Page 17 of Once Upon a Royal Summer
“Please don’t,” someone said in posh British accent. “It’s really not necessary.”
Wait, wasn’t she supposed to be in character?
Lacey stood, looking back up and her gaze immediately fixed on a familiar pair of swoony blue eyes.
Grumpy Baseball Cap?
It was him. She’d know those eyes anywhere—even here, in her boss’s boss’s boss’s office, no longer hidden beneath the brim of a navy-blue cap.
The fluttering in Lacey’s belly tightened into a knot of anxiety. What on earth was he doing here? Was she in some sort of trouble? Had he lodged a complaint about her tea party? Was he seriously that angry that she’d dragged him onto the dance floor, his ballroom-worthy moves notwithstanding?
She blinked, willing him to disappear. But when she opened her eyes, he was still there, rising to his feet as if to greet her. Right beside him, his little girl—dressed head-to-toe in a perfect replica of Lacey’s Sweet Pea costume—bounced up and down on her tiptoes.
Mr. Dole’s baffling words from earlier drifted back to the forefront of Lacey’s consciousness.
We’ll have to adjust your schedule a bit, but the second they walked in and I saw that little girl all dressed up as Princess Sweet Pea, the idea hit me. You’re absolutely perfect for this.
No. No, no, no, no, no.
Lacey felt like she might faint. This couldn’t mean… He, of all people, couldn’t be…
She shook her head as if she could somehow stop whatever absurdity was about to transpire. She wouldn’t have been the least bit surprised if hard little peas started raining down from the heavens. A full-on hailstorm of peas.
Just no.
“Princess Sweet Pea.” Mr. Dole beamed, oblivious to her suffering. “It’s my pleasure to present to you Their Royal Highnesses, Crown Prince Henry Frederick Augustus Ranier and Princess Caitriona Rose of Bella-Moritz.”
Henry was rather accustomed to extreme reactions upon being introduced to new people. It kind of went with the princely territory.
When he went on engagements—the generic royal term for duties ranging from state responsibilities and acts of charity to overseas visits—Henry was often greeted by cheering crowds, particularly in and around his home kingdom. Groups of schoolchildren often broke out in painstakingly rehearsed songs, toddlers offered him bouquets of flowers, teenage girls screamed as if he were a one-person boy band, and more than one woman had fainted dead at his feet. But never before had he prompted such an expression of shocked dismay as the one currently showing on Princess Sweet Pea’s face.
“How do you do?” he said and offered her his hand.
She stared blankly at it as every drop of color drained from her face.
An irrational surge of disappointment coursed through Henry. Unflattering didn’t even begin to cover Sweet Pea’s reaction, but since when did he care so much about the opinion of a total stranger?
Since waltzing with said stranger made you feel like a man for once, instead of just a prince.
“Ahem. Perhaps Princess Sweet Pea needs a moment to collect herself,” Simon Dole said. “I’m sure she’s quite excited.”
Excited clearly wasn’t the word for whatever Sweet Pea might be feeling at the moment. Annoyed, perhaps? Angry? Upset?
Disappointed, most certainly. But excited was nowhere on the list of possibilities.
“So sorry,” she said, collecting herself. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both.” Sweet Pea flashed Rose a wink before sliding her gloved hand into Henry’s. After the dance they’d shared, her touch was instantly familiar. All softness and light.
He ducked his head a bit to catch her gaze, and when their eyes met, he tried as hard as he could to impart a silent message. This wasn’t my idea.
The last thing Henry wanted was for her to think he was trying to force her into something she clearly didn’t want to do. Henry would’ve been just fine with a regular VIP escort. In fact, he would’ve preferred no escort at all. But Ian wouldn’t hear of it. Neither would the palace or Simon Dole. A stolen hour or two at the tea party yesterday was one thing, but the numbers one and two in line to inherit the Bella-Moritz throne couldn’t simply roam around one of the most popular tourist spots in southern Florida, all on their own. Still, Henry would never have demanded that Sweet Pea climb down from atop her pile of imaginary mattresses to be his unwilling companion for the next four days.
It was the dress. Rose had pranced into Simon Dole’s office this morning, proudly showing off her Princess Sweet Pea costume, and Simon Dole had gotten the crazy idea into his head that the “real” Sweet Pea should be their guide. Anything for the princess! It’s her royal birthday, after all!
Henry had done his best to gently object. As much as he loved his daughter—and contrary to what her grandmère believed—he tried not to spoil her. Also, this birthday trip was a chance for Rose to be as much like a regular girl as possible, and Henry hadn’t seen private, Princess Sweet Pea-guided tours anywhere in the park’s brochure. Not even the VIP section.
For once, though, no one cared what Henry thought. Simon, apparently eager to do anything and everything to make Once Upon A Time the new royal vacation hotspot, had already decided this was the way it was going to be. And Rose was bubbling over with excitement. The Crown Prince didn’t get a vote.
Having so little control over the situation—any situation, really—was a new experience for Henry. Truth be told, he didn’t quite care for it.
