Little Lady Agency and The Prince (11 page)

‘Well,’ I began, turning pink, ‘Godric wasn’t so awful – he was just a fish out of water, and I helped him to—’

‘He was an embarrassment,’ interrupted Granny. ‘Have you heard of him, Alex, darling? Ric Spencer? English actor, was in that film with the big plane crash? Anyway, he was upsetting people, sulking in interviews, no idea how to behave whatsoever. And Melissa stepped in and smoothed off his edges, and now he’s meant to be the next Hugh Grant, isn’t he? Did you tell me he’s in the running for James Bond?’

I blushed. ‘Yes, well, that was meant to be confidential . . .’

Alexander sighed deeply and spread his snowy-white napkin on his lap. ‘Dilys, I don’t doubt Melissa’s . . . capabilities for a second. I just wonder if it’s fair to land her with such a Herculean task.’ He smiled sadly at me.

‘Just what exactly is this Herculean task?’ I asked sweetly. ‘If you would explain what it is, I’ll be able to tell you whether I’m up to it or not.’

Alexander and Granny looked at each other.

‘He’s your grandson, Alex,’ said Granny encouragingly. ‘Better explain before he gets back, don’t you think?’

Alexander hesitated, then looked me square in the eye.

I tried not to melt.

‘My father was the last reigning prince-governor of a small province on the Montenegran coast,’ he said. ‘It wasn’t large, but we had a beautiful, ancient castle, and a marina and a wonderful forest where we kept truffle hounds . . . Anyway, there was a revolution in the nineteen thirties, long before your time, of course . . .’

‘And ours, darling,’ Granny reminded him.

Alexander allowed himself a little smile. ‘And ours. In any case, we were forced to abandon our family home in a great hurry, and move to France, but I have dreamed of returning ever since. And now, I am so pleased to say, there’s a chance that we can.’

‘Oh, how lovely!’ I exclaimed. ‘Just like a film!’

‘Ah.’ He raised a finger. ‘There are conditions. The country is not rich, and we must maintain the castle ourselves, which is not a problem. It would be an honour to do so. And we must allow people to look around some of it, and allow the BBC to film some drama there once a year, or somesuch. My lawyers are looking into that. But the main difficulty is that the government is very traditional. They want a family, a respectable family that they can show off to tourists.’ He shrugged his shoulders in a gorgeously European manner.

‘Ah,’ I said, beginning to understand.

‘My daughter, Oriane, is not . . .’ He turned to Granny. ‘What is the best way to put this, Dilys?’

‘Oriane reminds me very much of your mother,’ said Granny, looking at me meaningfully. ‘I think they have the same taste in
spas
. And
detox centres
. And kinesiologists.’

‘She is not the same after the last divorce,’ agreed Alexander.

‘And Nicky’s father?’

‘We do not speak of him,’ he said gravely.

‘Racing driver,’ murmured Granny under her breath.

‘It has been made very clear to me that unless Nicky shows he can calm his behaviour, take on some responsibility, the deal cannot go ahead. And my family will lose this last chance. I must confess, yes, I would like to see him settled down, and thinking of a family, instead of just his own pleasure. But not with someone who’ll make the situation . . .’ he paused, ‘
worse.
’ Alexander looked up me, concerned. ‘I’m afraid he won’t meet the right girl, the way he is now. Would
you
want to marry him, Melissa?’

‘Well . . .’ I stammered, not sure what the polite response was.

‘No, you wouldn’t.’ Alexander shook his head. ‘And that makes all of us so unhappy. Ours is not an
illustrious
family, but it is an old one, and our name has never, ever, been dragged through the tacky papers this way. We do not want Nicolas to end up with a trapeze artist, in and out of the divorce courts, children everywhere.’

‘But, if he wants to—’ I began.

‘Nicolas does exactly what he wants,’ said Granny tartly. ‘That’s the point. Which is fine when you’re a merchant banker from Epsom. But he wants all the fun of being a prince, and none of the responsibility that goes with it.’

Alexander raised his majestic, sad eyes to mine. ‘What I would like to engage you to do, Melissa, is simply show him the right way to behave. For a few months.’

‘Improve his profile,’ added Granny. ‘Be seen with Nicky at a few art galleries and museums, instead of the usual trampy masseuses he falls asleep on in that nightclub.’ Her brow furrowed. ‘What’s it called? That one Prince Harry goes to.’

