Nina Bruhns - Capturing the Crown Bundle

He noticed that there was a plate with just the barest remnants of wedding cake on it and wondered if that had been her breakfast.

Lucia smiled at him. “Actually, you’re earlier than I anticipated.”

He didn’t see how that was possible “I said ten o’clock.”

The smile on Lucia’s lips told him she knew better, even if he didn’t. “You were married yesterday,” she reminded him. “I didn’t think you meant ten o’clock in actual real time. The cake was good, by the way. I wish I could steal your chef,” she added wistfully.

He looked over her shoulder at the computer monitor on the table. The binary code that covered the screen looked like some kind of decorative screen saver. “You give me something I can work with, I’ll have another wedding cake made for you.”

She inclined her head as if to say that sounded fair enough. “Well, as it happens, I’m still working on the prince’s monarch code.”

He’d thought as much. Russell groaned, running his hand through his hair. Damn it, why had Reginald enjoyed that part of it so much? Was it because it made him feel as if he were acting his age instead of behaving like the eternal juvenile he always seemed to be?

“However,” Lucia went on, “there is some good news, so to speak.”

“And that would be—?” he asked, gesturing for her to continue.

“In looking for the encryption code, I stumbled across a sealed file on his computer.” A small, triumphant smile crossed her lips. “It only took about half an hour to crack the password. When I opened the file, I saw that it contained a batch of personal e-mails.” Lucia leaned back in her chair to look at him. She needed to see his face in order to gauge whether or not he was hiding something. It wasn’t unheard of to have the client not altogether forthcoming when it came to an investigation. “Are you aware that Prince Reginald was being blackmailed?”

“Blackmailed?” Russell echoed, confused. That didn’t make any sense. “What could they possibly have to blackmail him with? The photographers followed him everywhere. Everything about his sordid life was a matter of record.”

“Apparently not everything, because the prince was making regular withdrawals from his private account. That usually means that regular payments were going somewhere. In addition, there’s mention of several meetings, all coinciding with withdrawals. The sender also threatens to ‘expose’ the prince several times in case he was thinking of going to the authorities.”

Russell began to wonder if there was anyone on Reginald’s side. The list of people who had something against the man kept growing. He almost felt sorry for the late prince. “Do you have any idea who was blackmailing him?”

Lucia shook her head. “That I haven’t found out yet. I haven’t been able to trace the source of the e-mails—yet,” she emphasized the word. “But I’ve only been at this for less than a day,” she reminded him with the confidence of one who had had eventually met every single technological challenge she’d encountered.

By the expression on her face, Russell surmised that Lazlo’s operative was not in the habit of making excuses or feeling that she needed to.

“Anything else?” he asked before leaving her to her work. He really didn’t expect her to answer in the affirmative.

“Yes.” He stopped in his tracks and looked at her. “Possibly there’s a little Reginald out there somewhere.”

Russell stiffened. “What?”

The depth of Reginald’s stupidity never ceased to amaze him. Or maybe it was just the prince’s incredible ego that had allowed him to think that he could leave traces of his indiscretion right there, in his computer. This after he had gone through all the trouble, at Reginald’s behest, of tracking the woman down to pay her off.

He did his best to appear surprised.

Strange how things turned out. Reginald’s vanity could very well prove to be his saving grace. Reginald’s unborn child was the natural heir to the throne. That could easily take him off the hook. With any luck, Weston could act as regent on behalf of the child until such time as the child was of an age to rule on his own. Anything was preferable to his having to be crowned, Russell thought.

And probably preferable to Reginald having taken the crown, he added as an afterthought. He had no doubts that, barring some miracle, Reginald would have made a terrible monarch.

Feigning surprise, he asked, “Who’s the child’s mother?”

“Strictly speaking, there is no child yet,” Lucia informed him. “But the woman is pregnant. From all indications, by several months.”

“And she claims that Reginald is the father.” It wasn’t exactly a question, but a statement that begged for a response.

“From what I saw in the e-mail, she’s certain. Her name’s Sydney Connor.” She hit several keys on the laptop, then turned it around so that Russell could see the screen. “I was able to trace her e-mails to a computer back in Naessa.”

“Naessa,” he echoed.

Things were beginning to fall into place. Relations between the two countries were less than amicable. If he were to draw up a list of potential suspects who would have wanted to cause chaos within Silvershire by eliminating Reginald, the rival kingdom would be near the top. There were factions within Naessa, dangerous factions, that had aligned themselves with terrorist groups which had struck at Silvershire before and undoubtedly would again.

Was this woman working in conjunction with one of the terrorist groups? he wondered. “Do you know anything about this Sydney Connor?”

“Not yet,” Lucia freely admitted. “But the day is still young. Give me a little time.” She grinned. “A little bit of sugar wouldn’t be out of line, either.” Her grin broadened. “I run on sugar and coffee, in case you’re interested.”

“I’ll have some coffee and pastries sent in immediately,” he promised. “Would you prefer doughnuts, coffee cake or French pastries?”

“Yes,” was her only response. Lucia turned her attention back to the laptop.

With a diet like that, he wondered how the woman managed to remain in the shape she was in. “I’ll have them bring you a selection,” he told her as he let himself out.

An heir. Reginald’s “mistake” might now very well prove to be his own salvation. An heir meant that he wouldn’t have to go through with the coronation.

He felt like a man who had just crawled out from beneath the crushing weight of a boulder. The relief was immeasurable.

Russell began to whistle while he walked.

Russell stopped whistling.

He had realized, as he headed back to his quarters, that if there were an heir to the throne, if this woman, Sydney Connor, really was pregnant with Reginald’s baby and if she could be found, then his coronation need not take place.

But, it suddenly occurred to him, if it didn’t, what then would become of his union with Amelia? Would it be terminated, annulled, rescinded, as if it had never happened?

It was obvious that the only reason their wedding had gone off on the preset schedule, without missing so much as a beat, was because King Roman was anxious to have the treaty between their two countries go forward.

In that light, things had not changed all that much since ancient times. Countries still needed to forge alliances in order to survive. The strong protected the weak, not of out any sense of altruism, but because of the stakes involved. Two countries together were stronger than either country was on its own.

If an heir suddenly surfaced, and the line was restored to King Weston’s house, then how would he, Russell, figure into all this? What would his role be? Would he even have a role, beyond that of political advisor? Since he would not be king, would Amelia’s father call for an annulment and have her—what, pledged to a child? he wondered cynically.