Page 2 of Royal Catch
Another crazy woman has breached the palace walls. “Do not speak to me of feminine products,” I say through gritted teeth. “Now get out.”
Someone laughs quietly nearby. I don’t care. I’m too fixated on this rude intruder, who is one second from being physically removed from the premises. By me.
“Feminine?” the woman asks, cocking her head. “Oh! Ha-ha, not tampon.Tam-pa.” She enunciates slowly and clearly like I’m an idiot. She’s the one with the accent. “That’s where I just flew in from. It’s a beautiful place.” Her brows furrow. “I’m not sure anyone would dare call tampons beautiful.”
I’m momentarily speechless.
She cups her mouth and stage-whispers behind me to the only other woman in the hall, the bride about to leave on her honeymoon, “He’s a cranky butler.”
I stiffen. She thinks I’m the butler? Granted, I haven’t been in the public eye for several years for important reasons that I will not be going into withher, and I did shave my beard off, but I hadn’t thought I’d aged so much as to be unrecognizable. I’m thirty years old, virile and vital. In my fucking prime!
“Who are you?” I ask in my most imperious voice.
She tosses her mass of wild dark curls over one shoulder and thrusts her hand out. “I’m Polly Lyon and that’s no lie.”
I stare at her hand, and my lips twitch. She’s cute. Ill-mannered, but cute.
Her brown eyes flash, and she drops her hand. “You might be the hottest butler I’ve ever seen, but…that stick up your ass really kills it for me.”
I crack a smile because she said I’m hot. I am losing it. Lack of sleep must be making me loopy, because normally this kind of insult would never slide with me. To the dungeon! Oh, yes, we have one, though it hasn’t been used in centuries.
There’s a shuffle behind me as the newlyweds take their leave. Phillip and two guards leave with them. I remain rooted in place, staring at the woman who had the audacity to address me, the crown prince of Villroy, heir to a fucking kingdom, as a butler. We’re now alone in the entrance hall, besides the usual footmen, security guards, and the actual butler.
She plants a hand on her hip, saucy as all hell. “Are you going to tell me your name, or should I just call you Jeeves?” She winks.
“Butler Phillip will suffice.” I want to laugh, throwing my brother’s name into it.
She smiles brightly, and I find myself wanting to smile back. “Just like Prince Phillip,theroyal hottie!” she exclaims. “Much cooler than the heir to the throne. That guy, oh man, I heard he’s a dud.”
“A dud,” I echo, hardly believing my ears.
She looks around as if to be sure the dud won’t overhear. “Yeah, a real stick-in-the mud. He never leaves the palace. There haven’t even been pictures of him in years, he won’t allow it. I mean, get over yourself, right?”
My jaw tightens. I am the crown prince of Villroy, my birthright, my legacy. My duty is first and foremost to the kingdom. My righteous indignation gives way to the despair that kept me up all night. The kingdom is faltering. The fishing-based economy is shaky, and the younger generation is leaving in droves. As my father’s health declines and my mother refuses to take leadership without him, I know my time will soon come as king, and that means I must find a way forward for Villroy. Phillip wants to open up the palace. I, on the other hand, want to preserve our history and tradition for future generations, which means keeping the palace closed to the public. We can’t have tourists running around, trampling over everything and destroying centuries of history. We must find another way. Only what new venture wouldn’t involve outsiders? What would keep the younger generation from abandoning ship and offer them and the island a real future?
My frustrating lack of answers is the only reason I ask her, “Why exactly are you here, Polly who doesn’t lie?”
She laughs. “I am here, Butler Phillip, by order of the queen. I’m Princess Mary Louise Lyon of the Beaumont Islands. Though I prefer my nickname, Polly.” She taps a long red fingernail with rhinestones against her lush red lips. “I was told I’d be receiving a small inheritance.”
I blanch and my gut tightens because my crafty mother has always jokingly referred to the island as our small inheritance, which means her true purpose is disturbingly clear—finding me a wife. The inheritance will be a kingdom. Polly is surely only the first in a long line of handpicked candidates. My mother’s criteria for my bride will likely be a woman with big childbearing hips. I gulp and sweat breaks out all over my body.
I’ve always known I would be required to marry nobility, to continue the line.
I just didn’t know that time was now.
~ ~ ~
Anna
Why did I say I’m not lying?I’m Polly Lyon and that’s no lie.Stupid guilty conscience. I’m Anna Hebert, and the truth is I’m here under false pretenses. It’s for a good cause. I’m helping out my cousin Polly—a bona fide princess—who got herself in trouble back in Florida for identity theft. We’re actually very distant cousins with only a great-great-great-great-great-grandfather in common. She found me through the AncestryWise website, which was awesome for both of us. For her, she’d hoped to find an American relative on her escape-to-America adventure, and for me, I was thrilled to have a cousin after growing up an orphan with no family. Though I didn’t know she sought me out at first as a family ally. That all came later. She moved into the apartment next door, and we hit it off immediately. Not only do we resemble each other (we’ve been called twins), we’re both free spirits. We became really close.
After a few months, she told me the most outlandish story—she was actually a princess in hiding from a real old-school monarchy, where her parents were pressuring her to marry a sleazy man important to her kingdom. I was understandably shocked. She’d even sounded American to my ears. (Turned out she’d picked up the accent from her posh boarding school and college in the US.) Even crazier, she told me we were distant cousins and that she’d bought the apartment building I live in when she’d first arrived to give to me as a gift, so I’d have a secure foundation after growing up an orphan. Her only request was that I let her stay as a tenant because she’d spent the money she’d brought with her on the building, and getting more funds from her homeland would alert them to her whereabouts.
Honestly, I thought it was a scam. A princess in hiding who’s a long-lost relative is buying me a building? I did my research on AncestryWise and we really are related. I even got a little excited thinking maybe I could call myself a princess with my drop of royal blood, but she explained I was too far removed to be considered royal. Anyway, I accepted the gift, transferring the property to my name at her generous insistence, and I told her I’d owe her big time. I’d planned to sell the building and use the proceeds to pay for my foster dad’s home nurse and open my own beauty salon. It’s not a huge or luxurious building, but it’s enough for my needs. Unfortunately…
Always a catch, right?
Everything came to a screeching halt when the cops showed up and arrested Polly. She’d paid someone to get her an ID so she could get the ball rolling on her undercover life. She’d just wanted a year of freedom after college before settling down with the expected marriage and producing the royal heirs. Turned out the identity was from a deceased person, and she was found out by the very same website that had brought us together. The deceased person’s aunt was building their family tree only to discover her dead niece owned property in Florida, which Polly had only bought as a gift for me. A generous yet ultimately ruinous gesture of goodwill. How can I not be loyal to her? I love this cousin of mine.
