Page 62 of The English Queen

Bruno beamed at the baby, adorably. “She’s such a beautiful baby. You two are so lucky. It’s the cheeks. My Papa is hoping somehow it is inheritable. He found Kiersten irresistible.”

Rita laughed. “I mean, she’s part of why we’re pregnant, but as I told him, the cheeks came from my grandmother’s side. Since we’re not technically fully related, I can’t ensure it.”

Vanna smiled at Rita confidently. “You will have a beautiful baby. We will spoil her within an inch of her life.”

“Bruno’s parents want a ginger child. Since both of mine are ginger, we assume we will get one. I’m glad to finally have a girl. She can come with no hair at all or a head full of hair. Either way, I will be the happiest Mum.”

“The two of them will be the best of friends,” Bruno said.

Kiersten smiled across the table at Vanna who gave her a little wave. “

Rita laughed. “Yes, look, Mummy is eating a warm dinner. Your poor mother. She has it hard with you.”

“Oh, but I could bask in the smell of her or watch her sleep for hours. It’s terrible,” Vanna admitted. “And her smile. Oh, that cheeky smile.”

“She’s so reminiscent of Bethany,” Duncan said. “I mean, could be a dead ringer for baby Beth.”

“I think the same. Mummy said as much when we were visiting, remember?” Robbie asked his brother.

Duncan answered, “Yes. I wonder if Beth and Louis’s heirs end up looking similar someday. Mum would be chuffed. As your mum would if this one looked like you, Rita. Because it would look like her.”

“I think the boys favour her more than they do Richard,” Bruno said.

“I hope she catch a tan. I will be jealous if she can. I do hope she has your dimples, darling.”

“Paul is the only genetic proof I have I did have at least one child,” Vanna said. “Poor Paul.”

“Paul is lucky his mother was a beauty, and he will inherit her charming, sweet personality as well as the finer points of her looks,” Robbie said. “He thinks she hung the moon and stars. Which, let’s face it, she did.”

Vanna blushed.

Rebecca shrugged. “Well, we gave it our best. Only time will tell how much we fucked them all up.”

Rita laughed. “Isn’t that the beautiful part of parenthood? Eighteen years to fuck them up. A lifetime to realise you did.”

Manon

Beth, Marta, and a few friends piled into the Belgian Royal Family’s town home in Paris. Beth hoped for a luxurious and inviting place to rest. It was not. The place was small, with four tiny bedrooms. With Beth’s detail, people had to double up on beds. Marta and Marie stayed together. Beth shared with Izzy who flew from Scotland. The rest of the Brits stayed with Vanna at her mother’s pied a terre. How big was it compared to this house? She’d assumed it was a flat, but Vanna agreed to host a dinner for the women before the big opera trip, which suggested it was sizable.

Beth did not favour the house’s layout. She did not like the minimal bathroom space. She had sold her apartment in Paris only a month before and already missed it. Veronique lived with her for years but moved in with another friend, still refusing to buy her own place. Beth regretted selling now. The townhouse was in a more desirable area but felt dated and closed off. Beth already renovated a chateau, so she was disinterested in another project. At least the chateau had the space they needed. How Louis’s mother travelled there with four children was beyond her.

The main event of this weekend was a costume fundraiser at the Paris Opera House. It encouraged attendees for its production of Manon to dress up straight out of Louis XV’s time. This appealed to Beth, as she could pull off a corset. Having tried on her costume before leaving, Louis was sorry to miss out.

The girls left the townhouse and crossed to the expensive, trendy district where Vanna’s mother lived. Beth’s two closest friends, Meghan Chalamet and Veronique Lhullier hosted the dinner with Vanna and Rita’s support. This was the second night of revelry. The night prior, they hit a few cocktail bars after a morning at the spa and an afternoon of shopping. Upon seeing the apartment, Beth wanted to move in. She was amazed how nice it was for a third or fourth home. Vanna’s mother spent time in New York, London, and Paris more than at the family homestead in Kentucky with her husband. Vanna’s father often travelled as well. It was the decorating and ambiance that sold the place.

“Your mother’s home is so lovely,” Beth said. “And so chic.”

“And now you know why I always hire her to play decorator. She loves nothing more. This is the third house she’s owned in Paris. We rent out the other two.” Vanna spoke as if this was a normal statement.

Sometimes, due to her salt-of-the-Earth leanings and quaint American accent, Beth forgot Vanna arrived a fabulous heiress and a privilege of obscene familial wealth. She was an earl’s daughter, and, after widowing, her mother married a billionaire. Vanna was the sort of person who didn’t need to marry in for the sake of wealth or even power. Vanna genuinely loved Robbie. There was no game to be played.

Meghan and Veronique hired some celebrity chef to cook. She did some spiel introducing the menu. Then, the girls sat for their first course and wine paring. With the lighting and candelabras, it looked like something out of an old painting.

Veronique said, “We all look so fabulous, especially our raison d’etre of the evening, eh?”

“Oh, stop.” Beth blushed.

Meghan raised her glass. “No, no, we must raise a glass to you, mademoiselle. To our Bethany, our little Hummingbird, and our dearest friend. I do understand how Louis has tamed you, but I know he has found the love of a lifetime with you. May you have many, many happy years together.”

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