Royally Loved: The Royal Romances Books 1-5

by McKenna James

  “So you are familiar with the royal children? Abigail and Andrew?”

  “Ah, yes. Abigail and Andrew, of course.” I forced a smile.

  She looked at me skeptically. “What grade is Abigail in now?” she asked.

  “Uh … third?” I guessed.

  The disappointment on her face was obvious. “She’s in fifth.”

  “Ah … yeah. Uh, well… Admittedly, I don’t know much about the children. It’s more the queen I’ve read about. I mean, it’s kind of creepy to put children in the spotlight in my opinion. So I don’t really go out of my way to read about them.”

  There was an immediate awkward tension in the air, and I couldn’t tell why. Was it something I’d said?

  “My dear, you do know this is a position to tutor the children of the royal family, don’t you?”

  My jaw dropped. “No… Uh, no. I wasn’t aware of that.”

  Well, I looked like an absolute idiot now. If I’d known, I would’ve brushed up on information about the royal family. The only thing royal I knew at the moment was that I’d royally screwed this up.

  “I’m sorry. I’m truly sorry. I’m just a very busy person and don’t have the time to keep up on current events. It’s hard enough for me to follow American politics.”

  Ms. Mitchell nodded. "It's quite alright, I just wanted to make sure you knew. Let’s continue, shall we?”

  “Mmhmm,” I said through clenched lips. I had no idea how I was going to survive the rest of this interview when I’d already made such a fool of myself.

  Ms. Mitchell cleared her throat. “Have you worked with children in the past?”

  “Oh, yes, definitely. I was a nanny for a while. I was actually an au pair briefly—that was how I was able to move to London to study abroad in the first place.”

  “How do you like London?” she asked.

  “Oh, I absolutely love it. London is great.”

  “How long have you lived here again?” the man asked.

  “Several years. Since college.”

  “And for what reason did you decide to stay in London? Do you simply prefer London? Or perhaps you met someone?”

  I felt my cheeks warm with a blush. Did he just ask me if I had a boyfriend? Well I’d set him straight.

  “I fell in love.” I smiled lovingly. “With the glorious charm of London. The architecture, landscape, culture—that is why I stayed. My only love affair is with the city.”

  “So you haven’t met anyone then?” he challenged with a smirk. Had I not just answered that question?

  Ms. Mitchell stared at him with as much confusion as I was experiencing. “I don’t think that’s an appropriate question.”

  “Right, of course.” He nodded, to my relief. “Next question then… Do you have any children of your own?”

  “Edward!” Ms. Mitchell reprimanded him.

  Well, at least now I knew his name.

  “What?” Edward asked with a mischievous smile. “That seemed like a pertinent question to me. We’re trying to assess how she is with children, correct?”

  “We don’t need to know about her family situation to assess that,” Ms. Mitchell said sternly.

  “No, that’s quite alright,” I spoke up. “I don’t have children, though I hope to one day. I just haven’t met the right person.”

  He smiled at me. “Interesting.”

  Ms. Mitchell looked at him sternly, and he looked back with a jerk of his head. They were communicating but not verbally.

  From that point forward, Edward remained silent as Ms. Mitchell continued the interview. The final questions were a lot less personal in nature.

  I didn’t feel that any of my answers were redeeming. At the end of the interview, I thanked them both for their time, I knew I wasn’t going to get the job.

  I left disappointed but not altogether surprised. Especially not after discovering that it was the royal children they were looking for someone to tutor. It made complete sense to me now why there were so many applicants. There were certainly many more qualified people in that room than me, particularly when it came to knowledge on the royal family. Frankly, I wasn’t sure why they’d even entertain interviewing an American.

  When I got home, the first thing I did was go to my father’s bedroom to check on him. I didn’t like to leave him alone for more than an hour at a time these days. I had a caregiver some days who came to help with him, but nobody was coming in today.

  To my relief, he was asleep. Good, he needed to be resting. I shut the door quietly and exited the room.

