Page 18 of Royal Surrogate 1

To my surprise, he laughs. “Maybe it should be. God knows the press loves a good royal scandal. But I suppose they’re a little lenient, given the size of Montovia—it probably isn’t possible for all of us to marry Montovians unless we’re willing to consider our second cousins as eligible partners. The press and public find plenty of other things to judge, though.”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” I admit. “I dug up some old tabloids to see what they said about your brothers’ and cousins’ partners, just to give myself an idea of what I might be in for.” I always feel better about something when I’ve extensively researched it. “Given the fast timeline of our romance, I’m guessing they’re going to accuse me of being a gold digger and going after you for your money. Which isn’t far from the truth, of course, and honestly, I don’t care what they say, but I’m worried they’re going to bring my dad into this.”

“A valid concern,” Caspar agrees. “And something we might be able to remedy. Paparazzi aren’t allowed in Montovia—something my cousins take very seriously—which will work to both our advantage and our disadvantage. And my money and status does allow me some influence. But in my experience, if the press is focusing on something you don’t like, the best and easiest course of action is to create something even more enticing for their consumption—that way you’re usually in control of the narrative.”

“You’ve thought about this a lot.”

“I’ve been dealing with the press my entire life,” he says. “Not to the same extent as my cousins, of course, but I’ve learned a trick or two.” He reaches over, taking my hand and squeezing it. “And I promise, if they start invading your father’s privacy, I’ll do whatever I can to stop it. But we must make sure we’re giving them plenty of content on our side of the pond.”

There’s genuine kindness in his voice, which surprises me. Caspar has no contractual obligation to promise this, and maybe he’s just telling me what he thinks I want to hear…but I don’t think so.

Maybe I will actually enjoy this, I think. I’m not naive enough to pretend I’m not making a major life decision here, but Caspar is…kind. And interesting to talk to. And, lest we forget, definitely attractive. Maybe this whole adventure could be fun.

“Thank you,” I tell him.

He smiles, squeezing my fingers again, and I feel another one of those fluttery little twinges in my chest.

Be careful, I warn myself. It’s one thing to enjoy myself, and quite another to allow myself any sort of feelings for this man. That is out of the question, for my own sanity.

I can't let old wounds resurface. My heart has been broken before. This is business, I remind myself—I can't lose focus, no matter the magnetic pull between us.

Still smiling, I pull my hand out of his, looking once more at the giant rock on my finger.

You’ve got this, I tell myself. Just keep your head, and you’ll be fine.

Next stop Montovia.

CHAPTER 13

Caspar

I hold my breath as the car nears the Wintervale estate. It may not be as grand as the palace in the capital, but part of me wants Renae to be impressed all the same.

She allows me to hold her hand—it’s something, though I find every time we touch, I want more. She’s so different from the women I typically date, but the emotional wall she’s built around herself is odd, to say the least.

“Am I supposed to bow when I meet your family?”

Her question breaks me from the fog I find myself in. I turn to her, blinking a few times. “No, that won’t be necessary. You might allow my father a slight curtsy, but unless he’s in his formal uniform…” I force a smile. “No, none of that will be necessary. My family will be delighted to meet you. They’ll welcome you with open arms as my betrothed.”

She narrows her gaze slightly. “You seem…nervous.”

“Me? Not at all.” My tittering laugh likely gives me away.

She raises a brow, turning to look out the window. “Montovia really is lovely. Much prettier than the books.”

“Things usually are better in person than in books, aren’t they?” I can’t say I’m much of a reader, but I can’t imagine it’s not true.

Renae gives me a slight shrug, still looking out the window. “I guess it depends on the book. And your imagination.”

“I think you’ll find this to be much better than you’ve imagined.” Even as I say the words, I realize I have no idea what she’s imagining. I’ve asked her to come to a strange land, marry me for show, and carry my baby for a small sum of money. I know she’s in need, but the truth hits me in my chest in a way I wasn’t expecting.

“There’s nothing to worry yourself over,” I say, not sure if I’m speaking more to myself or to the woman next to me. “My family is quite accepting. Besides, we’ll spend our days together. We’ll only see them when it’s expected.”

She turns back to me, cocking her head. “What do you mean, ‘together?’”

“You know. Together.” I squeeze her hand. “As married couples do.”

“Unlikely,” she says with a slight smile. What is it about her, anyway? She doesn’t seem disgusted by me—thankfully—but she also seems…annoyed? Amused? Perhaps a combination of both?

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