Only a few people murmur “thank you,” as they’re too busy gaping at the entrance hall. It is a relic. Stone walls with large open hearths. Centuries-old tapestries on the wall. There’s even a shining suit of armor in the corner. Not that we ever had an army of medieval knights here. It was a decoration from a former French resident back when Beaumont was a French colony. The large crystal chandelier overhead is relatively new.
I direct some servants to assist with assembling sleeping areas in the conservatory and ballroom with the supplies that should be coming in the servants’ entrance soon, carried by our drivers. I already called ahead to have the guest rooms prepared.
I pull Marge aside. “I’ll leave it to you to divvy up the guest rooms as you see fit.”
“Yes, of course.” She goes over to the couple with the toddler first, speaking in a low tone. Smart. We don’t want disgruntled guests over who gets the guest room and who gets a blanket on the floor of the conservatory. I know her priority will always be the children, and she’ll make sure they stick close with their families and are comfortable.
“Polly?” my mother’s voice calls with a note of alarm.
A servant must’ve alerted her to the goings-on.
I cross to her, and she stares in horror at my head, where I’m sporting a cap with a local dive shop logo. It’s no veil, that’s for sure. Not approved for a princess in public, but then neither is my entire outfit, which she’s now eyeing. The cap is from Vaughn’s brother, who gave it to me to shield my eyes from the sun. I take off the cap and smooth out my unruly curly hair. “These people have lost their homes in the storm. They’ll be staying at the palace for temporary shelter.”
Her hand goes to her throat. “Who are these people?”
“They are our people, and they’ve come to us seeking refuge. I’ve granted it.”
She glances around nervously. “This is most unorthodox. Your father is in his study with Peter. You’d best go see him immediately.” Her hand flutters in the air. “Where are the guards?” She lowers her voice. “These people could be dangerous.”
“We’re in a state of emergency. This is the time for unorthodox.” I give her shoulder a squeeze. “Please make them feel welcome. The guards are assisting the drivers with supplies for our guests. I will go to inform Papa.”
I head for his study. I’m glad to hear that Peter made it to the palace because that means at least one road along the northwest side of the island has been cleared. I’ve spent all of my time in the central area today since access to the northern roads was blocked. These fifty people had walked into the central area in search of food.
I knock on the study door and my father barks, “Enter!”
I step inside, bow my head, and curtsy. “Papa.”
He’s seated on a throne-like highback chair. Peter is adjacent to him in a smaller upholstered chair. An end table between them holds a decanter of brandy and two glasses, nearly empty. Peter, a bald man in his late forties with a paunch, looks very pleased at my arrival. He doesn’t smile, but his dark eyes gleam as they rake me from head to toe. I suppress a shudder.
I take a seat on the leather sofa across from them.
My father speaks in a jovial tone. “I’m glad you’re here, daughter. Peter arrived for dinner with you and has been waiting for quite some time.” He trails off, suddenly noticing what I’m wearing. “I can see I should’ve prepared you for his visit. Please go change into something more appropriate.” He flicks his hand at me. “Be quick about it.”
I glance at Peter, offering a brief “hello” before telling my father, “Some guests will be staying with us until the island is restored to order. They’ve lost their homes in the storm.”
His brows knit. “What do you mean with us? This is a private residence.”
I speak in a level tone. I’m not here to argue the point. It is done. “This residence was originally built with the tax levied on the islanders; therefore, it partly belongs to them.”
He blusters. “It does not belong to them! The palace has been in the Lyon family for centuries. You can’t just invite people to stay here off the street.”
I gesture toward the door. “You are king. Of course, it is your right to evict them. Go to the entrance hall and inform them that you will be turning them out. Be sure to start your speech with ‘my loyal subjects,’ as you so often do.”
I am insolent, out of line, headstrong, impossible. Every label my father has ever placed on me is apparent in his narrow-eyed glare. I don’t even flinch. My only concern is our people.
