Page 30 of Some Like It Scandalous
Whether it was the solemnity of his statement or the hard stare he gave his brother, it seemed to penetrate. “She dumped you. She walked away and she dumped you.”
“She was twenty-two—we both were and foolish. We thought we knew everything, much as you do now. Do not presume to judge her or myself. I will not tolerate it.” The mutiny in his brother’s expression threatened to take them into a full-blown argument—one Armand did not want to have. Not when he had so many questions of his own. He was allowed to question her, to wonder why she walked out, why she never tried to reach out to him—why the hell she got engaged to not one man, but two.Yes, he could question it. George could not. His younger brother retreated, however. Armand nodded slowly. “Thank you. Let me know about the schools you’re interested in.”
“Armand—”
“George, I’m tired. It has been a difficult set of days and I have many issues which need to be seen to.” He spared his brother a look.
“I’m sorry.” The apology caught him off guard. His brother shoved his hands into his pockets and glanced down. It was hard to forget how many years did separate them, and that George was barely older than he’d been when their father passed away. “I don’t mean to be such an ass. I worry about you.”
His temper relented. “I appreciate your concern—I do—but focus on your education. You’re old enough to be on your own path now. No more…searching—now it’s time to find.”
“I hate homework.”
“Life’s little burdens.” Armand grinned and left him to it. Outside he punched in Peterson’s number and hit the elevator button. “George will give you a name and an account where we need to send a quarter of a million dollars. I want to know everything about the recipient.”
“Absolutely. Should I check with his detail?” The men would answer the questions from the security chief, but the point of personal security was also discretion. He wouldn’t put the men on the spot yet.
Not unless it became necessary.
“No. For now just wait for the information—and George isn’t to leave the tower. He has—” he grinned, “—homework to do.”
“Yes, sir. Your Highness, you should also be aware that Prince Sebastian requested the plane to fly him and his detail to Los Angeles.”
Armand swallowed an oath unspoken. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he stepped into the elevator. “When is he due to arrive?”
“Two days. I have it from Eduard that his physician gave him clearance to fly.” Well, that was something.
“Thank you, Peterson.”
“Of course, Your Highness.”
The doors closed and Armand hit the button for the penthouse. He had homework of his own…and a story to tell.
ANNA
Had it really been just a little over forty-eight hours before that she sat in the waiting room fuming over the upcoming meeting? Being in the same room again after so many years—what would it be like? What wouldhebe like? Did she even know him anymore? She’d put a call through to Chad, and he’d laughed off the press interest. Robert hadn’t been available, but she’d spoken to his captain—the only other man who’d known about their engagement—and he’d told her not to worry about anything. Sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed, surrounded by pamphlets, reports and an illustrated, beautifully photographed guide to the Dagmar Foundation, she faced a far more difficult question.
Why did I think everything changed?Thirty-two was far different from twenty-two. Her worldview was broader. Her understanding of need was greater. She appreciated the little things so much more—so why did I assume he wouldn’t?
She flipped open the guidebook. The interior featured photography as elegant and bright as the exterior. The first page headline read Opening Day Ceremony.
Of course they held a ceremony.Armand stood in the center of a larger crowd—he was younger then, much younger. Her Charlie. Dressed in a silky black tuxedo and looking like a million bucks. Her tummy did a flip flop.
Beneath the photo was dated and the caption read:The Grand Duke Andraste personally cut the ribbon opening the first free clinic for students at the Capital University in Belgium. This international school caters to students from around the globe. The opening of the clinic marks the debut of the Dagmar Foundation, which intends to raise enough funds to cover healthcare for these students and more. The grand duke read a small statement when he cut the ribbon—“everyone deserves an opportunity to fly.”
She slammed the book shut and closed her eyes. The date they opened the clinic was her birthday and the saying—her favorite. She used to tease him that scholarship-funded students should number at least one-third on all campuses because those with money could go wherever they liked and everyone deserved an opportunity to fly.
A tear splashed onto the back of her hand and she swiped at it angrily. Determined, she flipped the book back open. He’d handed her this entire stack with the book on the top because he wanted her to know the foundation’s roots. The next page featured an article on the growth of that single clinic and how funds poured in, making it possible to add a dozen more such clinics at European universities catering to all patients—no matter their country of origin.
Filled with similar articles and photographs, the rest of the guide offered a tribute to the Andraste family and the Dagmar fortune being put to work in over thirty-two nations throughoutthe world. The California scholarship would be the first such project in the United States.
But based on what she read, it wouldn’t be the only project. Armand featured in nearly every photo—as often in the background as he was the subject. He dug trenches in Africa to pipe in fresh water. He waded into a rice paddy field in southern Vietnam, offering grants to teachers to travel and teach there.
He walked through a Russian village with a dozen children flocking around him. But it was the images behind him that arrested her heart—men in dark suits and military gear. They all watched him. The prince without a throne dedicated to saving the world—one cause at a time.
She brushed her finger down the photographed cheek. A knock at the door and she jumped, pushing the guide with a guilty jerk. She glanced at the stacks around her, having systematically worked her way through each section of paperwork and lingering only on the guide. She had a lot to straighten to get out of the bed.
“Come in.”