  I wasn’t exactly looking forward to telling him I didn’t get the job. He had been so hopeful when I left. Despite his illness, he was always incredibly positive about everything. That was something I couldn’t relate to. As the days went by and he became more ill, I only felt more and more negative.

  Though I did my best not to appear positive and upbeat.

  I went to the kitchen to see what I could make for dinner. I had some thawed chicken breasts in the fridge that I forgot I had put out the night before and decided to season those and put them in the oven to bake.

  As the chicken cooked, I looked at the mail on the kitchen table. The caregiver must have brought it up the night before without my noticing. I flipped through it. It was mostly junk, but then I realized we’d received another letter from the hospital.

  No, not a letter … a bill.

  I sighed as I looked at the costs. I really had hoped I’d get this job so that these bills would stop piling up. It was so damn overwhelming.

  It looked as if I was going to be overwhelmed for the foreseeable future.

  2

  Edward

  “You are such a giant asshole!”

  I heard the high heel shoe coming toward me before I saw it. Even though it was coming from behind me, I ducked. I was expecting it.

  “An absolute dog! Do you not have any self-respect?”

  I turned around and smiled. “Some, yeah.”

  “Get the hell out of here!” she snapped at me.

  “Cecilia, I don’t know why you’re overreacting. I never said that we were together.”

  “You never said it? Six months of my life, Edward. Six months! Of course I thought we were exclusive.”

  “Well, you thought wrong. We were just dating. It’s not like I ever said I loved you or anything.”

  “It was implied!” she yelled out again.

  “By who?” I asked on a chuckle.

  “Ugh!” She threw her other shoe at me. “Get out of here before I call your mum and tell her what a cad you are!”

  “Gladly,” I muttered. I didn’t want her to dig any further into her shoe collection.

  Besides, I had somewhere to be. I was already running late for a series of interviews I had to assist Ms. Mitchell with. I shouldn’t have spent so much time at Cecilia’s this morning, but I didn’t expect that I was going to have to explain to her that we weren’t actually together.

  She was livid, but honestly, I didn’t think I’d done anything wrong. We weren’t an official anything. A fling. We had casual fun, as I had with all the ladies I courted, and were nothing more. Frankly, I never would have made things official with her. Not that I had the intention of making things official with anyone.

  I liked to date around. It suited my lifestyle more. Whenever felt things were getting a little too serious with a woman, I took the time to bow out.

  I hoped Ms. Mitchell wouldn’t be too mad about the fact that I was late. She was head of domestic work for my family, and I knew she wouldn’t hesitate to tattle to my mother regarding my bad behavior.

  Not that I cared too much about that, but I had enough trouble from my mother as it was. She was constantly urging me to be more responsible. She insisted I needed to stop partying and take my responsibilities to the crown more seriously. I would eventually inherit the throne after all.

  Hard to imagine, me as King. I couldn’t commit to a relationship, never mind being head of the roya
l family. But I was the oldest. I always knew that day would come.

  That was probably the reason why I was so steadfast about partying and shirking my responsibilities. One day, my life would be consumed of only my responsibilities to the crown and the people of my country. There would be no way I could decide to screw off and fly to the Bahamas with some friends for a few weeks. I wouldn’t have the freedom to do as I wished. I needed to get all that out of my system now.

  I’d tried to explain that to my mother many times over, but she didn’t seem concerned. She reminded me that the country needed to see me as someone trustworthy, amenable. She believed I was ruining my reputation.

  Who cared about my reputation? I was inheriting the throne regardless. It wasn’t as if they needed to vote me in. Who cared if the people liked me?

  I had my driver drop me off outside of the hotel where we were conducting interviews. I was looking down at my watch and trying to evaluate how late I was when I felt hot liquid pour down my suit.

