Marrying the Rebel Prince: Your invitation to the most uplifting romantic royal wedding of 2018!. Janet Gover
the glint in his blue eyes. He was laughing at her!
‘But first,’ Prince Nicolas continued, before she could think of a suitable retort, ‘I was going to suggest lunch. That is, if artists and their subjects are permitted to eat.’
She was hungry. Lauren realized it the moment the word lunch fell from those slightly mocking lips. An early morning tub of yoghurt wasn’t enough sustenance for the sort of day she was having. Lauren suddenly became aware of another rather pressing need. She would have to ask … Her face felt flushed at the mere thought.
‘Lunch is a good idea …’ She wasn’t really thinking about food. How could she broach that subject? Especially with a prince.
‘Excellent.’ Prince Nicolas seemed not to notice her growing discomfort. ‘I was going to send for something, but as you dislike being served, perhaps you would prefer the staff mess?’
‘Yes, yes. That would be fine …’ She was too concerned with other needs to take umbrage at his jibe.
‘If you would like to refresh yourself first,’ the prince continued smoothly, ‘through the door. The second on the left.’
‘Oh.’ Lauren blushed. Had she been that obvious?
‘One of the disadvantages of living in a palace –’ he grinned as he spoke ‘– is that most of them were built before indoor plumbing. The facilities can be hard to find, and even the Verbier d’Arennes occasionally need to use the bathroom.’
The words echoed in Lauren’s head as she almost fled the room. The bathroom was exactly where he had indicated, and with relief she shut and locked the door behind her. The bathroom might have been a later innovation in an old building, but it certainly was luxurious. In fact, so luxurious that Lauren couldn’t help but wonder if it wasn’t the prince’s personal facility. At least the toilet paper wasn’t monogrammed. Lauren didn’t think she could have coped with that.
She washed her hands under taps that looked disturbingly like gold. Running her hands through her hair, Lauren looked at herself in the mirror.
‘What’s wrong with you?’
The face in the mirror stared back impassively.
‘You have got to get a grip on yourself. Just because he’s a prince, doesn’t mean you should be intimidated by him. Remember – he asked for you. He wouldn’t have done that if he knew about your father and jail and everything.’
Her reflection still looked unconvinced. Quickly she ran her fingers through her blue and white hair, remembering his words. The unusual colour really did highlight her eyes. If he noticed her eyes, that sort of put them on an even footing, because she certainly noticed his. When he looked at her, she felt a tiny disconcerting frisson.
‘Stop it,’ she told the face in the mirror. ‘You’ve got a lot riding on this. Stop thinking like some silly schoolgirl, and start thinking like an artist.’
That helped. As long as she didn’t think about the look on her subject’s face when he saw her sketch of someone else. She would soon rectify that. This very afternoon she would do a sketch of him, just to smooth things over. Once that was displayed on her notice board, their relationship could settle into a steady professional pattern.
‘I’ll paint that face,’ she told the girl in the mirror, ‘not daydream about it!’
Her resolve thus strengthened, she unlocked the door.
* * *
Their entry into the room caused a moment’s surprised silence, followed immediately by a scraping of chairs as people leaped to their feet. Prince Nicolas raised one hand and shook his head, indicating the people should resume both their seats and their meals. They did, but it was obvious even to Lauren that the atmosphere in the room had changed.
‘You don’t normally eat here, do you?’ she couldn’t help but ask.
‘Not as a habit, no.’
‘Have you ever eaten here?’
‘No.’
That explained the whispered conversations, and the covert glances being thrown their way. The mess hall was just that – a hall. Tables filled the bulk of it, while at one end a collection of refrigerators and benches and serve-yourself hot plates made it clear that table service was not an option. The diners were a mixed crowd. Palace secretaries shared their meals with soldiers. Books and papers on some tables showed that working lunches were underway. At one end, a couple of gardeners were eating home-made sandwiches from plastic lunch boxes. All shared the same expression of utter surprise as they resumed their meals.
A woman hastened towards them. Looking flustered, she dropped a quick and inexpert curtsey.
‘You Royal Highness. We didn’t expect …’
‘That’s fine. Neither did I,’ Prince Nicolas assured her. ‘No formality, please. We’re simply looking for a table, and something to eat.’
‘Yes, sir. Of course.’ The woman cast a curious glance at Lauren, then looked around. ‘If you would wait just a moment, sir, I’ll have the staff prepare a table.’
‘No. That’s not necessary,’ Lauren cut in. ‘Any table will be fine. How about that one?’ She indicated an unoccupied table in a quiet corner. It was identical to the metal tables used by the other diners.
‘Ah … yes. Of course.’ The woman looked at Prince Nicolas for approval. He nodded his head almost imperceptibly.
‘And,’ Lauren continued firmly, ‘there is no need to concern yourself with a tablecloth or any of the trimmings. We are not looking for anything more than anyone else gets.’
The woman looked shocked. She acquiesced to Lauren’s request, but only after another glance at the prince.
In a few short moments they were sitting at the table, the woman hovering anxiously nearby. Ignoring the royal personage at her side, Lauren proceeded to order a toasted ham and cheese sandwich, a slice of carrot cake and a chocolate milkshake. The woman made no notes, she simply nodded and turned to Prince Nicolas.
‘Your Royal Highness?’
‘I’ll have the same.’
‘Certainly.’ The woman backed away from the table, leaving the impression of a curtsey, even though she hadn’t actually bent her knees.
Lauren looked at the prince in surprise.
‘What is it?’ he asked.
‘I didn’t take you for a ham and cheese sandwich kind of person.’
‘Really? What did you think I ate for lunch? Truffles? Roasted swan? Jellied larks’ tongues?’
Lauren opened her mouth to reply but said nothing at all. Because he was right. Well, not about the larks’ tongues, but certainly she had imagined a far more extravagant meal. But then, she had never imagined sharing lunch with the notorious ‘playboy prince’ on a bare table and metal chairs in a staff mess.
‘Why call this a mess?’ Lauren groped for a safe question.
‘Because it’s run by the army’s catering corps.’
‘I see.’ She was tempted to ask why, but decided she needed to maintain some sense of control over both the conversation, and her situation. Keep it professional, she told herself.
‘You wanted to talk about the portrait,’ Prince Nicolas said, leaning slightly forward, his eyes fixed intently on Lauren’s face. ‘So, what do you want of me?’
What did she want of him? Well, mostly she wanted him not to be quite so close or quite so handsome, and most definitely she wanted him to stop making her heart beat in such a strange way.
‘I need to spend some time observing you in your daily routine,’ she said. ‘If it’s possible, I’d like to attend some of