really didn’t want to do any of it. I felt like I was in a drill squad, in the rain, as she showered me with orders. We were getting into what to do after dinner had been served when her mother walked in.

  I froze. She had never seen me at the dining table before, and I wasn’t supposed to be there. I found the nerve and stood hastily. “I beg your pardon, ma’am,” I said with my head low and my shame high.

  She didn’t say anything. She sneered and looked disapprovingly at Henrietta. “Henrietta, come with me!”

  My heart thumped in my chest as I imagined what she would tell her. She had never made it a secret that she didn’t like the relationship that had developed between Henrietta and me. She didn’t want her daughter to be friends with the help—someone of her status should not do it. Henrietta hadn’t cared, and as often as her mother wasn’t around, she was with me until we had become great friends.

  Even though she had money and I had none, we shared the same fate. We lived in a world where neither of us had friends, so we were led to become friends by our circumstances. Henrietta was nothing like her mother or any of the people I’d seen come to the house. She hated the class system and the rules. I was only learning them, and I already hated them.

  As soon as Mrs. Sampson left with her, I hurried to complete my chores. Henrietta had not returned by the afternoon, when I had free time. I suspected her mother had confined her to the library with some boring world or political study that would occupy the rest of her day. Though so ladylike, she was only eighteen and still very much under her parents’ thumb.

  I was glad when it was time to leave the estate. I could use the fresh air to both clear and gather my thoughts. My mind reverted instantly to Raymond. I couldn’t deny he was a handsome man—chiseled cheekbones, prominent cheeks, lips that appeared soft yet reluctant to smile. He was tall with an even-toned skin, no doubt with rippling muscles underneath the suit he wore. I imagined the way his hands would feel on my body, how his touch would provoke my sensuality, and how lost I’d get in his kiss. I felt my body responding to my thoughts, and before I got carried away, I ended them abruptly. Raymond Jameson didn’t want a wife. He wanted a bride. I would have only dreams.

  Nothing had changed at the shelter, and as I climbed the cracked steps and ducked under the ripped awning that fluttered in the slight wind, I was greeted by the familiar stench of poverty and defeat. Teresa felt a bit better, it seemed, because she was playing wit
h dolls with another girl. Her eyes lit up when she saw me come in.

  “Hey,” I called as I scooped her up. “How’s my little sis doing?”

  “I missed you.” She smiled and hugged me so tightly she temporarily cut off my air.

  “I missed you too, sweetie,” I replied and squeezed her. I could detect the smell of sweat and dirt in her hair, and when I looked at my mother’s unkempt hair and ragged clothing, I grew weak with despair. Seeing them again gave me a renewed sense of hope, and I knew I had to marry Raymond if I wanted to rescue my family from the grip of sickness and imminent death.

  “Hey, Mom,” I called as I got closer to her.

  “I didn’t think I’d see you so soon,” she replied through coughs and sputters.

  “I have something to tell you,” I said before I lost my nerve. “Hey, T, could you go play with your friend for a little while? I need to talk to Mom.”

  “Okay,” she said, and hopped down. She walked away, then stopped and turned. “You won’t leave without saying goodbye, will you?”

  She was so innocent and looked so angelic it brought tears to my eyes. “I won’t. I promise,” I told her. She smiled and skipped off, totally oblivious to the horrible condition of her present life.

  “What’s wrong, Anna?” Mom asked immediately, the concern in her voice evident in its shakiness. “Did you lose the job?”

  “Oh, no,” I hastened to assure her. “I didn’t lose the job.” I paused as I mustered the courage to continue. “I’m getting married.”

  Her eyes bulged and her lips quivered. “What?”

  “Yep. I’m getting married to a rich man, and as soon as I’m able, I’m getting you and Teresa out of this place.”

  “A rich man? Are you crazy, Anna? Does he know who you are?”

  “No, he doesn’t, Mom,” I replied sadly. “I saw him on this site where men go to find brides. I’ve already met him, and he’s decided he wants to marry me. But it won’t be like a real marriage, you know. He wants someone to have babies with, and—”