Page 95 of Royally Rivalled

“Since they’re growing on me.”

“See, youcanbe a sap,” Astrid giggled.

“Undoubtedly.”

fifty-two

ASTRID

Parker tookmy hand in his, lacing our fingers. I resisted the urge to run—not from him but fromthis. The butler informed us of Celeste’s return. She’d stay only for dinner and the concert and return to her country house. Those were the terms she’d agreed to with Alexandra so she could meet Linnea.

“You’re going to be fine,” Parker whispered. “Because you can do everything, Astrid. You’re the brave one.”

He had no idea what I was up against. Celeste was my jailer. She’d weighed Alexandra and me weekly, treating us like commodities. She intended to sell us to the highest bidders. Ultimately, she hoped to break us down and control us as she had our father. She controlled us until we finally realised we held the power. Alexandra came into her own with Rick’s help and finally took charge. Only then were we free. Having Celeste back frightened me. I worried it would start all over.

I looked at Alexandra, her face drawn tightly. She was nervous, too. Rick offered to take Linnea, who was now in her lap, obsessed with chewing on her fat little fingers. Alexandra’s body language tightened, and she shook her head. She held Linny closer now. No one was taking that babyfrom Alexandra.

This was a pre-dinner drinks situation. So, drink we did. Even Odette was permitted a glass of wine. Queen Margaux would join us for dinner before all of us—minus Parker and baby Linnea—went to the concert.

There was a knock.

“Come!” Alexandra called, trying to sound confident.

I shot her a look of support. Nodding back, she stood. The rest of us followed. Soon, Celeste entered. She looked different—frailer than she’d left us last year. She used a walking stick, but it wasn’t the aid that made her look weak. She was slighter than ever, and her eyes had suchdeepdark circles that her eyeballs just seemed to hang there.

“Grand-Mama,” Odette said. “Welcome.”

Leave it to Odette, the sweetest child, to welcome our former captor warmly. She, too, was frightened but feigning bravery for Ingrid—the girl holding onto my free arm for dear life.

In French, she complained, “Yes, well. The weather here is awful.”

There’s Celeste’s charming personality!

“And this is the baby? Should she be so fat?” Celeste asked. “And solitary?”

Alexandra began, but Rick jumped in, speaking oh-so-poorly in our mother tongue for Alexandra’s benefit and in defence of his beautiful infant.

“Celeste, the baby is healthy and only a few months old. Give poor Alexandra a break. This is Linnea, and she’s perfect.”

Elle est tres parfait.

Yes, it was true. They weren’t only the words of a proud father but the honest-to-God truth.

“Well, she appears… healthy.”

That was the only nice thing the old bag could say about the beaming little blonde ball of joy in Alexandra’s arms. I didn’t know what to expect. I’d hoped Celeste was capable of love for something so precious and delicate. After all, she had two dozen cats and loved them dearly. But humans? They never resonated with her. Alexandra looked upset—expecting there to be cooing over the beautiful babe.

We returned to the couch as Celeste sat on a chair, Odette assisting.Bless the girl. She tried hard to be kind to even those undeserving of her empathy.

Celeste pointed her cane at Parker. “Who is this?”

“Celeste, this is Parker Westfall, the Duke of Westnedge,” Alexandra explained. “From England.”

“And he’s here why?” Celeste said. “He’s a little skinny, yes? The British are unfortunate people—their men anyway. You could have ended up with one of the British princes, Alexandra. At least they’d have proper titles and clout.”

Alexandra looked appalled, knowing that Parker spoke beautiful French. Most aristocrats spoke it enough to understand her points. But she was banking, and he would not respond.

I began to defend him, “I?—”

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