Peter studies me, his thin lips pulling into a frown. He probably thinks I’m too bold. I will no longer apologize for my true nature. Marge is right. All of my so-called flaws are my true assets and absolutely necessary for the leadership of Beaumont.
My father gets up with some effort and pulls the bell for a servant. Looks like he’s actually going through with evicting our guests. Or maybe he’s calling my bluff. Two can play at that game.
“I can help you walk there,” I say.
“You have done enough,” my father snaps.
I bow my head.
A few minutes later, my father makes his way to the entrance hall with two servants assisting him, one supporting him by the arm, the other behind him should he falter.
I trail behind him with Peter.
“You’re looking well, Your Highness,” Peter says to me. “I’m just sorry you had to return home to such chaos.”
“Thank you. I’m glad to be here. What are the conditions in the north?”
He exhales sharply. “My resorts are gone, unsalvageable.”
“I’m truly sorry to hear it. Will you rebuild?”
“That depends on you. I’m here to remind you of our understanding.”
I lower my voice. “I’d like to speak to you in private. Perhaps after this, we could go to the salon.”
He gives me a sly smile as though I’ve propositioned him. “I would very much like that, Your Highness.”
“Excellent.”
I can feel him staring at me as we walk, his eyes boring into the side of my face and then lower, looking his fill. He’s never seen me without my veil and modest dress. I don’t care. My mind is three steps ahead, figuring out how best to deal with him.
As soon as we arrive in the entrance hall, our butler intones, “His Majesty, King Henri.”
The assembled guests immediately bow their heads.
My mother goes to his side and whispers something. Is she working with me or against me? Security has arrived. I spot Vaughn and a few other palace guards posted against the back wall.
My father lifts a shaky hand and quickly drops it. He doesn’t want the public to see his tremors. “My loyal subjects…” He pauses, taking in the assembled group.
The room goes utterly silent. An elderly man coughs, his thin body closing in on itself. And then a little girl, maybe three, with long dark brown tangled hair wails, “I’m hungry!”
My father freezes, his eyes locked on that little girl.
Her mother shushes her, and the girl runs to my father, stopping in front of him. “Eat!” she declares.
My father stares down at her, seeming at a loss.
The girl’s mother scoops her up, apologizing profusely.
“Hungry!” the girl wails as she’s carried away.
I couldn’t have asked for a better appeal to my father. That would’ve been me at that age, only I would’ve tried to find the food myself, climbing kitchen counters if I had to.
My father turns to me in question. Will you feed the girl?
You bet. I seize the moment, announcing, “Great idea! Let’s all head to the parlor, where food will be arriving shortly, courtesy of King Henri.”
I signal for a servant to direct our guests before crossing to my father. “Well done.”
He bristles but recovers quickly, taking ownership of my plan. “A king must be sure his people are fed.”
“And sheltered.”
I ignore that. He’s conceding to them being here and that’s all that matters. I’m not sure how long I can convince him to let them stay, but hell, maybe they’ll grow on him. It must be lonely here, just him, my mother, and assorted servants rattling around this old cavernous place.
“Papa, I would like to meet with Peter in the private salon.”
His gaze warms. “I’m glad to hear it. You must have a chaperone, of course.” He looks around. “Where’s Marge?”
“I believe she went with everyone else to the parlor.”
“You cannot be alone with the man. I’ll send your mother along.”
I almost want to laugh. I can’t be alone with the man he expects me to spend my life with. It’s beyond ludicrous. “I will fetch Marge for the occasion.”
I take my leave, stopping briefly to direct Peter to the private salon on the opposite side of the entrance hall, and then go to the parlor. I find Marge assisting a servant putting out dishes of food on a long table on one side of the room. The palace’s food supply could last a month, even with the decimated garden and downed fruit trees. We have many preserved meats, fruits, and vegetables, along with jellies and sauces. There’s also a cheese larder and wine cellar.
