The Billionaire King’s Heir (European Billionaire Beaus Book 3)

by Leslie North

  5

  “I honestly think if you invested a bit more time in the sessions with Lydia, we might have some more…success.”

  Felicity sat on the sofa in the spacious living area of the suite across from Rafael’s apartments. In the background, someone from the cleaning staff was tidying the room. Rafael could see that Felicity wanted to get up and lend a hand…but she held herself back. It was, he noted, one of the things that had sunk in from Felicity’s tutoring sessions with Lydia—that it wasn’t exactly seemly for royals to go crawling around after toys on the floor. He’d hired help to keep all of their private rooms clean—well, he’d rearranged the responsibilities of existing palace staff—but Felicity still insisted on doing much of it herself. He’d have to have Lydia talk to her about that at some point, too, but that was another battle for another day. At least she wasn’t shoveling things off the floor while holding a conversation with him.

  He hadn’t expected to have to hire Lydia for the new members in the royal family for a number of years yet. His brothers' wives wouldn’t be under as much public scrutiny as the future queen, and Rafael hadn’t planned on having anyone step into that role so soon. Things had not exactly gone according to plan.

  She picked up a small wicker basket, surveyed the toys scattered on the sofa, and glanced up at Rafael. “I don’t know if I have time for those kinds of sessions.”

  He did his best to temper a growing irritation. It was not easy to be a member of the royal family—he of all people knew that. But from the moment Hope had recovered from her illness two weeks ago, things had started to go downhill.

  He’d envisioned it as being a far smoother transition than it actually had been. He knew things had been challenging for her back in America when the news first broke, but enough time had passed now for other stories to make the front page. And besides, they were on his home turf, so at least half the audience to Felicity’s entrance into Stolvenian royalty should have been forgiving.

  Things just kept. Going. Wrong.

  Rafael had started things slowly—appearances for photo ops, walks with Hope in a stroller—and things had been dicey even then. Felicity couldn’t seem to concentrate on how to deal with the press. Her shoulders tightened before the questions even began. He tried his best to include her in lower-stakes events, but that was a risky game, too. There were no low-stakes events with the referendum approaching. And Felicity didn’t seem to understand the rules they were playing by.

  He checked his watch. “Don’t you have a session in fifteen minutes?” Lydia was a regal woman in her sixties who gave every impression of being royal without actually being a member of the ruling family. She knew all the ins and outs of the etiquette and bearing that family members needed to observe, and she’d been teaching them since Rafael was a child.

  Felicity gave a little sigh. “There’s so much to do. I’m always bouncing between checking up on Joy and getting Hope ready for the next…appearance.” She sorted the toys with renewed fervor. “Hope will be awake from her nap any moment, and—”

  “And there are plenty of caretakers on staff. Specifically, one who was hired to tend to her needs while you took care of your royal duties.” He saw the look she flashed up at him. “You do have royal duties, Felicity. You’re the mother of my child, and you’re going to be my wife, so—”

  “All right.” Felicity stood up, brushing her hands on the front of her skirt. “I’ll go to the session today. But I’m not sure it’ll fix anything. When I get in those situations, I still feel like a fish out of water.”

  His heart twisted. “I know it must be hard, moving to a new country, and settling into all kinds of customs you’re not used to.” On instinct, he reached out and took her hand. “But it’ll be easier with practice. I promise. In fact—” The idea came to him in a burst of inspiration. “I’ll attend the session with you.”

  Felicity didn’t say no, but she did manage to stall for a few more minutes by finding the nanny and giving her extra instructions about Hope’s post-nap routine. Still, she brightened as they stepped into the meeting room where Lydia waited.

  “I brought a guest with me today,” she told the elegant, silver-haired woman brightly.

  “Good afternoon, Felicity,” said Lydia. She was warm and welcoming, and her attitude was no exception—everyone seemed to like Felicity. That’s why it had been such a trying three weeks. It should have been just a little easier. “King Rafael will come in handy.” She inclined her head toward Rafael, a bit of protocol that struck him as both outdated and comforting at the same time.

