Heirs Book Two: American Lady (21 page)

“Why not get Declan to fly over for a few
days so we can make it a family gathering?” Lorenzo suggested. “The
Festival’s closing ceremony is tomorrow night, we can wrap
everything up by the next day and be in Altobello on
Wednesday.”

“He has to study for summer school,” Nikki
was ready to scream at the way Lorenzo was supporting Maixent and
Charley in their plan.

“There’s no reason he couldn’t take a break
at the end of the week around the Memorial Day weekend,” Charley
proposed. “That way it could be seen as a family holiday rather
than raising speculation by the paparazzi,” Charley pushed her
point as adamantly as her mother was resisting.

Nikki felt hemmed in. Casting about her
desperately she encountered St John’s speculative gaze. The man was
already far too suspicious for her peace of mind. She realized that
the more she resisted the invitation the more curious he would
become about her motives.

“Perhaps your mother has her reasons for not
wishing to renew her acquaintance with Queen Leigh,” St John,
popping Grand Marnier flavored wild strawberries into his mouth,
said with assumed innocence. He was never afraid to see the fat hit
the fire.

In the sudden silence they could hear the
hiss of Nikki’s abrupt inhalation. How bitterly she regretted
saying anything to St John. She felt their collective eyes on her
like a firing squad. She had to avoid the minefield that St John
had laid before her.

“Did you used to know Queen Leigh?” Charley
looked inquisitively at her mother.

“A schoolgirl acquaintance thirty years
ago,” Nikki objected warily, knowing she now had no recourse but to
consent to Maix’s invitation. “If you’re sure your parents are
agreeable to our visit, then I’ll ring my staff at American Lady
tomorrow and sort out arrangements,” Nikki said carefully, dreading
the thought of facing Leigh again after their interview in
Paris.

“St John and Miss Bradley, you are of course
also welcome to visit as well,” Maixent added politely.

“Oh, I would love to, but I must return to
work,” Jazz said in disappointment.

“Tempting,” St John acknowledged the
invitation. “However, I need to return to England to prep Lorenzo’s
team for the Queen’s Cup. And there are a few other matters I’d
like to look into.” There was no place like a newspaper morgue for
delving into the past, he thought. He’d give his Aussie boss a call
when he got to London.

St John darted a quick searching look at
Nikki. She felt a shiver of apprehension tingle down her spine.

The air was balmy, the sun was already hot and high
by nine o’clock in the morning. Light shimmered off the white stone
of the villa and reflected off the aquamarine water of the
pool.

Lorenzo, looking tanned and energetic,
dressed in white drill pants, an open-neck blue shirt and a white
hat, roamed restlessly around the kidney-shaped pool, a cordless
phone to his ear. He had just hung up from St John who had reported
that his team were in terrific shape and looked a good bet for
winning the Coronation Cup.

He was now talking to his director Jeff
Zweling.

“It’s essential that we get footage of the
Rouge et Rose Ball. Especially when the palace makes the
announcement,” Lorenzo was talking persuasively into the
mouthpiece. “We’ll tell them it won’t be intrusive at all. We’ll
put the cameramen in black tie, so the guests won’t notice.”

Declan stroked lazily past Lorenzo, water
splashing in sparkling droplets over his sandals.

“Look there’ll be so many chandeliers
blazing who’ll notice a few flood lights?” Charley had hinted that
Maixent wanted to announce the engagement at the Rouge et Rose Ball
in September and Lorenzo had decided that would form the opening
scenes of the documentary, even though Maixent hadn’t broached the
subject with King Henri.

Breakfast between Nikki and Charley was not
only under the garden umbrella but under considerable strain. They
both wore dark YSL sunglasses and glum faces. A dinner party was
planned for tomorrow evening to introduce the two sets of parents
and it didn’t take a clairvoyant to see that Nikki was dreading
it.

Charley flipped idly through a magazine,
ignoring Nikki and wishing her stomach would stop feeling so
jittery about the prospective meeting. Maix had informed her that
Aurelie and his uncle and aunt were arriving from Paris and would
also be attending the dinner. Added to that, Oakley had wheedled
another weekend permission from her mother and was flying over
straight after school ended for the day. Although it had been her
idea to get the two families together, misgivings were now
launching a full scale attack on Charley’s digestive system.

