Barbara Hannay - A Royal Proposal

‘Yes. Here we are on the second floor. Your room is on the right.’

Charlie’s room was, in fact, an entire suite, with a huge bedroom, bathroom and sitting room. And although the castle seemed to be heated, there was even a fireplace, where flames burned a bright welcome, and off the bedroom a small study, complete with a desk, a telephone and an assortment of stationery ready for her use.

The whole area was carpeted in a pretty rose pink with cream and silver accessories, and there were at least three bowls of pink roses. Charlie’s suitcase had already been placed at the foot of the bed and it looked rather shabby and out of place.

‘This is rather old-fashioned compared with your flat in Sydney,’ Rafe said.

‘But it’s gorgeous,’ protested Charlie, who couldn’t believe he would even try to make a comparison. ‘Oh, and look at the view!’ She hurried over to the high, arched window set deep in the stone wall with a sill wide enough for sitting and dreaming.

Below, the lights of Montaigne glowed warm and bright in the snowy setting.

‘I can’t believe this.’ She was grinning as she turned back to Rafe. ‘It’s so incredibly picture perfect.’

‘There’s a remote control here beside the bed.’ Rafe picked it up and demonstrated. ‘It makes the glass opaque for when you want to sleep.’

‘How amazing.’ Charlie watched in awe as the glass grew dark and then, at another flick of the switch, became clear again. ‘It’s magic. Like being in a fairy tale. Aren’t you lucky to actually live here?’

His smile was careful. ‘Even fairy tales have their dark and dangerous moments.’

‘Well, yes, I guess.’ Charlie wasn’t sure if he was joking or serious. ‘I suppose there are always wicked witches and wolves and evil spells.’ And in Rafe’s case, a wicked Chancellor and evil miners who wanted to wreck his country. ‘But at least fairy tales give you a happy ending.’

‘Unless you’re the wolf,’ suggested Rafe.

Charlie frowned at him. ‘You’re very pessimistic all of a sudden.’

‘I am. You’re right. I apologise.’ But Rafe still looked sad as he stood there watching her.

Charlie wondered if he was thinking about his father who had died so recently. Or perhaps he was thinking about Olivia, wishing his real fiancée were here in his castle, preparing for their marriage. Instead he was left with an improvised substitute who would soon leave again.

Or were there other things worrying him? He’d mentioned the mining threat, but he probably had a great many other issues to deal with. Affairs of state.

She was pondering this when he smiled suddenly. ‘I must say I’m not surprised that you believe in happy endings, Charlie.’

She thought instantly of Isla. ‘It’s terribly important to think positively. Why not believe? It’s better than giving up.’

He dismissed this with a shrug. ‘But it’s a bit like asking me if I believe in fairies. Happy endings are all very well in theory, but I find that real life is mostly about compromise.’

Compromise?

Charlie stared at him in dismay. She’d never liked the idea of compromise. It seemed like such a cop-out. She never wanted to give up on important hopes and dreams and to settle for second best.

She wanted to protest, to set Rafe straight, but there was something very earnest in his expression that silenced her.

She thought about his current situation. He’d been forced to arrange a hasty, convenient marriage to save his country, instead of waiting till he found the woman he loved. That was certainly a huge compromise for both Rafe and for Olivia.

When Rafe looked ahead to the future, he could probably foresee many times when he would be required to set aside his own needs and desires and to put duty to his country first.

It was a chastening thought. Charlie supposed she’d been pretty foolish to come sailing in here, all starry-eyed, and immediately suggest that living in a castle was an automatic ticket to a fairy-tale life. She was about to apologise when there was a knock at the door.

A young man had arrived with their supper.

‘Thanks, Guillaume,’ Rafe said as the fellow set a tray on the low table in front of the fire. To Charlie, he said, ‘I thought we’d be more comfortable eating in here tonight.’ When Guillaume had left, he added, ‘You don’t mind if I join you?’

‘No, of course not.’ After all, it was what the servants would expect of an engaged couple.

They sat on sofas facing each other. The coffee smelled wonderful, as did the chicken soup, and the setting was incredibly cosy. Charlie looked at the flickering flames, the bowls of steaming soup and the crusty bread rolls.

The scene was almost homely, hardly like being in a royal castle at all, and for Charlie there was an extra sprinkle of enchantment, no doubt provided by the hunky man who, having shed his overcoat, looked relaxed again now in his jeans and dark green sweater.

Rafe’s comments about compromise were sobering though, and no doubt they were the check she needed. Royals might not be dogged by the money worries that had plagued her for most of her life, but their money came with serious responsibilities.

Was that why Olivia ran away?

* * *

When they finished their soup, Rafe called for a nightcap, which was promptly delivered, and as he and Charlie sipped the rich, smooth cognac he watched the play of firelight on Charlie’s curly hair, on her soft cheeks and lips. It was only with great difficulty that he managed to restrain himself from joining her on her sofa.

But man, he was tempted. There was a sweetness about Charlie that—

No, he wasn’t going to make comparisons with her sister. He couldn’t waste time or energy berating himself for the error of judgement that had landed him with Olivia Belaire. Regret served no useful purpose.

‘Tomorrow, when you’re ready, my secretary, Mathilde, will bring you a list of your engagements,’ he said, steering his thoughts strictly towards business. ‘Including your shopping and hair appointments.’

Charlie looked worried. ‘But I won’t have appointments for shopping, will I?’

‘Yes. The stores find it helpful to plan ahead. They can make sure that the right staff is available to give you the very best assistance.’

‘I see.’ Charlie still looked worried. ‘Will your secretary also give me a list of the sorts of clothes I need?’

‘No, Monique at Belle Robe will look after that. If you show Monique your list of engagements, she’ll be able to advise you on dresses, shoes, handbags or whatever.’

‘I—I see.’

Was it his imagination, or had Charlie grown pale?

Why? Surely all women loved shopping? Her sister had enthusiastically embraced the shopping expeditions he’d paid for. Unfortunately, Olivia had also taken all those clothes with her when she left. They would have fitted Charlie perfectly.

‘You’ll have to try to enjoy the experience,’ he said.

‘Yes, of course. I’ll try to behave like Olivia. I suppose she loved shopping.’

‘Yes, she had quite a talent for it.’

Charlie lifted a thumbnail to her mouth as if she wanted to chew it. Then she must have realised her mistake and quickly dropped her hand to her lap with her fist tightly curled. ‘So I need to be enthusiastic,’ she said. ‘I can do that.’

‘And don’t worry about the expense.’

To his dismay, Charlie looked more worried than ever. ‘What’s the matter, Charlie?’

She flashed him a quick, rather brave little smile. ‘No problem, really. It’s just that I’m so used to living on a budget and it’s hard to throw off the habits of a lifetime.’

Rafe couldn’t remember ever dating a girl who was cautious with money. This was a novel experience. ‘These clothes won’t have price tags,’ he reassured her. ‘So you needn’t know the cost. And remember they’re just costumes. They’re your uniform, if you like, an important part of the job.’