Page 36 of The Prince's Pregnant Secretary

“Are you comfortable with going out and being seen by the public?”

“It’s something that needs to happen. I think it would be good for both of us to get out of the house, too, and see some of the local sights. Isn’t that what a honeymoon is for?”

The local sight Alaric had picked for their dinner proved to be one of the most exclusive restaurants on the shores of Lake Geneva. Perched on a blufftop that overlooked the lake, the main dining room was dotted with intimate tables and flickering candles. A stone fireplace dominated one side of the room, while the other three featured floor-to-ceiling windows with incredible views of the countryside. Their waiter guided them around the perimeter to a private room tucked off to the side, complete with its own small fireplace and a table set for two. A vase with a red rose stood in stark relief against the white tablecloth, two small tealights flickering on either side of the vase.

Clara tried to ignore the whispers she heard behind them as the waiter pulled out her chair. When she glanced at the dining room, it was to see numerous heads whipping around in a fatal attempt not to be caught starting.

“I’m guessing we’ll be featured on the morning news.”

Alaric glanced at the curious diners and shrugged. “It was time. I had our public relations office send out a press release tonight anyway.”

“You what?”

He looked up at her, his brows drawing together in a frown. “I’d asked you earlier about sharing our pictures from the wedding.”

He had, she acknowledged. But she hadn’t expected a full media campaign.

“I thought that would be something we’d do together.”

“It’s not like a standard civilian marriage, Clara. Anything that goes public like that has to go through our PR department.”

She knew that. Of course she knew that. Since the department had been formed a couple months ago, she’d sent over numerous articles and sound bites for them to put together into a story or for sharing the palace’s social media. But being restricted herself was going to take some getting used to.

Part of her wanted to fold in on herself, the way she used to with Miles. It had been a habit she’d developed when they’d dated. Whenever he would shoot her down, she’d agree and withdraw. It avoided conflict and kept things at least manageable between the two of them. After her marriage, she’d swung the other direction, standing firm in almost every situation and not budging an inch. It had helped her on numerous occasions. But it had also kept people at arm’s length. It hadn’t been until she’d grown closer to Meira and started talking more with Briony that she’d realized just how much she’d used her supposed spine of steel to keep herself safe.

There had to be a compromise between the two parts of herself.

“Could I be involved in decisions like that?”

Alaric looked up from the menu in surprise. “What?”

“I understand the need to follow protocol,” she said, her words tumbling over each other as nerves got the better of her. “I’ve lived it for seven years. I’ve enforced it more times than I can count. But I’d like to feel like a partner in this relationship as much as possible. Even just being told what’s going to happen, instead of being told after the fact, would make me feel like I’m respected and not just an ornamental chess piece being moved around the board.”

Alaric stared at her for a long moment, his eyes narrowed in thought. Part of her felt like she’d overstepped. But the other part, the part that had gone toe to toe with His Royal Highness, struggled to not say more and push her case.

Alaric surprised her by reaching across the table and grabbing her hand in a light grasp.

“A reasonable request. I will most likely need to be reminded from time to time.”

She squeezed his fingers before letting go of his hand and picking up her own menu. “Thank you, Alaric.”

The rest of the evening passed in a very pleasant fashion. Their waiter brought them dishes like Swiss onion soup, saffron risotto with creamy baked mushrooms andZurcher Pfarrhaustorte, a tart stuffed with grated apples, toasted nuts and cinnamon and baked to perfection. For the first time since she’d known Alaric, their conversation didn’t revolve around political deals or meetings or upcoming legislation. She told him about her parents, from reading in the corner of her father’s mechanic shop while he worked on cars to summers spent at the beach with both of her parents. He surprised her by sharing memories of his mother and growing up in the palace, including one time when his mother had taught him how to slide down the banister in the main hall and he’d nearly taken out a visiting dignitary.

“She sounds like a wonderful mother,” Clara said with a laugh.

“She was.” Alaric’s expression darkened slightly. “She was taken too soon.”

Clara looked down at her half-eaten tart. She knew that the queen had passed away quickly and unexpectedly of a heart attack years ago. Judging by the look on Alaric’s face, though, there was more to the story.

There always was.

She glanced toward the dining room again. Would Temperance and Stanley see the press release about her marriage? Would they connect the dots, that their former daughter-in-law had married the future king of Linnaea? They lived in Los Angeles now, a world away from Eastern Europe. But technology had connected the farthest corners of the earth. As much as she wanted to believe there was a chance they’d miss it, she imagined it was only a matter of time.

The real question was, what would they do when they found out? Would they leave her alone, as they had these past eight years? Or would they try to seek revenge, angry that their former daughter-in-law was trying to move on with her life?

She yanked herself out of the past. Alaric had just confided something intensely personal and here she was thinking about herself.

“Losing a mother is never easy.” She glanced down at her stomach. “If...if it’s a girl, we could name her Marianne. In honor of her.”

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