  “What do you have in mind?” Rafael noticed that in Lydia’s presence, Felicity kept her hands neatly folded in front of her. It was the perfect pose for a queen to use. So there was some progress being made, just not enough.

  “We’ll be practicing our maneuvers,” Lydia said, gesturing to a rack of gowns set up next to a privacy screen. “It’s essential to understand how to move through various spaces with more challenging hems and trains.”

  Rafael saw it then. The room had been set up as an obstacle course. Some tables were pressed close together, while others had objects perched dangerously close to the edge.

  Felicity’s brow wrinkled as she took in Lydia’s meaning, but then she clapped her hands gamely. “Let’s do it.”

  Lydia gave her the faintest frown. “A little loud, dear.”

  “Right,” said Felicity, then made a hasty departure behind the privacy screen. “Lydia, what’s the worst crowd situation you’ve ever had to navigate?”

  Lydia shook her head with a wry smile. “Without a doubt, it was one situation that involved King Rafael.” He was instantly on alert, but there was no possible way he would interrupt her. “Of course, he wasn’t the king, then.”

  Felicity came out from behind the privacy screen wearing a stunning jewel-toned dress with an impossibly long train. She dragged it out behind her, then studied the layout of the room. “Should I—”

  “Through the tables, dear, to Rafael. Then we can discuss how to maneuver the dress when standing with others. The challenge of the event was that it was a dance for the middle grades in Rafael’s private school.”

  Rafael had to stifle a groan.

  “I was there in a sort of chaperone capacity,” said Lydia, laughing a little at the memory. “Of course, I always dressed formally for events involving the royal family. I didn’t anticipate having to wade through so many preteen boys in my formalwear. They were—”

  “Must we describe it?” cut in Rafael. He tried to be good-natured. He really did. But school had been difficult enough without being a prince. Part of him was impressed at how easily Felicity had been able to get Lydia to open up, but more of him wanted this trip down memory lane to stop.

  “They were wild,” continued Lydia. “One of the young men was swinging his arms—” She imitated the movement, and Felicity laughed. “None of them cared a whit about the protocol, and I found myself having to step in.” By this point, Felicity wasn’t even pretending to move through the tables in the gown. She was standing still, her hands to her mouth, laughing at Rafael. “He—”

  “Enough.” Rafael’s voice came out more sharply than he’d anticipated, and both women turned to him, eyes wide. He struggled to temper his embarrassment. With Lydia speaking about that time in his life, it was like he was right back there, and he hated it. He took in a deep breath and let it out as slowly as he could. “Let’s move on.”

  She inclined her head gracefully. “Of course, King Rafael.” Guilt flared and died. He would, no doubt, receive a written note of apology from her within the day. Then he’d need to send back his own note to apologize for being so brusque.

  Lydia did not seem to be bothered in the least.

  She took Felicity through her paces, setting up course after course of tables and chairs.

  “When you sit, be sure to sweep the train of the gown under you so that it doesn’t bunch,” said Lydia, nearly thirty minutes later. “And
when you rise, look down for a moment before you do.” Then it was up and down, up and down, until Felicity’s face was pink with the effort of managing the gown. On the last run-through, she tripped on the hem and nearly toppled over.

  “I believe that’s all for the day,” Lydia said, watching Felicity. “Next time, we’ll work on table manners.”

  “Table manners?” Felicity’s eyebrows rose.

  “Of course. You’ll be photographed at many of the royal events.” Lydia laughed, reaching out to put a hand on Felicity’s elbow. “Not the basics, dear. Table manners for royalty.” Lydia turned and dipped a small curtsy to Rafael. “Your Highness.” He nodded back to her, and she swept from the room.

  Felicity made to follow Lydia out of the room. “Wait, Felicity.”

  She stopped, biting her lip, and faced him. “Am I being sent to the principal’s office?” The hesitancy disappeared from her face, replaced with a kind of quiet defiance.

  “I wouldn’t know what that’s like,” he shot back. “No one ever sent me there.”