“There you are,” Marge says. “I’ve worked out the sleeping arrangements. You must be hungry. Make sure to keep your strength up.”
I give her arm a squeeze. She can’t help mothering me. It’s been her job for so long. “I will after everyone else has had their fill. I’m not sure how much they’ve had to eat in the week since the storm hit. I was fattened up at the palace in Villroy.”
Her eyes narrow. “You’ve barely eaten since we heard news of the hurricane. You’ve lost weight.”
“No, I haven’t. Someone made me eat three times a day by feeding me himself.” My love.
She bites back a smile. “I do like the way he cares for you.”
“Me too. Thank you for your help today. Don’t linger long after dinner. You need your rest for tomorrow.”
“Rest!” she scoffs. “Too much to do for rest.” She turns to the group. “Children! Line up so I may fill your plates.”
The children immediately line up in a curvy line, a couple in the back elbowing each other for place in line.
“Those who cooperate will get first priority,” she announces, and the children immediately settle down.
I smile and quietly leave, secure that everything is under control. Now for Peter. I will face him alone. I don’t fear him anymore. In fact, under the circumstances, he will be even more eager to show himself in the best light to gain the alliance. We have prime real estate now with the only resorts. Of course, there’s still the issue of the debt owed him. He could take one of our resorts for the defaulted loan, though I suspect in these new circumstances he’d rather join the monarchy than make an enemy of it. Money will soon pour in to rebuild, and it will funnel through the royal treasury.
When I arrive in the private salon, Peter is sitting in a leather club chair, sipping his brandy. I knock on the open door and then let myself in, shutting the door behind me.
His brow arches. “No chaperone, Your Highness?” The “Your Highness” would’ve had more impact if he’d stood to greet me or bowed his head. Instead he remains ensconced in his chair, lounging as though he’s at home, with his legs stretched out in front of him. He’s cocky, assured he has the upper hand with me. I’ve let him believe that to protect my family. No more.
“She’s busy attending to our guests.” I take a seat in the chair adjacent to him. “We have much to discuss.”
A ghost of a smile crosses his lips. “You’re quite beautiful. I hadn’t realized how beautiful you were, covered up with the veil.”
“Thank you,” I say brusquely.
He straightens and sets his glass down on the table next to him. “As I’ve told your parents—”
“I will not marry you. I’ve given myself to another.”
His eyes narrow. “How do you mean?”
“I mean I’ve given myself, heart and soul, to another man. I will marry him or no one.”
He smirks. “The king and queen may take a different view. I have much to offer, especially after this catastrophic disaster. Together we can rebuild.”
“That will never happen. But the debt owed to you will be paid in full with interest.”
He leans forward eagerly. “When?”
“Soon, I hope.” Oscar has pledged to pay that debt once the sale of his vineyard clears, and I will repay Oscar by not taking any profits from the casino until my debt to him is cleared. I’ll add more to my repayment in whatever way I can. “Within a matter of weeks.”
He tilts his head, considering. “You think your parents will just do what you command? They favor our alliance. They know what I bring as a businessman to Beaumont.”
“My parents love me. Never underestimate the power of love.”
“Sentiment,” he says dismissively.
“Only for those who’ve never experienced it.” I pause, thinking of Oscar before admitting, “I used to feel the same way.” I longed for love but didn’t fully understand its power. Oscar has my heart and no one else could ever take his place.
He presses his fingers to his lips in apparent thought. “I can’t afford to stand by for long, nor do I want to walk away.”
I wait, sensing he’s about to negotiate.
“I’ll give you two weeks,” he says. “You come through with the money with interest, and I’ll walk away from the marriage.”
I blink, surprised it was that easy. “Deal.”
He offers his hand, and I give him a firm handshake. Then he leans back in his seat and reaches for his brandy, relaxing again. Only I’m not done. I need to be sure he’s not a threat to my family.
“Why are you not pressing your case to marry?” I ask.
