To his utter shock, Christian nodded. “You’re absolutely right. It’s a gift received from our subjects—and one that even the tenants on your estate give to you. The catch is that nobility have to work twice as hard to make sure the gift of that respect is earned.”
Theo had never looked at it that way. Hearing it from the heir to the throne made a huge difference. It altered his perception. It rocked the very foundation of what he believed like a seismic shift.
He seemed to be doing that a lot around members of the House of Villani.
“Right now, I’d like the gift of that whiskey.” Theo wanted his brain a little muddled. Because accepting this different outlook would change…everything.
Especially if he no longer had as many reasons to hold a grudge against the princess…
Chapter Fifteen
Genny’s grandmother had never eaten off a paper plate—until served on a self-composting plate made of corn and paper fiber at an environmental gala last year. She’d never known the comfy fit of yoga pants. Had insisted—while in the hospital for an elbow surgery—on wearing stockings beneath her backless gown so that she’d still be “pulled together” when being pushed in her wheelchair.
The Grand Duchess Agathe did not ever lower her own personal bar of how a royal should comport themselves. She did, however, always take into account the occasion and the invited guests.
Which explained why, when having the very budget-conscious Royal Auditor to tea, Genny should be grateful that her grandmother only had one footman on duty inside the salon. And that afternoon tea was being held in the Gold Salon, rather than the far more formal Peacock Receiving Room.
The salon was her gran’s version of cozy: only one enormous gold and crystal chandelier. Only four gold-embroidered brocade divans along the walls, only two marble tables atop gilt pedestals. The over-the-top rococo embellishments of the, yes, gold trompe l’oeil frescoes that marched up the walls between oversize portraits of former rulers to meld into elaborate sunburst and fleur des lis pattern on the ceiling—sure, that screamed intimate and unfussy.
It had been too much to hope—although Genny had hoped, and even crossed her fingers and blown a dandelion wish—that the Grand Duchess would host them in her private chambers. Her own parlor boasted zero chandeliers and probably the only non-plasma television left in the kingdom. All because Agathe saw no point in wasting the money on technological upgrades when her set from fifteen years ago still worked.
That was the frugal mindset Genny wanted to show Theo today.
At least, that’s what she’d alluded to when inviting him to tea. No need to put him on edge with revealing the second item on the agenda.
They weren’t off to much of a start, though. His dark eyebrows had shot to his scalp when he entered the salon. With the footman watching, he’d executed an appropriate bow to Genny, but immediately his gaze swept the room, taking in the antique furnishings.
“How often is the gold leaf on the edges of all the chairs redone?” he’d asked, in lieu of an actual greeting.
“I don’t know. But we pay local craftsmen to do it, so the money is poured back into the kingdom. And it’s history, Theo. You and I are the only things in this room under three hundred years old.”
“So you’re telling me to amortize the contents over three hundred years?”
Genny, ah, respected his tenacity. Theo stayed “on brand” more than a pop star with a new album. But she’d gotten him this audience. He had to bend a little for it to not end in thirty seconds.
“I’m telling, no, asking you to not be such a pain in the ass with my grandmother.”
“Why? Would it be too much for her delicate constitution to handle blunt questions about money?”
After bursting into laughter, Genevieve realized Theo was squinting at her in confusion. “Oh, that’s right—living abroad, you’re not fully dialed in on the royal family and what we’re known for. My grandmother? Will eat you alive. One wrong word and she’ll verbally skin you, then leave you on the side of the road to be gnawed on by flies and vultures alike. She’s…”
“Difficult? Ornery? Intractable?”
Absolutely. All of the above. “Exacting. In everything.” Genny’s fingers itched to smooth an errant hair from his brow. But one did not touch the Royal Auditor. One did not indulge in casual touching with any outsider.
And it was a good thing she’d resisted, because her grandmother and aunt were announced in the next moment. There were the requisite introductions and bowing and fuss over tea and sandwiches, and happily, Theo responded to the swift kick she gave his ankle when his tongs were headed to add milk to a cup which already contained a lemon slice.
Now she just had to keep two strong-willed, stubborn people from saying anything incendiary for the next hour.
Aunt Mathilde must’ve seen the near-panic in Genny’s eyes, because she leaned forward with a gracious smile. “Lord Theo, I understand you’re making your home in the United States. We’re relieved you agreed to join us for tea when you must be an avowed coffee drinker.”
Theo volleyed back an equally warm smile that took her breath away. He was so ruggedly handsome, like someone who’d lead an expedition to find Troy or Atlantis a century ago. “I would never turn down an invitation to wile away the afternoon in the company of such beautiful, witty, important women.”
“Goodness, boy.” Agathe froze with her cup halfway between the saucer and her mouth. Which was akin to stopping in the middle of the freeway. Unheard of and dangerous. “Why do you feel it necessary to heap on such a ridiculous amount of praise? We’re not cupcakes to be frosted. It shows a lack of imagination for you to fall back on common flattery so quickly.”
Well, they’d last almost four whole minutes before things took a turn. Genny couldn’t really complain.
Theo didn’t look the least bit concerned at the attack. Or insulted. Or even annoyed. He crossed his legs and sipped his tea before responding.
