The Improperly Pregnant Princess. Jacqueline Diamond
suddenly, a connection sprang to life between them.
She knew she ought to make polite conversation, to ask about his journey or offer him some refreshment. CeCe couldn’t find the words.
“You look exactly like your grandmother,” he said.
“That’s quite an honor. We have a portrait of her, you know.” Several people had pointed out a resemblance that escaped CeCe.
Her coloring was lighter than Cassandra’s, and she was taller. Hester Vanderling, the family’s former nanny and current housekeeper, attributed the similarity to the independent set of their chins.
The king blinked as if emerging from a daze, and released her hands. “Sit down, everyone. We need to talk.”
“I’ll have one of the maids bring coffee,” Charlotte said.
“It’s a bit late in the day for caffeine,” the king reproved. “Herbal tea and biscuits—cookies, you call them, I believe.”
“Right away.” On the intercom, Charlotte summoned the kitchen staff. Soon an ornate silver tray was wheeled in, with a handcrafted teapot and cups on top and two levels of cookies and small cakes.
Charlotte reached for the teapot, then stopped. “CeCe, as the eldest daughter, you should pour.”
Not since she’d had to defend her master’s thesis in front of a faculty panel had CeCe experienced such a jolt of alarm. Her tea-pouring ability was only one level above abysmal.
“Of course,” she said, doing her best to hide her dismay. Princess Bluster, that’s what her college classmates had nicknamed CeCe after she brazenly answered a teacher’s questions about a textbook chapter she’d neglected to read, and got away with it. “It would be my pleasure.”
Her sisters regarded her with varying degrees of surprise and concern. When CeCe reached for the teapot, Amelia leaned forward as if trying to help with body language.
King Easton regarded her quizzically. “You’re left-handed?”
“I’m afraid so.” Living in a right-handed world contributed to CeCe’s clumsiness, although Charlotte had never considered that an excuse.
“So was your grandmother,” said the king. “She used to complain that servingware was designed for right-handed women. We had several teapots made especially for her.”
“I’m afraid I left mine at the office,” CeCe said.
“You left your what at the office?” asked Charlotte.
“My left-handed teapot,” she said.
There was a moment’s pause, and then King Easton burst out laughing. “My granddaughter is joking! How delightful.”
CeCe’s sisters released a few giggles. Charlotte smiled cautiously.
“Would you like me to pour?” asked Amelia.
“She’s very good at it,” said Lucia.
“And I’m not,” CeCe concluded.
The king beamed at them. “I appreciate your frankness, and I’m glad to see that your sisters have kind hearts. Lady Charlotte, they’re a tribute to their upbringing.”
Their mother basked in his praise. For once, CeCe was glad to see, the three of them had won her approval.
Amelia proceeded to serve the tea without spilling a drop. Charlotte herself couldn’t have done better.
When they were all settled, the king said, “I want to tell you why I’ve come.”
“You don’t need a reason,” said his daughter-in-law.
“That’s true. Yet there is one.”
Since her mother’s announcement the previous day, CeCe had turned the matter over in her mind. Now she figured she had a pretty good idea what to expect.
Three years ago, there’d been talk that King Easton would retire on his seventy-fifth birthday. However, after his eldest son decided he wanted a few more years of relative freedom, the retirement was postponed.
Now that a year of mourning for Byrum had ended, her grandfather must have decided to hand the reins of power to Markus. Her cousin had made no secret of his eagerness to assume the role.
She wasn’t sure why Easton wanted to announce the transition to his granddaughters in person. The most likely explanation was that he sought the family’s support for the new king, along with their attendance at the coronation.
Of course they would go. CeCe only hoped her pregnancy wouldn’t be too obvious by that point.
“I’ve decided to step down from the throne,” Easton said.
CeCe nodded. It was what she’d assumed.
“We’re sorry to hear it,” Charlotte said.
“Don’t be. As long as I can hand Korosol to a strong, benevolent monarch, we should all rejoice.”
“When is the coronation to take place?” CeCe asked.
“That depends on you.”
“On us?”
“On you personally.” Easton studied her closely. “You see, Princess Cecelia, I’ve decided that you are to be my successor.”
Chapter Three
In the stunned silence that followed King Easton’s announcement, CeCe became acutely aware of the ticking of an antique clock. Of the swirl of dust motes down long shafts of light. Of the swift thumping of her heart.
Was he joking? One look at his face told her otherwise.
Her mother and sisters sat frozen. If anyone had dared to light a bomb under Charlotte’s chair, she wouldn’t have stirred.
Queen of Korosol? Such a thought had never entered CeCe’s mind, even in those childhood days when she and her sisters used to play at being princesses for real.
Of course, they were princesses for real. Living in New York, however, those titles meant little beyond the interest they stirred among the status-conscious.
“I don’t even know Korosol,” she said, then realized how ungracious that sounded. “I mean, I don’t deserve this honor. I haven’t visited the country since I was nine.”
“I’m aware of that.” Her grandfather sank back on the couch, looking weary. “I blame myself for not insisting that you girls spend a month each summer with me. However, a businesswoman with your credentials should be able to familiarize yourself with Korosol’s needs rather quickly.”
Charlotte coughed before managing to speak. “Your Majesty, I’m astounded. We’re all incredibly grateful—”
The king lifted one hand to halt the flow of words. “It’s a lifelong commitment. Since my granddaughter hasn’t been prepared for it the way I was, I won’t try to force it on her.”
“Naturally, my daughter will do anything you ask,” Charlotte assured him.
CeCe couldn’t begin to absorb the ramifications of becoming a queen. Moreover, her grandfather’s decision puzzled her.
“Although I realize the law doesn’t require it, I always assumed Markus was next in line,” she said.
Her cousin, who was half a dozen years older than CeCe, maintained an apartment in New York and a playboy lifestyle. Having seen him often over the years, she found him charming at times and manipulative at others.
Thin frown lines puckered Easton’s forehead. “I have reason to believe my grandson may not be, well, quite right for the job. That’s all I care to say on the matter.”
Perhaps it was Markus’s occasional heavy