Cat Schield - Royal Babies

‘Bababababa!’ Amil vouchsafed, and a well of emotion surged anew.

‘Do you want to hold him?’

‘No!’ Think. ‘I don’t want to spook him—especially just before the photo call.’

It wasn’t a bad cover-up, but possibly not good enough to allay the doubts that dawned in her eyes.

‘You won’t. He’s fairly sociable. Though obviously he doesn’t really meet that many strange me—’ She broke off. ‘I’m sorry. Of all the stupid things to say that took the cake, the biscuit and the whole damn patisserie.’

‘It’s OK. I am a stranger to Amil—that’s why I don’t want to spook him.’

His gaze returned to the baby, who was watching him, his eyes wide open, one chubby hand clutching a tendril of Sunita’s hair.

‘We need to go.’

‘I know. But first I have a couple of questions about the press conference and the Kaitlin question.’

Frederick frowned. ‘What question would that be?’

‘A couple of reporters said, and I quote, that you are “broken-hearted” and that perhaps I can mend the chasm. Others have suggested you would welcome a dalliance with an old flame as a gesture, to show Lady Kaitlin you are over her.’

‘I still don’t understand what your question is.’

‘Two questions. Are you heartbroken? Are you over her?’

‘No and yes. I need to get married for Lycander. My heart is not involved. Kaitlin understood that—our relationship was an alliance. When that alliance became impossible we ended our relationship. Since then she has met someone else and I wish her well.’

Sunita’s expression held a kind of shocked curiosity. ‘That’s it? You were with her for months. You must have felt something for her.’

Momentary doubt touched him and then he shrugged. ‘Of course I did. I thought that she would be an excellent asset to Lycander.’

Kaitlin’s diplomatic connections had been exemplary, as had her aristocratic background. She’d had a complete understanding of the role of consort and had been as uninterested in love as he was.

‘I was disappointed when it didn’t work out.’

‘Yes. I see that it must have been tough for you to have the deal break down.’ Sarcasm rang out from the spurious sympathy.

‘It was—but only because it had an adverse impact on my position as ruler.’

And that was all that mattered. His goal was to rule Lycander as his brother would have wished, to achieve what Axel would have achieved. Whatever it took.

‘So all you need to know about Kaitlin is that she is in the past. My heart is intact.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘And now we really need to go.’

A pause and then she nodded. ‘OK. This is our chance to change the mixed reaction into a positive one. An opportunity to turn the tide in our favour.’

‘You sound confident that you can do that.’

‘Yup. I’m not a fan of bad publicity. Watch and learn.’

One photo call later and Frederick was looking at Sunita in reluctant admiration. He had to hand it to her. By the end of the hour she had had even the most hostile reporter eating out of her hand. Somehow she had mixed a suggestion of regret over her actions with the implicit belief that it had been the only option at the time. In addition, she had managed to make it clear that whilst two years ago Frederick had been a shallow party prince, now he had morphed into a different and better man, a worthy ruler of Lycander.

No doubt Marcus had been applauding as he watched.

Hell, even he had almost believed it. Almost.

‘You did a great job. And I appreciate that you included me in your spin.’

‘It wasn’t spin. Everything I said about you was true—you have worked incredibly hard these past two years, you have instigated all the changes I outlined, and you do have Lycander’s future at heart.’

The words washed over him like cold, dirty water—if the people of Lycander knew where the blame for Axel’s death lay they would repudiate him without compunction, and they would be right to do so. But he didn’t want these thoughts today—not on his first outing with Amil.

He glanced down at Amil, secure now in his buggy, dressed in a jaunty striped top and dungarees, a sun hat perched on his head, a toy cat clasped firmly in one hand.

‘Amamamamam...ma.’ Chubby legs kicked and he wriggled in a clear instruction for them to move on.

Sunita smiled down at her son. ‘I think he wants to get going—he wants to see all the animal hedges. They seem to utterly fascinate him.’

As they wandered through the lush gardens that abounded with shades of green tranquillity seemed to be carried on the breeze that came from the Arabian Sea, and for a moment it was almost possible to pretend they were an ordinary family out for the day.

Sunita came to a halt near a topiary hedge, one of many clipped into the shape of animals. ‘For some reason this is his favourite—I can’t work out why.’

Frederick studied it. ‘I’m not sure I can even work out what it is. I spotted the giraffe and the elephant and the ox-drawn cart, but this one flummoxes me.’

Sunita gave a sudden gurgle of laughter. ‘I know what Amil thinks it is. Amil, sweetheart, tell Mu—Tell us what the animal does.’

The little boy beamed and made a ‘raaaah’ noise.

Frederick felt his heart turn over in his chest. Without thought he hunkered down next to Amil and clapped. ‘Clever boy. The tiger goes “rah”.’

‘Raaah!’ Amil agreed.

And here it came again—the paralysis, the fear that he would mess this up. He’d never managed any other relationship with even a sliver of success. Why would this be different?

Rising to his feet, he gestured around the garden. ‘This is a beautiful place.’

‘I used to come here as a child,’ Sunita said. ‘It’s one of my earliest memories. I loved the flower clock.’

She pressed her lips together, as if she regretted the words, and Frederick frowned. Her publicity blurb skated over her childhood, chose to focus instead on her life after she’d embarked on her career. Almost as if she had written her early years out of her life history...

‘Come on,’ she said hurriedly. ‘This morning isn’t about my childhood. It’s about Amil’s—let’s go to the Old Woman’s Shoe.’

Five minutes later Frederick stared at the shoe—actually an enormous replica of a boot. As landmarks went, it seemed somewhat bizarre—especially when the words of the nursery rhyme filtered back to him.

There was an old woman who lived in a shoe.

She had so many children she didn’t know what to do.

She gave them broth without any bread,

Then whipped them all soundly and sent them to bed.

‘Isn’t this a slightly odd thing to put in a children’s playground?’

‘Yes. But I loved it—I used to climb it and it made me feel lucky. It was a way to count my blessings. At least I didn’t live with a horrible old woman who starved me and beat me!’

At least. There had been a wealth of memory in those syllables, and for a daft moment he had the urge to put his arm around her and pull her into the comfort of a hug.

As if realising she had given away more than she had wanted, she hastened on. ‘Anyway, I looked up the rhyme recently and it turns out it probably has political rather than literal connotations. But enough talk. This is about you and Amil. Do you want to take Amil into the shoe? I’ll wait here with the buggy.’

The suggestion came out of nowhere, ambushed him, and once again his body froze into immobility even as his brain turned him into a gibbering wreck.

‘I think that may be a little bit much for him. He barely knows me.’ Think. ‘We haven’t even explained to him who I am.’

The accusation in his own voice surprised him—and he knew it masked a hurt he didn’t want her to see. Because it exposed a weakness he didn’t want her to know. ‘Never show weakness, my son.’ The one piece of paternal advice he agreed with. ‘Show weakness and you lose.’ Just as all his stepmothers had lost. Their weakness had been their love for their children—a weakness Alphonse had exploited.