  It took a second to process, and, admittedly, I was pretty damn angry at whoever spilled something on me. I looked up quickly and found a small form stumbling backward. I reacted in an instant and latched out to stabilize her. She found her footing and twisted toward me, her mouth agape in a shock of horror. I assessed the blue-eyed beauty standing in front of me and calmed down considerably.

  She was gorgeous, and I couldn’t deny I had a weak spot for gorgeous women.

  “Oh no. Oh my gosh,” she muttered to herself. “I’m so, so sorry!”

  Her voice was just about as cute as she was. She wasn’t British, that much was clear. She had a very pronounced American accent. The only thing that made me more forgiving than gorgeous women were gorgeous American women.

  I expected that once she took in my face, she’d realize who I was, and her apologies would become even greater. Not every day that you spilled coffee all over a prince after all.

  Even as she stared into my eyes, she didn’t seem to notice who I was.

  “It’s no problem at all, accidents happen,” I told her with a smile.

  She was quiet for a moment, and I thought maybe she was beginning to process who I was. Which was a bit of a bummer for me since it wasn’t often I got to interact with people who didn’t realize they were speaking to British royalty.

  “Here, let me get the door for you,” I told her before she had a chance make introductions.

  “Thank you. I’m so sorry about the coffee. Is there anything I can do? Pay for your shirt, maybe?” she asked.

  Pay for my shirt? Huh. Maybe she hadn’t realized who I was. I could certainly purchase another bloody shirt.

  “Nothing a good dry cleaning won’t fix,” I reassured her.

  “Well, again, I’m truly sorry,” she said as she stepped in front of me as I held the door.

  “It’s no problem at all. Have a wonderful day, Miss.”

  The last thing I wanted to do was say my goodbyes. This woman had intrigued me. I wished I could speak to her longer, but I was already running too late.

  She smiled. “You too.”

  I rushed past her into the conference room where Ms. Mitchell was waiting for me. She looked at me disapprovingly.

  “You almost didn’t make it, Prince Edward,” she told me.

  “Just a hectic morning, Ms. Mitchell. But despite what you’d like to believe, I do attempt to uphold the few responsibilities Mother has assigned to me.”

  She didn’t seem convinced that was true, but she didn’t argue it. Then she noticed the dark liquid that had permeated my shirt.

  “Edward, really? You couldn’t at least show up in a clean shirt?” she asked.

  “This happened right outside. Some young, distracted woman spilled her coffee all over me. It was unavoidable.”

  “Very well. You know there will be some people that leave this interview, and the first thing they’ll do is report back to some atrocious gossip magazine, who will have an entire article tomorrow about how disheveled you looked, speculating on the events of the night prior.”

  “So, let them speculate,” I said. “It’s nothing more than that.”

  “Unless, of course, you truly were getting into some debauchery the night prior,” she accused.

  “I wasn’t,” I assured her.

  Even though I completely was.

  “Are you ready to call in the first interviewee?” she asked.

  “Fire away.” I smiled as I took my seat.

  The first few interviews were cut and dry. Candidates with all the qualifications of which Mother desired—well-educated, punctual, uptight, and boorish. I’d have fallen asleep by now if Ms. Mitchell hadn’t been kicking me under the table to keep me awake. As the last candidate left the room, the concierge brought in mugs of tea while Ms. Mitchell left the table.

  I pulled my phone out of my pocket and turned around slightly to look at it, wondering if I had any messages from Cecilia. I didn’t want Ms. Mitchell coming back and being able to see my phone, so I shifted a bit to hide.

  There were no messages, to my relief. Hopefully we could move forward from this situation amicably.

  I heard the chair scrape against the floor and felt movement beside me, so I put my phone in my pocket and turned my attention toward the next interview. I started ahead for a moment, stunned. Before me with her legs crossed at the ankles, looking like a deer caught in the headlights, was the woman who spilled coffee on me this morning.

  I had been dreading these interviews, but, hey, if this gave me the opportunity to talk to her, I could handle it.