“It’s not too late,” Nikki said softly. “You
still have a choice. Your relationship with Maixent hasn’t
attracted public notice. You’ve made no formal announcement.”

Charley looked up from her magazine, her
eyes hidden behind her glasses.

“You know you’re going to hate living life
in a fishbowl. You won’t have any privacy,” Nikki persisted.

“I’m used to it,” Charley snapped. “How many
six year olds have to attend their father’s funeral with every move
recorded for the nation and posterity?” she demanded. “I didn’t ask
to be the daughter of a president. But becoming a prince’s wife is
my choice. I know I can handle it. So why are you trying to break
us up? Is it because you don’t want me to be happy and have a
successful relationship?”

“That’s not true!” Tears welled in Nikki’s
eyes. “There is nothing in the world I want more than your
happiness. I’m just not sure you’ll get it by marrying Prince
Maixent.” Nikki reached out, putting her arms around Charley. Both
of them now had tears trickling beneath their designer frames.

“Promise me you’ll make an effort to get to
know Maix? Once you do you’ll fall in love with him too and
understand why I have to marry him,” Charley gripped her mother’s
hands. Stifling a sob, Nikki nodded agreement.

Declan hauled himself, dripping like a
bronzed water god, out of the pool. Charley threw him a towel.

“Dry off before you come near this table,”
she warned him.

“I could say the same for you.” He motioned
rubbing his fists against his eyes as though he were bawling, but
his grin showed he was obviously pleased to see that his mother and
sister finally appeared to have made amends. Charley knew that
their recent sniping at each other had made spending time at home
unbearable.

It did seem that Declan’s mood had decayed
when she told him that St John and Jazz had been together in
Cannes. She wondered if he was upset about his disastrous end of
year exam results. Newt had confided in her to enlist her help in
persuading Declan to enroll in summer school. But obviously he was
eager for any excuse to leave his studies because at Charley’s
phone call he had immediately hopped on the first plane to Nice. He
had arrived Thursday lunchtime and had already met Maixent and the
two men had spent a late night at the neighboring casino.

Lorenzo finished his conversation and joined
them at the table. He’d hardly sat down when the phone rang again.
Nikki frowned.

“I’ve heard of grass widows but Nikki’s
turned into a ‘phoney’ widow,” Declan muttered to Charley, helping
himself to soft buttery croissants filled with melted Swiss cheese
and succulent ham.

“Sorry, querida,” Lorenzo smiled
apologetically as he answered it. He clamped a hand over the
mouthpiece. “It’s the palace,” he hissed and got up to wander
around the pool again.

“Of course, of course, I understand totally.
Delicacy and worldliness are my middle names,” they heard him
saying until he strolled out of earshot.

“I had a great jog with Maix this morning,”
Declan remarked, stuffing prosciutto ham and melon into a third
croissant.

Charley was thrilled that he and Maixent had
taken an immediate liking to each other, bonding over their common
athletic ground. Declan was impressed with Maix’s Olympic
accomplishments and Maixent had congratulated Declan on his
triathlon experience.

“Maix’s schedule is so busy he has time for
everybody but me,” Charley couldn’t keep the resentment out of her
voice. Maixent had explained gently that official engagements had
been made weeks, even months, ahead and the royal family couldn’t
disregard them.

On Wednesday Maixent had managed to meet
them at the helipad and then handed them over to Thiérry so they
could settle themselves in the charming villa he had arranged for
their stay. That evening Charley, Nikki and Lorenzo had joined the
royal family at the Opera House to hear the Saito Kinen Orchestra
and then afterwards attended a formal supper with nearly a hundred
other guests.

On Thursday Maix had managed two free hours
to lunch informally with them and invite Declan to the Nice casino
that evening, followed by an early morning jog.

Today Maixent was booked to open an
exhibition at the Prince’s Gallery in the heart of St Benezet for
some of his favorite Altobesque artists, among them Gérard Bettane
and Isabelle Fleur. King Henri and Queen Leigh were engaged to host
a dinner for the Swiss Ambassador, so Anouk had made a reservation
for the Cassidy-De Angelis clan at one of Altobello’s more
exclusive restaurants for dinner. Tomorrow night they were finally
going to have a formal but private dinner with the
Marchessinis.