He stares at me for a long moment. “In the current conditions, the only paths that make sense for me are getting what I’m owed in cash or in power as king. Beaumont will take a long time to recover—an arduous task for the monarchy—and I need the cash more. Between that and the insurance money, I’m going to cut my losses and retire to the Caymans.” The Cayman islands are a tax haven, where money earned outside the islands isn’t taxed. He’s basically taking the money and running. Now I’m glad he’s motivated by greed.
I stand, elated with the outcome. I couldn’t have asked for a better meeting. He could’ve been resentful of his misfortune; instead he took it as a retirement windfall. “Enjoy your retirement. I’m going to get something to eat. Would you like to join me in the parlor?” I may not like the man, but he’s still an islander, and it’s my duty to provide under the current disaster conditions.
He stands. “Actually, I’m going to go.” He jabs a thick finger at me. “Two weeks for full repayment.”
I nod once. I’m not sure if I’ll have the funds on time, but I’ll renegotiate for longer terms if I have to. Now that I know his goal is to take the insurance money and run, I believe he’ll stick to his current plan—money over me.
I walk briskly to the parlor, thinking of Oscar. Soon, my love. All I have to do is get my parents to understand the change in husband and convince Oscar to move to Beaumont permanently. This disastrous period has shown me that my parents will bend when absolutely necessary and that they trust me. At least a little.
And there’s no way I can leave my kingdom. Beaumont needs my leadership now and for the foreseeable future. Rebuilding is a gargantuan task that will require great energy and stamina, along with strategic planning. It must be me.
Chapter Fifteen
Oscar
I pace the palace hallway, more agitated than I’ve ever been in my life. I’m a Rourke. Rourke men don’t stand idly by. Viking warrior blood runs through my veins, and this is a battle I must win. I can’t stand knowing Polly is back in a kingdom that restricts her, can’t stand not knowing if she
’s okay, and I especially can’t stand the possibility of her being pressured into a marriage with Peter. I tried to let her go, tried to be that enlightened man of faith, but that is not me. I’m a man of action.
Still, I must wait. Our jet was delayed by weather in the Caribbean before it could travel back to the private airport in Nantes, France. The moment I heard the jet landed this morning, I put in the order to refuel and change pilots for a trip back to Beaumont. It will take time I don’t have for maintenance checks on the jet. Commercial flights are banned to Beaumont at the moment, or I would’ve left even sooner.
Polly needs me. By the time I get to her, she’ll have been there for two days. Worst-case scenarios run on repeat in my head. She’s putting herself at risk trying to help in the recovery, facing an avalanche of hazards—angry mobs, downed power lines, landslides. And the one that makes me go cold all over—her parents have rushed her wedding so she can take over leadership. I know it was Peter’s resorts that took the brunt of the damage from the storm. He’ll want the alliance more than ever to funnel hurricane relief to his own properties. And her parents value what he brings to the kingdom.
I halt as suddenly it becomes clear what I need to do.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. He’s going to be so pissed. Is there any other way? I rack my brain for alternatives. No.
Is Polly worth it? Absolutely.
~ ~ ~
Polly
I worked from sunup to sundown yesterday, traveling to assess the damage on the island and coordinating relief efforts. Things are slowly improving, and we’re at seventy percent power restoration. Today I’ve arranged to meet with my parents for afternoon tea. It’s time I tell them how it’s going to be with Oscar.
I get pulled away by several phone calls and make it to the parlor a little later than I’d like. I’d hoped for some time to rehearse my speech. When I get there, my parents are already seated in their highback chairs that remind me of thrones. I don’t need a throne-like chair to feel like a queen. It is who I am. I was born for this role and, just like Marge said, all of my impossible traits are now my greatest assets. I no longer have to fight my nature because who I am is exactly what Beaumont needs. For the first time in my life I’m truly comfortable in my own skin.
Royal Player (The Rourkes, Book 5) Page 16