“Common flattery? Why not tell me, Grand Duchess, which one of my claims is untrue? Do you consider yourself ugly, dull, or inconsequential?”
Oh. My. God.
Genevieve didn’t know if she needed popcorn, wine, or a flak jacket for what would happen next. Aunt Mathilde was literally holding her breath. Nobody contradicted her grandmother. Or at least, those that did never lived to tell the tale.
Everything about the Grand Duchess went still. The perfectly coiffed helmet of white hair, the ends of the Chanel scarf that rested on the front of her black silk blouse. Even the triple strand pearl bracelet stopped sliding down her wrist.
Then she leaned forward, set down her tea, and put a second cream puff on her plate. Unheard of indulgence in front of a near-stranger. “It seems I was hasty in my judgement. That was, indeed, an imaginative riposte.” She quirked an eyebrow at him. “Don’t think you’ll get away with such impertinence a second time, though.”
Theo asked in an utterly calm tone, “What if we both sheath our swords for the rest of this tea and just get to know each other?”
There was another pause, another head-to-toe assessment by her grandmother. “He’s both fearless and polite,” the Grand Duchess said to Mathilde. “I find it a refreshing combination. In small doses.”
Genny couldn’t wait to tell Christian that Theo had gotten away with putting their gran in her place.
She also couldn’t wait to reward her man with kisses for his bravery.
The maid came in to retrieve the tea strainers. Just the strainers. Genny deliberately held back from conversing, hoping Theo would notice the interruption.
He looked at the maid and at the tray she removed with only the four tea strainers on it in a bowl. “I’m sorry, would somebody clue me in on what she’s doing?”
Again, Genny held back, waiting for one of her relatives to lead the charge.
Sure enough,
the Grand Duchess always enjoyed sharing her tea hack. “We reuse all the tea leaves in Alcarsa Palace. Waste not, want not, no matter your level of wealth. If removed at the proper time, there’s no reason you can’t get a perfectly good second pot’s worth.”
Theo tried to school his features, but a little surprise bled out of his widened brown eyes.
“When I was little, Christian and I made fun of it.” Genny winced dramatically. “We should’ve known better.”
Dolloping guava jam on her scone, the Grand Duchess intoned, “Children make fun of things they don’t understand.”
“Mmm, yes.” Mathilde nodded so emphatically that her amethyst and citrine hair comb slid crookedly down over her ear. “That’s why little boys punch little girls they like.”
Genny adored her aunt. She always brought some fluttery humor to every conversation. Something very often needed when in the company of the stern and proper Grand Duchess.
Her grandmother beamed at her. Approbation was rare and hard-earned from the older woman. “Once I taught Christian and Genevieve why we used things more than once, it lit a fire in them. I was quite proud of the way they took it on as a personal project.”
Genny smiled back. “Those reused tea leaves kicked off our interest in conservation.” She still remembered their first big task: convincing the kitchen staff to compost their scraps.
Nobody had wanted to bother or deal with the extra work, marginal as it was. But they did have the weight of the crown behind their request. And got the gardeners to make a push, too. It became a symbiotic relationship—the gardeners used the kitchen compost to fertilize a new set of vegetable and herb gardens, which the chefs then utilized. Genny and Christian counted it as a huge win.
Theo, however, seemed stuck in surprise mode. His gaze did a perfect three-point turn between the women. “You don’t expect to trim the royal budget one cup of oolong at a time?”
“Of course not,” Gran snapped. “Not every cost can be counted on a balance sheet, young man. There are larger issues at play here.”
If Genny had scripted this conversation for her gran, it couldn’t be going better. “Remember when I explained why I pay more for high quality stockings that last longer?”
“You mean when that woman clocked me with her handbag?” Theo rubbed at his shoulder, as if still harboring a tender spot. The big baby. “Yes, I remember everything about that unwarranted assault.”
“This tea is in the same vein. It symbolizes all the ways this family works to recycle. To save.”
“I hear everything in America is disposable.” Mathilde tsked three times.
“Well, they tend to keep the turnover on things like buildings and bridges pretty low,” Theo said with his tongue firmly in cheek.
The Grand Duchess placed a hand, weighted down with her diamond and tanzanite wedding set and a smoke gray Tahitian pearl as big as a kumquat, right on her sternum. “I taught the prince and princess that nature is finite. Water, animals, plants—there isn’t a vending machine that magically restocks these things, you know.”
Mathilde gestured at the French doors, through which the snow-covered peak of Mt. Tiburz could be seen. “The natural beauty of Moncriano is what keeps our economy so strong. Beaches, lakes, mountains—they draw adventure seekers. And the pristine landscapes draw more…contemplative tourists.”
While the help was appreciated, Genny couldn’t resist a wry grin at her aunt’s word-for-word recitation of a current commercial against the European Union vote. She’d have to tell her later to be careful about quoting it again, since the royal family was supposed to be entirely neutral on the decision.
To wrap it up, Genny said, “You can’t take national resources for granted. Some things, once lost—like trust, and your land—can never be made whole again.”