  He expected her to snark back at him—to tell him of course not, you’ve always been royalty—but Felicity’s shoulders sagged. “I believe that. You’re good at this.” She sat, gathering the long train behind her and flipping it out of her way with one hand. It was the most elegant movement he’d seen from her all day. “I’m good at some things. I was good at my job. I was great at talking to people, helping them, finding them solutions…” Her voice trailed off. “I guess it doesn’t translate.”

  His heart softened. “In a way, it does. But part of being in human resources is making sure others follow the rules, right?”

  “True.” She shrugged. “But I didn’t have to memorize them. I could look them up.” Hope brightened her eyes. “Maybe we need a database of the royal rules.”

  “Would that help?” Felicity seemed to struggle so much with following all of the protocol at the same time. “Because if it would help, I could have some people get together and work on it.”

  “It might,” Felicity said, giving a little shrug. “There are so many things to remember at any given time. I know I haven’t taken to it easily, but it’s like learning to swim after never having been in the water. Plus…”

  “What is it?”

  “Oh, it’s nothing.”

  “Tell me.” He stood up straighter.

  “You’re so perfect at all of it. And I know I’m playing catch-up, but…” She screwed up her lips. “It’s always going to be more obvious that I’m learning when I’m standing next to you. That’s…not always easy. I’m not sure if I’ll ever…” Her voice softened, and when she looked into his eyes, something shifted in Rafael’s chest. You’ll be fine, he said. Once we can be ourselves, you’ll be fine. But he couldn’t say that out loud. It might never be the case that they could let their guards down entirely.

  “You’ll have to,” he said, knowing that it wasn’t what she wanted to hear. “It’s what everyone in the royal family needs to do.”

  Felicity pressed her lips together, saying nothing.

  “After the referendum passes, we’ll have the rest of our lives to figure out what’s next.” If anything, he thought, but didn’t say it.

  There was a pause, and he could see in Felicity’s face that she was thinking of arguing. In the end, she stood up, surprisingly gracefully, and moved toward the privacy screen at the back of the room. “I’m going to get changed,” she said. “I’ll be on time for my next session.”

  He watched her go, wanting to call her back but not ready to face the impending discussion at the same time. All the history had been too much. He found himself peering at his shoes.

  “Rafael?” Felicity’s voice was soft, tentative. “Was there something else you needed?”

  What he needed was for the referendum to go in his favor. What he needed was to somehow go back in time and make all of this go differently, so it wouldn’t be so painful. But he knew that digging in now would only exhaust them both.

  “The gown looks beautiful on you,” he said, and then he went out, back to his work.

  6

  Hope lifted the silver tea set carefully in her chubby hands, and Felicity hesitated. She wanted to give her daughter a chance to master pouring tea, but this was a little more than she’d bargained for when she and Joy, along with the nanny, Sara, had planned this little tea party. After the lesson that Rafael had cut short, Felicity had been feeling more than a little defeated. Joy had noticed.

  “Let’s do something fun,” she'd suggested. “Something with Hope. It’s hard to be so down around her. She’s staying in rooms fit for a princess—let’s have a princess tea party.”

  Sara had jumped right into the idea with more enthusiasm than Felicity had expected. “We can hold it in the playroom,” said Sara. “I know where to get the sets from the kitchens.”

  “The kitchens?” Felicity hadn’t known what to make of that. “I’m sure there are some dishes and things among Hope’s toys that we can use. There’s no need to—”

  “Hush,” Sara said, with the easy authority of someone who was used to making plans and carrying them out. “The party will be set for tomorrow afternoon.”

  The tea set that Sara had brought up from the kitchen was perfect—Felicity had to admit it. It was about half the size of a regular set, not quite miniature but small enough for Hope’s tiny hands to easily handle while still being large enough that they wouldn’t have to just mime drinking from them. Sara had even gone to the trouble of mixing lemonade for Hope to pour.