  Ms. Mitchell started off right away by asking her about the royal family. Which should have been interesting because based on the fact that she still hadn’t seemed to recognize me, I would guess she knew very little about the royal family.

  She lied, tried to pretend that she did. Ms. Mitchell tried to quiz her on what grade my little sister Abigail was in. She failed miserably.

  It had become pretty clear, not just to me but to Ms. Mitchell as well, that not only did this Maggie girl know nothing about the royal family, but she wasn’t even aware that she was going to potentially be hired by the royal family.

  “My dear, you do know this is a position to tutor the children of the royal family, don’t you?”

  Her jaw dropped. “No… Uh, no. I wasn’t aware of that.”

  She was flustered, but it only served to make her look even cuter. I wasn’t sure what it was about this woman, I found her absolutely adorable.

  “I’m sorry. I’m truly sorry. I’m just a very busy person and don’t have the time to keep up on current events. It’s hard enough for me to follow American politics.”

  Ms. Mitchell nodded. “It’s quite alright, I just wanted to make sure you knew. Let’s continue, shall we?”

  Ms. Mitchell proceeded to ask a few dull questions about her qualifications, something I couldn’t have cared less about. Not that I’d say it aloud, but this entire interview process seemed so stupid to me. We didn’t need to hold such extensive interviews for just a tutor. My brother and sister may have been royalty, but that didn’t mean they needed this much attention over their damn education—not at their ages. Education was important, but they were still children. Royal children at that.

  I had other questions I was interested in asking her, though they had nothing to do with her qualifications.

  “ Why did you decide to stay in London?” She’s already explained she’d came to London for school, but I was interested in what—or rather who if there was someone—had kept her here, so far away from home. “Do you simply prefer London? Or perhaps you met someone?”

  I saw no reason not to burst out and ask. I was curious… Was she single? This seemed like as good a time as any to find out.

  Her face grew red from the question, once again endearing her to me.

  “I don’t think that’s an appropriate question,” Ms. Mitchell scolded me, making her disapproval quite obvious.

  “Right,
of course.” I nodded, though I had no intention of stopping my line of questioning. “Next question, then… Do you have any children of your own?”

  “Edward!” Ms. Mitchell yelled at me.

  I grinned at her.

  “What? That seemed like a pertinent question to me. We’re trying to assess how she is with children, correct?”

  “We don’t need to know about her family situation to assess that,” Ms. Mitchell told me.

  “Um, no, that’s alright.” She surprised me by speaking up. “I don’t have children, though I hope to one day. I just haven’t met the right person.”

  “Interesting,” I answered, being quite obvious about my interest in her.

  Ms. Mitchell had had enough of me. She kicked me under the table again, this time right in the shin. I couldn’t deny it hurt. For an older woman, she had a powerful leg.

  I looked over at her, and she continued to stare me down, willing me to behave.

  It worked. As much as I’d have liked to ignore her, I couldn’t deny she had some authority over me. I would behave in the interview from there on out.

  I allowed Ms. Mitchell to do the rest of the talking. I had no questions about Maggie’s qualifications anyway. I did, however, hope Ms. Mitchell would continue to question her at length. As professional as always, she questioned Maggie only on her education and experiences in education and working with children. The luster of the moment faded even further from my grasp when the interview ended, I found myself quite disappointed. I didn’t want Maggie to leave. There was still so much about this lovely woman that had yet to learn.

  “Well, thank you so much for seeing me. I appreciate you two taking the time on behalf of the royal family.” She extended a hand to Ms. Mitchell and then to me.

  It was another mistake on her part, of course. I wasn’t here on behalf of the royal family—I was the royal family. She’d likely be embarrassed all over again to discover that she had been talking to the Prince of England this entire time. Even more so that she had spilled coffee on me.

  For a moment, I considered telling her that fact because of how cute she looked every time she was caught off guard. Ultimately I decided against it. I was kind of hoping she would get the job, and I didn’t want to mess with her chances.