The Royal House Of Karedes: Two Kingdoms. Marion Lennox

Aegeus said, frowning.

      “Exactly.” Alex shook his head. “I’ve never understood why there was so much coverage of the Queen of England’s birthday celebration a couple of years ago when it was all so low-key. Have you, Mother?”

      “No,” Tia said with perfect innocence, “I’ve never understood it, either. All those reporters and television people, the worldwide interest in Elizabeth and the British royals… and all of it done, as you say, Alexandros, with such quiet elegance.”

      The king snorted. “What is there to understand? One either knows the virtue of simplicity or one doesn’t.” He looked down at the papers on his desk, studied them for a long moment, then swept them to the floor with his hand. “I have just chosen a theme for your birthday celebration, Tia. The coming of spring. I can envision it now. Masses of early spring flowers. The Venetian dinnerware in shades of palest green and yellow. And you, the queen, dressed in a gown the same pale pink as the diamond in the Aristan crown.”

      Thank you, Tia mouthed to her son. Alex flashed her a grin.

      “That sounds very nice,” she said demurely.

      “Nice? It will be magnificent, especially with you resplendent in the new necklace I’ll commission as your birthday gift. Although we could add a brooch …”

      “No brooch,” the queen said. “It would be inappropriate, Aegeus, to wear both a brooch and a necklace.”

      The king waved his hand. “Whatever. Take it up with the craftsman.”

      “The jewelry designer,” Tia commented. “That’s what she is.”

      She? Alex frowned and thought back to the weekend the final half-dozen jewelry designers, selected from all around the globe, had been invited to Aristo to meet with his parents. Had there been another woman in the group? He only recalled one.

      But then, he thought grimly, that had been the plan, hadn’t it? That the prince who might influence the choice of designer should have been so bewitched he would notice only one?

      Besides, what did his father mean by talking about the necklace he would commission? The commission had been made weeks before.

      “—don’t you agree, Alexandros?”

      Alex looked at his father. “Sorry, Father. I missed that.”

      “I said, it doesn’t matter what this woman is called. Designer, artisan, craftsman—craftswoman,” the king amended, with a nod to his wife. “She simply must understand the importance of this commission… And why are all the rest of you still hanging about?” Aegeus clapped his hands and the seamstress, aides and ladies-in-waiting scurried from the room. “She must understand that, Tia. That is a given.”

      The queen nodded. “I am certain that she will.”

      “I hope you’re right. She seemed very young to me.”

      Things were becoming more confusing. His parents were definitely referring to a woman designer. A young designer… Alex stiffened.

      No. They couldn’t be talking about her. About Maria Santos and, yes, he damned well did remember her name. How could he not? A man who was marked to be the gullible victim of a scam didn’t forget the person who’d been the scammer.

      “She couldn’t have seemed anything to you, Aegeus,” Tia said, with a little smile. “Remember? We never had the pleasure of meeting her. She sent us a note and explained she’d been taken ill that morning. But, of course, we already had seen Miss Santos’s sketches, and—”

      A fist seemed to clench Alex’s gut. He took a deep breath and forced himself to speak calmly. “Maria Santos? But you said the commission went to a French company.”

      “It did, but they just notified us that the owner passed away and left the firm tied up in all kinds of unpleasant litigation.” Tia took Alex’s arm. “I know. It’s all very last minute, and Miss Santos doesn’t even know that we’re going to ask her to implement her design.”

      “That’s why your trip to New York has such urgency, Alexandros.”

      Alex stared at his father. “What trip to New York?”

      “You will see the Santos woman and inform her of our decision.”

      “What your father means,” Queen Tia said, “is that you’ll explain what’s happened and ask Miss Santos if she will be generous enough to take on the job at such short notice.”

      Another snort from the king. “She’ll leap at the chance.”

      “But she might not,” the queen said softly. “This is very last minute. And true artists have tender egos. Miss Santos may not like thinking of herself as second choice.”

      Alex wanted to laugh. A tender ego? He’d bet Maria Santos had an ego that could dent cast iron.

      “You’re the diplomat in the family,” the king said briskly. “All that talking and contracting with the businesses you’ve lured to our island over the years …”

      It was as close to a compliment as his father had ever offered but it wasn’t enough to make Alex go to Maria Santos and present her with the chance of a lifetime.

      “I would be happy to help,” Alex said briskly, “but I have pressing commitments here on the island. Surely someone else can—”

      “Someone else cannot,” Aegeus retorted. “You have offices and an apartment in New York. You know the city. You know its tempo, its attitude. You’ll be better able to work with the Santos woman and ensure the necklace is ready in time.”

      So much for compliments. This was a royal command. That the woman who’d wanted this job badly enough to damned near sell herself to secure it would now get it by default, that he would be the man who’d have to offer it to her, was almost too ironic to believe.

      “There were other designs submitted,” he said. “Surely one of them would do?”

      His mother’s small hand tightened on his arm. “I preferred Miss Santos’s work from the beginning, Alex. I deferred to your father when he selected the French firm, of course, but now …”

      Alex looked at the queen as her words trailed away. He knew it would take little for his father to tell her he had decided on a different designer. Tia was as restrained as Aegeus was quick-tempered, as gentle as the king was stern. He’d always had the feeling his mother’s life was not quite the life she had hoped for.

      Growing up, he’d spent little time at her side. Boarding school, tutors, the expected rigor of life as a king’s son had seen to that, but he loved her deeply none the less. And if a birthday gift designed by Maria Santos was what she wanted…

      “Alexandros?” Tia said softly. “Do you think I’m making a mistake?”

      Alex put his arm around his mother’s shoulders and hugged her.

      “What I think is that you should have precisely what you want on your birthday.”

      His mother beamed. “Thank you.”

      “Thank me, you mean,” the king said briskly, and gave his wife what passed for a loving smile. “I’m the one commissioning your gift.”

      The queen laughed. She rose on her toes and kissed her son’s cheek, then reached for her husband’s hand.

      “Thank you both,” she said. “How’s that?”

      “It’s fine,” Alex replied.

      And that was what he kept telling himself, that it would be fine, during the seemingly endless flight all the way from Aristo to New York.

       CHAPTER TWO