‘Boujis,’ I said automatically. But a dread thought was dawning on me. ‘Be
seen
with Nicky?’ What
exactly
had Granny told him about my agency? ‘You don’t want me to pretend to be his girlfriend, do you?’ I looked at Alexander. ‘Perhaps I didn’t mention it, but Jonathan is my fiancé. We were engaged at Christmas. He would . . .’ I stopped myself saying ‘go nuclear if I did this again’ and corrected it to, ‘be very reluctant to agree to my doing this.’

Alexander opened his mouth, but Granny cut in. ‘Think of it more as image consulting,’ she said. ‘Like a PR expert.’

Just as I was searching for the right way of pointing out that rebranding Prince Nicolas was more than most experienced PRs would take on, Alexander suddenly threw his napkin on the plate, got to his feet and excused himself.

Nicolas had appeared at the door, dressed in a tight shirt with three buttons undone, a pair of dark jeans held up with a belt that screamed ‘This buckle is made from gold by Gucci!’, and loafers.

I didn’t need to inspect his feet to guess that he wouldn’t have bothered with socks.

Granny and I watched as Alexander opened his arms wide, and escorted his grandson out of the dining room with all the appearance of warm family feeling. I knew enough about displays of warm family feeling to suspect it was anything but.

‘Probably going to lend him a tie,’ I suggested, to break the silence.

Granny put out a bejewelled hand and grasped mine over the table. I braced myself for some serious persuasion. No one in my entire family could ask for anything normally. More worryingly from my point of view, none of them could take no for an answer either.

‘Please, darling,’ she said in a low, impassioned voice. ‘You’re the only person Alex can turn to! I have heard him
dream
about that castle for forty-five years!’

‘Ladle on the emotional blackmail, why don’t you?’ I said faintly.

‘Think of it as a challenge, then!’ She arched her eyebrow. ‘And what about the knock-on effect it’ll have for the rest of your business?’

‘But Jonathan would never agree to let me do something like this again,’ I insisted. ‘Not after Godric. He hates the idea of me getting emotionally entangled in other men’s problems – and this is obviously a big family issue!’

‘Well, isn’t Jonathan in Paris these days?’

‘There are newspapers in Paris,’ I reminded her.

She made a dismissive gesture and played what was obviously her trump card. ‘Anyway, we haven’t even discussed terms yet. I know Alex is prepared to be
very
generous.’

‘That doesn’t make the slightest difference,’ I said stoutly.

Well, actually, it did, I reminded myself. If I was going to buy my office, it made
all
the difference.

But I wasn’t sure I could do what Granny and Alex wanted me to. Until I met Nicolas, I hadn’t realised how far out of my depth I’d be; now I had, I was pretty sure I’d have to say no. A sudden wave of disappointment hit me as the rosy mental image of me triumphantly showing Jonathan the deeds to the flat vanished before my eyes.

‘Oh, well, then.’ Granny picked up a menu and began to study it. ‘What a shame. Never mind.’

We examined the entrees in strained silence.

Nelson had gone through my accounts very patiently and explained that though my turnover was enough to pay the mortgage, I needed to find at least thirty thousand pounds, in cash, for the deposit.

How much would Alexander be offering as an initial payment, I wondered. What if I tried? Gave it my best shot for a month?

I bit my lip.

‘Alexander is such a darling,’ mused Granny, as if apropos of nothing. ‘He was all for giving you a separate clothing allowance too, since you’d have to dress up for events and so on, and he doesn’t want to put you to personal expense.’ She looked up. ‘Isn’t that thoughtful?’

I narrowed my eyes. ‘Don’t bother going down that road. You know I make most of my own clothes.’

She smiled beatifically. ‘You’ve got so many talents, darling.’

We went back to the study of our menus.

‘And then there’s the car,’ added Granny without lifting her gaze from the card. ‘You’d have had to have a car and a driver. Wouldn’t that be fun? No having to go mad finding a parking meter outside the shops!’

‘I like my Smart,’ I replied, refusing to rise to the bait. ‘I never have to worry about parking spaces.’

There was another long pause while glasses chinked and cutlery tinkled around us.

‘Did I ever tell you Alexander has the most gorgeous old yacht?’ Granny said conversationally. ‘He’d love to invite both of us out to the Med for a sail . . . What do you think about the quails’ eggs here? Nice, or not?’

‘Granny, it makes no difference!’ I said, finally snapping. ‘I know men like Nicky – they don’t listen to girls like me. They don’t even
see
girls who aren’t thin, blonde and half-dressed. You know I’d love to help, but, honestly, I can’t!’

