Princess in the Making. Michelle Celmer

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      She wanted to tell Marcus how beautiful his home was, and how honored she felt to be there, but knew it would probably earn her another snotty response, so she kept her mouth shut.

      From the hallway that extended past the stairs, a line of nearly a dozen palace employees filed into the foyer and Marcus introduced her. Celia, the head housekeeper, was a tall, stern-looking woman dressed in a starched gray uniform, her silver hair pulled back into a tight bun. Her three charges were similarly dressed, but younger and very plain looking. No makeup, no jewelry, identical bland expressions.

      Vanessa smiled and nodded to each one in turn.

      “This is Camille,” Celia told her in English, in a flat tone that perfectly matched her dour expression, signaling for the youngest of the three to step forward. “She will be your personal maid for the duration of your stay.”

      Duration of her stay? Were they anticipating that she wouldn’t be sticking around? Or more to the point, hoping she wouldn’t?

      “It’s nice to meet you, Camille,” she said with a smile, offering her hand.

      Looking a little nervous, the young woman took it, her eyes turned downward, and with a thick accent said, “Ma’am.”

      The butler, George, wore tails and a starched, high collar. He was skin and bones with a slight slouch, and looked as though he was fast approaching the century mark … if he hadn’t hit it already. His staff consisted of two similarly dressed assistants, both young and capable looking, plus a chef and baker, a man and a woman, dressed in white, and each looking as though they frequently tested the cuisine.

      Marcus turned to George and gestured to the luggage the driver had set inside the door. Without a word the two younger men jumped into action.

      A smartly dressed middle-aged woman stepped forward and introduced herself as Tabitha, the king’s personal secretary.

      “If there is anything you need, don’t hesitate to ask,” she said in perfect English, her expression blank. Then she gestured to the young woman standing beside her, who wore a uniform similar to those of the maids. “This is Karin, the nanny. She will take care of your daughter.”

      Vanessa was a little uncomfortable with the idea of a total stranger watching her baby, but she knew Gabriel would never expose Mia to someone he didn’t trust implicitly.

      “It’s very nice to meet you,” Vanessa said, resisting the urge to ask the young woman to list her credentials.

      “Ma’am,” she said, nodding politely.

      “Please, call me Vanessa. In fact, I’ve never been one to stand on formality. Everyone should feel free to use my first name.”

      The request received no reaction whatsoever from the staff. No one even cracked a smile. Were they always so deadpan, or did they simply not like her? Had they decided, as Marcus had, that she wasn’t to be trusted?

      That would truly suck. And she would have to work extra hard to prove them wrong.

      Marcus turned to her. “I’ll show you to your quarters.”

      Without waiting for a reply, he swiveled and headed up the stairs to the left, at a pace so brisk she nearly had to jog to keep up with him.

      Unlike the beige theme of the foyer, the second floor incorporated rich hues of red, orange and purple, which personally she never would have chosen, but it managed to look elegant without being too gaudy.

      Marcus led her down a long, carpeted hall.

      “So, is the staff always so cheerful?” she asked him.

      “It’s not enough that they’ll cater to your every whim,” Marcus said over his shoulder. “They have to be happy about it?”

      With a boss who clearly didn’t like her, why would they?

      At the end of the hallway they turned right and he opened the first door on his left. Gabriel told her that she would be staying in the largest of the guest suites, but she hadn’t anticipated just how large it would be. The presidential suite at the hotel where she worked paled in comparison. The main room was big and spacious with high ceilings and tall windows that bracketed a pair of paned French doors. The color scheme ran to muted shades of green and yellow.

      There was a cozy sitting area with overstuffed, comfortable-looking furniture situated around a massive fireplace. There was also a dining alcove, and a functional desk flanked by built-in bookcases whose shelves were packed with hardback books and knickknacks.

      “It’s lovely,” she told Marcus. “Yellow is my favorite color.”

      “The bedroom is that way.” Marcus gestured toward the door at the far end of the suite.

      She crossed the plush carpet to the bedroom and peeked inside, her breath catching. It was pure luxury with its white four-poster king-size bed, another fireplace and a huge, wall-mounted flat screen television. But she didn’t see the crib Gabriel had promised.

      The weight of her sleeping daughter was starting to make her arms ache, so she very gently laid Mia down in the center of the bed and stacked fluffy pillows all around her, in case she woke up and rolled over. She didn’t even stir.

      On her way back to the living area Vanessa peered inside the walk-in closet where her bags were waiting for her, and found that it was large enough to hold a dozen of her wardrobes. The bathroom, with its soaking tub and glass-enclosed shower, had every modern amenity known to man.

      She stepped back into the living space to find Marcus standing by the door, arms crossed, checking his watch impatiently.

      “There’s no place for Mia to sleep,” she told him, and at his blank expression added, “Gabriel said there would be a crib for her. She moves around a lot in her sleep, so putting her in a normal bed, especially one so high off the ground, is out of the question.”

      “There’s a nursery down the hall.”

      There was an unspoken “duh” at the end of that sentence.

      “Then I hope there’s a baby monitor I can use. Otherwise, how will I hear her if she wakes in the middle of the night?” Though Mia slept through most nights, Vanessa was still accustomed to the random midnight diaper changes and feedings, and an occasional bad dream.

      He looked puzzled. “That would be the responsibility of the nanny.”

      Right, the nanny. Vanessa had just assumed the nanny was there for the times when Mia needed a babysitter, not as a full-time caregiver. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Vanessa worked such long hours, and was away from home often. Part of this trip was about spending more time with her daughter.

      “And where does the nanny sleep?” she asked Marcus.

      “Her bedroom is attached to the nursery,” he said, in a tone that suggested she was asking stupid questions. In his world it was probably perfectly natural for the staff to take full responsibility for the children’s care, but she didn’t live in his world. Not even close. Surely he knew that, didn’t he?

      She would have to carefully consider whether or not СКАЧАТЬ