Undercover Princess. Suzanne Brockmann

      Selected praise for Suzanne Brockmann

      “Ms. Brockmann’s compelling writing holds readers in absolute thrall.”

      —Romantic Times BOOKreviews on Undercover Princess

      “Get ready to be drawn back into a book filled with themes of family, humor and lots of heart. The characters in this book are incredibly three dimensional, likeable, warm and engaging. Princess Katherine is a classic Brockmann heroine: independent, strong, capable and honorable.”

      —The Romance Journal on Undercover Princess

      “Ms. Brockmann is a one-of-a-kind storyteller!”

      —Romantic Times BOOKreviews

      “Pure dynamite! The best of the best!”

      —Romantic Times BOOKreviews

      SUZANNE BROCKMANN

      lives just west of Boston in a house always filled with her friends—actors and musicians and storytellers and artists and teachers. When not writing award-winning romances, she sings in an a cappella group called Serious Fun and volunteers at the Appalachian Benefit Coffeehouse. Readers can find out more about her and her latest books at her Web site, www.suzannebrockmann.com.

      Undercover Princess

      Suzanne Brockmann

      For Jason, who has a thing for princesses!

      Special thanks and acknowledgment are given to Suzanne Brockmann for her contribution to the ROYALLY WED series.

      Contents

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 6

      Chapter 7

      Chapter 8

      Chapter 9

      Chapter 10

      Chapter 11

      Chapter 12

      Chapter 13

      Chapter 14

      Chapter 15

      Chapter 16

      Chapter 17

      Chapter 18

      Chapter 19

      Chapter 20

      Chapter 1

      “Have you been with the agency for long?”

      Princess Katherine of Wynborough gazed at the neatly dressed woman who was pacing nervously in the entrance hall of the Sutherland estate. “Excuse me?”

      “You are here for the job interview, too, aren’t you?” the woman asked. “I’ve worked as the Hendrickson’s nanny for years, but they’re moving overseas. I wanted to stay in the Albuquerque area, but now I’m not sure which would be worse—living in Hong Kong or working for Trey Sutherland.”

      And right then, for Katherine, suddenly everything was crystal clear.

      Job interview. That’s why it had suddenly become so easy to get onto the Sutherland estate. His secretary had thought she had called for a job interview.

      Trey Sutherland was, without a doubt, the most difficult man in the entire state of New Mexico to meet face-to-face. For nearly a week, she’d been given a complete runaround every time she’d called. No, Mr. Sutherland was unable to take the princess’s call. No, Mr. Sutherland was unavailable to meet with anyone until after the New Year at the earliest. I’m sorry, Mr. Sutherland sends his regrets.

      She suspected Trey Sutherland hadn’t even received her messages. It wouldn’t have surprised her one bit to find out the man had given his assistant authority to screen his calls. And if it wasn’t pure business, it wasn’t getting through.

      But then, this morning, just like that—jackpot. Katherine had called, and without identifying herself, had asked to speak to Mr. Sutherland. His secretary had put her on hold, and then had come back on the line to ask if she wanted to set up an appointment. Katherine had barely had time to say yes, of course, before the woman had told her, “Three o’clock. Sharp.” She’d rattled off the address of the Sutherland estate on the outskirts of Albuquerque, and hung up, leaving Katherine somewhat taken aback by the rapid-fire, no-nonsense American pace.

      It hadn’t occurred to her at the time that the secretary hadn’t taken down Katherine’s name. The implications weren’t clear—until now.

      And now, after a harried flight from Colorado, it was obvious that the only reason she’d been waved in through those heavy cast-iron gates out front was because she’d been mistaken, first from her well-schooled British accent, and now again from her less than regal demeanor, as a candidate for the position of nanny.

      Oh, dear.

      “You’ve heard the rumors.” The other woman in the waiting area simply couldn’t sit still. “You know, about Trey Sutherland?”

      “Actually,” Katherine said evenly, “I haven’t.”

      The woman moved closer to Katherine’s chair as she lowered her voice. “His wife died a few years ago. Definitely under mysterious circumstances. I’ve heard he was a suspect, but the police never found enough evidence to convict him.” She shivered. “It’s so gloomy in here.”

      “It’s raining,” Katherine pointed out. The thunderstorm had started, the clouds opening up, as she’d pulled into the driveway of the estate. “It’s gloomy everywhere right now.”

      There was a mirror on the wall opposite her, and she looked critically at her reflection. Neat white blouse buttoned nearly to her chin. Dark-gray wool skirt, dark-gray jacket. Sensible low heels. Her hair was neither red nor auburn like her sisters’. Although it gleamed slightly in the dim light that came through the windows, it was completely, unremarkably brown, her bangs framing a face that wasn’t exotically beautiful like Elizabeth, or elegantly regal like Alexandra, or charmingly pretty like Serena.

      No, while her three sisters truly looked like princesses, Katherine looked like…someone’s nanny. Her face was a little too round, her mouth a little too soft, and her eyes were a very, very sensible shade of gray.

      “How would you sleep at night?” the woman asked. “Wondering if he really did kill her?” She gathered up her purse and raincoat. “I think I’d rather go to Hong Kong.”

      “But that’s silly,” Katherine said as the door closed behind the woman. “You don’t know any of the facts. It’s only a rumor.”

      Another door opened, and a diminutive Mexican-American woman peeked out. “Are you the only one?” she said in a lilting Spanish accent as she entered the room for a closer look, as if more nanny candidates might be hiding beneath the long bench that lined one wall, or under the other straight-backed chair that sat on the earth-colored tile.

      “I appear to be,” Katherine said apologetically. “However—” She closed her mouth abruptly. She would apologize for the mistake only after she met the elusive Trey Sutherland.

      “I’m Anita,” the little gray-haired woman said. “I’m Trey’s housekeeper.”

      Anita and Trey. It was charmingly informal. Anita wore jeans and a big bulky sweater, Katherine realized. And sneakers on her feet.

      “He’s not quite ready for you,” Anita said, “but why don’t you follow me anyway?”

      As the housekeeper