“Well, if you’d got up at six this morning
you could have joined us,” Declan pointed out. “If you’ve got
nothing better planned for today why don’t we play tourist? Since
you’re the local expert you can be my guide,” Declan proposed.

“Okay,” Charley agreed half-heartedly, her
attention focused on Lorenzo’s swift pacing. “What was that all
about?” she anxiously questioned him when he returned to the table,
while Nikki removed the phone from his hand and purposefully put it
out of his reach.

“I have an appointment with King Henri
before dinner tomorrow night to discuss the terms of your
engagement. So, are you absolutely, one hundred per cent sure you
want to go through with this, Charley?” Lorenzo, looking eagle-like
with his patrician nose, only spoilt by its bulbous tip, watched
Charley’s reaction with his penetrating dark eyes. “A royal
engagement is not like any other engagement and a European wedding
is not like an American wedding,” he warned.

“Yes, I am certain,” she tried not to sound
grumpy, but she wished people would stop assuming she didn’t know
what she was getting into. “So what plans were you discussing?”

“There’s the matter of your dowry to
discuss,” Lorenzo, his hands finally free of the phone, helped
himself to one of the few remaining soft buttery croissants, piling
on thick blackberry jam.

“What? The Marchessinis don’t really expect
you to barter for me like a sack of potatoes do they? I thought
when Maix mentioned the dowry it was a quaint formality,” Charley
said, aghast.

Declan burst into loud guffaws. “That’s the
most entertaining thing I’ve heard since my arrival. I must say,
that certainly takes the croissant!” Charley and Lorenzo ignored
him.

“Not at all. The dowry should reflect the
status of the husband,” Lorenzo informed her.

“Why wasn’t I consulted about the dowry? I’m
Charley’s parent.” Nikki looked more offended than surprised by the
arrogance of King Henri assuming that Lorenzo, as the man, could
take responsibility for financial matters.

Charley frowned. “I’m not going to be bought
and sold. People will think the kingdom is broke if they’re
insisting on this custom. It’s medieval and demeaning. People will
think Maix only wants to marry me for my money.” Charley crossed
her arms belligerently.

“At my meeting with King Henri I’ll suggest
you bring your own sack of potatoes,” Lorenzo offered wryly.

“All we can afford is a bag of French
fries,” Declan quipped, chuckling to himself.

“Shut up!” Charley howled, throwing a
toweling robe over his head.

“Well, if you don’t want to go through with
the engagement under these conditions just say so,” Nikki hastened
to add.

Charley’s frown grew positively thunderous.
She knew perfectly well that her mother’s finances certainly
wouldn’t stretch to a dowry reflecting Maixent’s royal standing.
Was her mother hoping this would be a sticking point to abandon the
engagement?

“Trust me, Charley. You are like my own
daughter. I will seek inspiration for a Cassidy legacy that will
provide an enduring dowry.”

Charley did feel very odd about being
bargained over. But as Lorenzo said, this wasn’t an ordinary
engagement. She wasn’t marrying some Clydesdale, all-American boy
next door. With Dan and her other boyfriends, the relationships had
been angst-filled, dynamite-loaded with confusing and often
conflicting emotions that she had struggled to balance as she
molly-coddled them along.

With Maixent, for the first time she felt
she was in a fully-functional relationship between two equal
adults. It was such a relief to simply be herself and know that
Maixent loved her for it. The relationship just felt effortless,
joyful and natural. She could no longer imagine not having him in
her life. She’d told Maix that she didn’t care how much formality
or how many technicalities were thrown at them, she was in it
forever. If she believed that “nothing and no one will ever tear us
apart,” then surely this was a minor hiccup?

“Of course I still want to marry Maix. More
than anything else in the world. But, Lorenzo, I don’t want this to
leak out and have the press speculate that Maix is marrying me only
for money.”

“You don’t think he is, do you, darling?”
Nikki leapt in.

Charley paused, shocked at this thought,
then she turned her anger onto Nikki. “How dare you suggest that!
The Marchessinis are hardly paupers. Maix has no interest in my
family’s money. We love each other. I will marry him no matter
what,” she enunciated very clearly.