Theo’s eyes narrowed. He set down his plate with a clatter. “This is about my factory? You brought in hired muscle to make me to fall in line and drop the idea.”
Genny would swear that her grandmother preened a little at Theo’s description of her. And goodness, but it had taken him a while to see through to the purpose of this meeting. Theo must be off his game. “Maybe.”
Okay, definitely. Because knowing when to call for reinforcements made all the difference in a battle.
Mathilde refilled her cup from her individual Sevres china pot. “When Genny told us what you’d like to build on the Holst land…well, first of all, she had to explain what a cardboard coaster is.” A self-deprecating laugh frothed out of her. “Agathe and I don’t hang out in bars like you youngsters.”
Hang out? Genny would bet her three favorite tiaras that the Grand Duchess had never set foot in a bar in her entire life. That would mean accidentally rubbing shoulders with the public.
Her gran was of a different generation. She loved her adopted country, believed firmly that the House of Villani was to be a shining beacon of perfection to their subjects—and was an unmitigated snob. Gran never shied from helping the less fortunate, from serving food in shelters to teaching reading in rehab facilities.
But when it came to socializing? Everyone in her circle had to be titled or wealthy—preferably both.
The Grand Duchess gestured at Theo with an upturned palm. “It’s good that you want to help your father, your people. Good that you are thinking outside the box, as it were. But just because you have an idea does not mean that it is the right one. Or the final one.”
Theo did not appear to be on board with their less-than-subtle hints. “I’m not being obstinate. I’m not too lazy to come up with another. I’ve done the research, run the numbers. Ladies, I’m being practical. Some might say visionary.”
“Certainly. We’d just like you to contemplate a different vision,” Genny said. Urged. Pushed.
“Then you’ll have to wave your scepter to come up with one, Princess. So far, nothing else comes close to being as low-cost and high return. But if you do find something better? I’ll not only thank you personally, I’ll alert the media.”
Mathilde startled, jerking upright in her chair. “Oh, don’t do that. Whatever you do, don’t mention Genny to the media.”
And right there, it went off the rails.
Rats.
Especially since Theo happened to be ultra-observant. While she didn’t think it possible to divert him from glomming onto that comment and asking questions, Genny hastened to assure her aunt, “It was a figure of speech. Lord Theo was kidding. Weren’t you?”
“Uh, yes?”
Mathilde fanned a napkin in front of her face. “Good. One can’t be too careful. I’m just looking out for the dear girl. Genny is touchy about people with personal information about her sharing it, unbidden.”
Theo shifted in his chair to face Genevieve. “Who screwed you over?”
She both adored that he cared—and despaired that it had to be apparent to her family members that he cared. Perhaps, if she was lucky, they’d see his response as loyalty to the crown rather than personal interest.
And before she could formulate an answer that wouldn’t drag this out longer, her grandmother shockingly responded.
“It was various unscrupulous people who are no longer admitted to the palace. If you take away nothing else from this meeting, Lord Theo, know that loyalty and trust are of paramount import to the House of Villani. I expect there to be no mention in the press tomorrow of my preference for making my Oolong last.”
“Of course not,” Theo assured without missing a beat. “We’re having a private conversation. Nobody else should or even deserves to know what was discussed.”
He might not be a fan of the royal family, but above all else, Theo had principles. Scruples. A personal code that matched Genevieve’s own in its honor and intensity.
What a relief.
The Grand Duchess, however, was not quite so easily assuaged. She pinned him wit
h an ice-cold stare as easily as the pearl pins that mounted the butterfly collection in the library. “I hear you’ve been granted access to Prince Christian, as well. It might be tempting for you to tell your American friends about your outing with him. I imagine they would be easily awed by the merest morsels of royal scoop.”
“Be that as it may, it would be unacceptable to me on both a personal and professional level.” Theo turned back to Genny. This time he actually leaned over the arm of the chair. “Who hurt you?”
Perhaps he’d forgotten their careful plan not to let anyone know that they were intimate? Because an average number cruncher wouldn’t be so focused on ferreting out the truth. Genny cast about desperately for any other topic in the world.
But she’d forgotten that her aunt turned into a protective bulldog on this issue. Mathilde steepled her hands in front of her mouth, sucked in a long breath, and then dropped them to share all.
“It was this horrible girl who blared to the world when dear Genny became a woman.”
Omigosh. What a disaster. She couldn’t wait to tell Ambra how far off track this tea had gone.
An abrupt clatter of china signaled Theo’s shock as he bobbled his cup against the saucer. “She told people when you lost your virginity?”
Color rose in Gran’s cheeks to a virulent pink. “Language, Lord Theo! We do not speak of such things in mixed company.”
In a rush to cut him off, Genny said in a low voice, “Not sex. When I got my period. End of story.”
“Unfortunately, it wasn’t the end. People kept taking advantage of you, Genevieve. It was most upsetting. Shall I tell the rest so that you don’t have to, dear?”
Or they could, you know, change the subject. But her aunt still rose to anger out of her love for Genny, so she couldn’t shut her down. Out of all the unsettling incidents—and there were countless—maybe if she shared another “unseemly” one, her gran would cut it off.
Ruling the Princess Page 19