Page 3 of Royally Theirs (Risqué Royals)

Sneaking out of another engagement party for one of my few friends makes me realize two things. One, I hate weddings and all the lead up to them. And two, I am the last one standing. The very last and the most single of them all.

This means all eyes seem to be on me. Poor Charlotte, the perpetually single one, who at twenty-one has nothing going for her. A job at the lone bookstore in Silver Shores might be rewarding, but it barely pays the bills. Few friends, each fading from her life once they get married and start families.

All Charlotte has is her cat Boots and her Gran, the richest, most elegant woman in Silver Shores. That surely is what they all say about me. Sadly, none of them would be wrong. Because what else do I have going for me, other than my days at the bookshop, my buddy Boots, and my sweet gran?

A lot of nothing is what I have going on.

“Gran? Want me to start the kettle?’

Without bothering to call a hello after I let myself in her beautiful Victorian house, I kick off my heels by the door. I take a moment to stand in the hall, sun shining through the stained-glass windows in the sitting room, throwing a rainbow of light on the floor. I love this house and I love coming here to sit with gran.

Hearing her shuffling around in the kitchen, I head that way. The hall walls are lined with photos of the two women I love the most in the world. Mom and Gran. Pausing at my favorite, one of all three of us on a trip back to Cambridge, I right the crooked frame with a sad sigh.

My gran came to America when she was a young woman, my mother just a baby. Grandpa swore to come join them or even bring them home after disputes in the region had settled. He never came for them and when we made it back there, he had passed away.

“Hello, sweetheart,” gran calls as I step into the huge kitchen.

“Hey gran,” I call back with a smile as I cross the room to press a kiss atop her head.

Gran chuckles as I breathe in her cinnamon and clean soap scent. Ma used to smell like rose water, and I miss that scent. We lost her when I was in high school, but gran was always there for me when I needed her.

“How was the party, dear?”

“I got out of there as fast as I could. Does that answer the question?” Grinning at her, I shrug a shoulder as I watch her moving fresh butter biscuits from a pan to a lovely cookie tray.

“Thought you were rather fond of this friend?”

“I was. I am. I just... we swore neither of us would ever get married. Screw the patriarchy and all that. Then she went and got engaged.”

“Do you not approve of this man?’

“No, no, of course I do. He is great. She is the happiest I have ever seen her. I just never thought getting married is what it would take to make her so happy. And of course, it also means....” I trail off when gran turns her wise blue eyes at me.

“It means you were the last one standing.”

“Yes, indeed, it does. Do we want earl gray today, Gran?”

I turn away from her to stick my head in a cabinet. None of the stacks of neatly organized teas are very interesting. I pretend otherwise, reading the types off softly as I try to catch my breath. It shouldn’t bother me that my Gran knows how lonely I am.

It bothers me because she has never seemed lonely.

“That sounds fine. Come sit with me,” her voice is soothing and still has some of her native brogue.

Turning back towards her as she takes a seat at the small table, I frown. There is something different about her today. My eyes narrow on her as I try to figure it out. As if I can spot it if I look hard enough. Giving up, I fill two teacups with boiling water and drop in the tea bags.

“Something is going on. You doing good, Gran?” I ask, hit with a sudden fear that she might have bad news about her health.

“I am good, sweetheart. Healthy as an ox. We need to talk. There is something we never talked about before. Something I was not sure we would ever have to. Turns out we do need to have this talk.”

Stirring my tea with unsteady hands, I pull in a deep breath. I am afraid she has something to tell me about my mother. Mother was a mysterious woman, and I knew little about her. I loved her and until she passed, we were close, but I always felt a distance between us.

“Well, we can talk about anything, right? We always promised each other that,” I say shakily before I take a sip of my tea.

“Let me explain everything before you react or assume anything. You know your grandfather and I both came from royalty. We were strangers before we were married. Our families thought we would be a good match. And I suppose we were for a brief time,” her voice trails off as her eyes gaze out the window at the setting sun.

“Gran, nothing you can say about him will change what he did. Heabandonedhis wife and daughter.”

Gran turns her gaze to mine, her eyes narrowing. “You never had time to know him. Neither did your mother. He was a good man. A man who did what was expected of him. He was given no choice. There were expectations of all of us.”

---