Her head bounced up but I could see a triumphant sparkle in her Tiffany-blue eyes. ‘Of course you can!’ she exclaimed reproachfully. ‘I’m helping a dear old friend in a very trying time. I’m sure you’d do exactly the same.’ She paused. ‘If it was an old, dear friend of yours.’

‘Hmm,’ I said, trying to maintain my own stern expression. I knew what she was getting at. At least she hadn’t stooped to mentioning Nelson by name, as Daddy would almost certainly have done. And she had a point: if Nelson’s grandson turned out to be a notorious let-down, making Nelson miserable in the process, I’d be itching to sort him out by whatever means possible too.

Granny’s radar must have picked up my weakening because she went in for the kill. ‘You’ve always underestimated yourself, darling,’ she said. ‘And do I need to say that you would have my undying gratitude for ever and ever, amen? I mean,’ she added, as if it had just occurred to her, ‘I did help you out when you needed that money to start up the business in the first place, didn’t I?’

Oh, God. Granny really knew how to twang my heartstrings. And she was right about the loan: if she hadn’t lent me the cash to start up the agency, there wouldn’t be an agency at all.

I turned my attention back to the menu, and let her stew while I chewed it over.

At the end of three minutes I said distantly, ‘I’ll have to ask Jonathan.’

‘Thank you, darling,’ said Granny. ‘Oh, look! Here come the men!’

I looked up and saw Alexander and Nicolas making their way through the restaurant. Each sent little smiles of recognition in different directions, but the smiles were very tight.

Whatever Alexander had said to Nicolas outside, it must have had some effect, because for the remainder of the meal, he was absolutely charming. After a little awkwardness, we worked out a few acquaintances we had in common, as well as some Parisian bars we’d both visited, and when I reminded him about poor Tiggy, the human fondue dipper, only a moment’s concentration showed in his eyes before he laughed and promised to send her some flowers to apologise.

‘That’s a good habit to get into,’ said Alexander approvingly.

I got the impression that if he sent flowers to all the girls he dipped, there wouldn’t be a gerbera to be had in W1, but didn’t say anything.

After coffee, Alexander and Granny left to go on to some other party ‘an old Greek friend’ was throwing in Grosvenor Square.

I saw Alexander turn back anxiously as they were almost out of the door, and the relief on his face when he saw me and Nicolas still chatting politely touched my heart. He’d seemed so moved when he’d talked about his old castle over dinner – the secret passages, the turrets, the magnificent gardens – that I’d found myself wanting to do anything to help him go back.

Maybe I
could
do something for Nicky, I mused. Maybe his arrogance was all show, like some other insecure men I knew who . . .

‘Yeah, I’m still here. Yeah, he’s gone. Taken Camilla with him and left me with the chunky granddaughter.’

My attention snapped back to the table. Nicky was on his mobile, talking in a rich trans-Atlantic drawl that didn’t quite tally with the polite English accent I’d just heard him use over dinner, and when he saw me glaring at him, a lazy smile crossed his face.

I glared at his phone.

‘Yeah, one sec . . . What?’ he demanded.

‘Weren’t we talking a moment ago?’ I asked. ‘If it’s an urgent call, I don’t mind you going outside. But you’re making me feel like an eavesdropper – and I don’t have the slightest interest in your conversation.’

‘I’ll ring you back, darling,’ he said, without taking his eyes off me, and snapped his phone shut. ‘Right,’ he said, straightening his coffee cup and spoon so they were neat, then folding his arms patronisingly. Now he sounded very Kings Road again. ‘Let’s get a few things clear. I don’t want some goody-two-shoes nanny following me round. And I don’t imagine you much want to be forced to have a good time and get drunk and go to interesting parties, either, do you?’

I started to bridle, but he held up a hand and carried on.

‘However, my grandfather, in his desperation to get his mouldy old castle back, has made it pretty plain that failure to comply with the plan he and your grandmother have hatched between them will result in a . . . how can I put it?’ He put a finger on his chin and I longed to slap it away. ‘A certain financial embarrassment for me?’

‘He’ll stop your allowance,’ I interpreted.

‘Exactly.’

‘Well, that won’t be a problem, will it?’ I said, now too annoyed to hold back. ‘Because you’ll have your salary to fall back on . . . Oh,’ I added, with maximum sarcasm, ‘don’t tell me you don’t
have
a job?’