  The girl was in her element. There was no shortage of fancy play dresses in the wardrobe that Rafael insisted on ordering, and she wore a pink frilly number with a matching headband. Sara had dressed her in it while Felicity got ready for the party, giving her a pang of guilt. It had been easy to step away for a moment. She hadn’t had that kind of leeway at home. But maybe it wasn’t the right thing to do, to take advantage of it.

  “All right,” she said, smoothly as she could. “Tip the spout toward the cup, and pour the tea…” Hope stuck out her tongue in concentration, holding her hands as steady as she could. Felicity wanted to cheer as Hope filled the first cup. Then she thrust the teapot toward Felicity.

  “Mama’s turn.”

  Her daughter beamed up at her, and Felicity tried to smile back. As the queen, she would someday be expected to host teas and receptions for the women of the court, and Lydia had tried to prepare her by having her practice over and over again. Rather than filling her with confidence and certainty, she now just felt a sinking dread whenever she saw a teapot. But she couldn’t let her anxieties spill over onto her precious child.

  It’s only a game, Felicity told herself. Hope certainly won’t know the difference—and you’re doing this to make her happy.

  “Now we pour for all our friends,” she said to Hope, who was still watching her like a hawk. She poured the rest of the tea, offered milk and sugar, and sat down in her seat around the little table, back straight. Hope climbed into the chair next to her. “In order to drink our tea…” She demonstrated the next move, lifting the cup from the saucer. “We lift our cup, drink…” Felicity took a sip of the “tea.” It was delicious. “Mmm. It’s very good.”

  Hope copied her exactly. “Mmm. Is very good,” she repeated, and Felicity thought her heart would burst.

  She guided Hope through picking a cookie from the assortment and refilling the teacups, and it wasn’t until she guided the conversation into completely appropriate small talk that she felt him there.

  Rafael.

  Felicity looked up into his face, her cheeks reddening, but his face was full of…pride.

  “Hello,” she said, sitting straight and offering him her hand, bowing her head. “King Rafael. How lovely for you to stop by.” The words tasted so formal and odd in her mouth that the heat in her face kicked up another notch.

  “That was perfect,” he said, and she could hear the sincerity ringing in his voice.

>   “Oh,” she said, waving him off. “It was nothing. We were just having a tea party, weren’t we, Hope?” She smiled down at her daughter.

  “No,” protested Rafael. “You were flawless. The serving, the conversation…” He trailed off as if he didn’t know quite what to say. Felicity knew better. It would be a little rude, wouldn’t it, to remark on how terribly she’d struggled with the other lessons in royalty? Even with this lesson—when practiced in a different context?

  In any case, she couldn’t stop smiling. “Anyone for more tea? Rafael?”

  * * *

  He couldn’t believe it.

  Felicity had served the tea like she’d been doing it all her life.

  Hope gave a yawn, and Sara was there in an instant, scooping the little girl up from her chair. “Naptime,” she called cheerfully, and bent down so Felicity could kiss Hope’s cheek. Then they were gone, bustling out the door.

  “I’ve got some things to catch up on, now that the party’s over,” said Joy, wheeling herself after them. “Don’t let that tea go to waste.” She winked, and then she was gone, too.

  “You did well,” said Rafael, and Felicity stood up.

  “Thank you.” She kept her eyes firmly on the table, on the tea set and cups and saucers, still mostly filled with lemonade. “I should get this cleaned up and—”

  “No.” He knew he shouldn’t do it. He shouldn’t touch her. But he couldn’t stop himself from putting a hand on her elbow. “You were wonderful.”

  Felicity met his eyes, her own gaze hot. She licked her bottom lip with the tip of her tongue and Rafael wanted nothing more than to kiss her, to run his own tongue over that lip. “Thank you for noticing,” she whispered. Rafael’s hand was still on her arm, and Felicity took one step forward, closing the distance between them.

  His own breath seemed rough and ragged in his throat, and the air was charged with an energy that left him feeling like there wasn’t quite enough oxygen in the room. Felicity didn’t pull away, and he lifted his hand and brushed his knuckles against the soft skin of her cheek.