Crowned: An Ordinary Girl

Her feet slowed because they had no choice. London traffic blocked her way and the coffee shop she wanted was on the other side of the road.

And why was she running anyway? Experience had taught her that there was nowhere to go that would stop the pain from jogging alongside. More slowly she crossed the road, dodging between the stationary taxis that were banked up at the junction.

Coffee. That was all she wanted right now. Coffee and a moment to gather herself together. She smiled grimly. Just enough time to place the mask firmly back in place.

Seb let out his breath in one slow, steady stream, resisting the temptation to swear long and hard, as he watched Marianne walk away.

That could have gone better. It had been a long, long time since anyone had made him look, or feel, quite so foolish. How many sentences had he managed to complete at the end there? Two? Maybe three?

For a man who was famed for his ability to say the right thing in any social situation, that was unprecedented. As unprecedented as it was for anyone to speak to him without the due deference his position demanded. Thank heaven the foyer was deserted of everyone but his own people.

Seb looked over his shoulder at his two bodyguards. ‘How much of that did you hear?’

He saw Karl’s lips twitch. In any other man the expression would have counted as impassive, but in Karl it was laughter.

Seb ran an exasperated hand through his closely cropped dark hair. ‘Try and forget it,’ he said, walking past them and further into the narrow reception area.

It was an unnecessary instruction. Karl and Georg would never divulge anything about his personal life—not to the Press, not even to other members of their team. He’d do better to direct that selfsame instruction at himself—try and forget it. Concentrate on what had brought him here.

But forget her?

He pulled a wry smile. Now, that was easier said than done. If merely reading the name Marianne Chambers in print had pulled him up short, it was nothing compared to how it had felt to actually see her.

Until that moment he hadn’t truly believed Professor Blackwell’s protégée would turn out to be the language student he’d met in France—but she’d been instantly recognisable. Casually dressed in blue jeans and white T-shirt she’d reminded him so much of the eighteen-year-old he’d known. He could never have expected that.

And she’d been reading. Something had snapped inside him when he’d seen the flash of white as she’d flicked over the page. She’d always been reading. Anything and everything. Even that first time—when Nick had tried so hard to stop him going to speak to her.

It was the only excuse he’d had for approaching her. If there’d been anyone within earshot…Seb pulled a hand through his hair. God only knew what the headlines would have looked like then.

‘Your Serene Highness—’

Seb turned to see an agitated man scurrying towards him across the acres of rather dated carpet in the company of his private secretary.

‘—we’d no idea you’d arrived yet. I’d intended to have someone on watch for you and—’

‘It’s of no consequence. Mr…?’

‘Baverstock. Anthony Baverstock. I’m the manager here, Your Serene Highness.’

‘Baverstock,’ Seb repeated, extending his hand. ‘I sincerely appreciate the thought.’ He watched the pleased way Anthony Baverstock puffed out his cheeks and resigned himself to what experience had taught him would follow.

‘N-not at all, Your Serene Highness. At the Cowper Hotel we pride ourselves on our service. Professor Blackwell,’ the hotel manager continued with every indication that he would bore his friends and neighbours with his account of meeting royalty for the next thirty years, ‘is in the Balcony Room. If, Your Serene Highness, would be so good as to follow me…’

Seb let his mind wander even while his mouth said everything that his late father would have wished. How many times had that amazing man cautioned him to remember that people who met him would remember the occasion as long as they lived?

It was true, too. The letters of condolence his mother had received had been testament to that. More than several hundred had begun with ‘I met Prince Franz-Josef and he shook me by the hand…’

Even eight years and as many months into his own tenure that responsibility still sat uncomfortably with him. But training was everything—and this had been his destiny since the hour of his birth. Inescapable. Even though there’d been times when he’d have gladly passed the responsibility to someone else.

Viktoria, for example. His elder sister had always found her role in this colourful pageant easier to play. She loved the pomp and the sense of tradition. It suited her—and she was as comfortable with it as it chafed him.

The Balcony Room on the first floor was clearly labelled. A black plaque with gold lettering hung on the door. Seb stood back and allowed the hotel manager to announce portentously, ‘His Serene Highness, the Prince of Andovaria.’

Inside, the man he’d come to see was on his feet immediately. ‘Your Serene Highness…’

Seb extended his hand as he walked into the room. ‘Professor Blackwell, I’m delighted you could spare me a moment of your time. I realise this is a busy time for you.’

The older man shook his head, a twinkle of pure enthusiasm lighting the eyes behind his glasses. ‘Completely enjoyable. This conference is one of the highlights of my year.’

‘May I introduce my private secretary, Alois von Dietrich? I believe you’ve spoken.’

The professor nodded. ‘Please, come and sit down,’ he said, indicating a group of four armchairs by the window, ‘but I meant what I said yesterday. I’m retiring at the end of the month.’

Seb smiled. ‘I’m here in person to tempt you away from that decision.’

‘Don’t believe I’m not tempted,’ the professor said with a shake of his head, and his tone was so wistful that Seb was confident of success. ‘The twelfth and thirteenth centuries are my particular passion. My wife would have it it’s an unhealthy obsession.’

‘Which is exactly why I want you to come to Andovaria.’

Marianne sat down in the nearest armchair and tucked her hair behind her ears in the nervous gesture she’d had since childhood.

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

Professor Blackwell shook his head. ‘I’ve scarcely had a chance,’ he said, sitting opposite her, teacup in hand. ‘I spoke to one of his aides late yesterday afternoon and Prince Sebastian in person this morning.

She frowned. ‘And you’re considering it? Going to Andovaria?’

‘Who wouldn’t?’ The professor picked up the shortbread biscuit resting in his saucer. ‘I know what you’re thinking, Marianne, and you’re right. Of course you’re right. But it’s the chance of a lifetime. If the prince’s description is accurate, and there’s no reason to suppose it isn’t, there’s not been anything like it in decades.’

Marianne sat in silence, more than a little shell-shocked, while the professor drank the last of his tea.

‘Imagine for a moment what we might find there,’ he said, standing up and putting his cup and saucer back on the table.

‘You’re weeks from retiring,’ she said softly. ‘You did tell him that, didn’t you?’

‘Eliana will understand—’

‘She won’t, Peter. You and I both know that if your wife had had her way you’d be retired now.’

The professor sat down again and leant forward to take hold of her hands. ‘This is the “big” one, Marianne. I’ve waited my whole life for something like this.’

His earnest, lined face shone with the absolute certainty she’d understand, and the tragedy was, she did. Marianne understood absolutely how much he’d want this—and how completely impossible it was for him to take it.

‘Have you told him about your eyesight?’ she asked gently.

The professor let go of her hands and sat back in his seat.

She hated to do this to him, hated it particularly because he was the most wonderful, brilliant and caring man she’d ever met, but it was an impossible dream. He had to know that—deep down. ‘You can’t see well enough to do this justice and, if it’s as significant as you think it is, you ought to pass it on to another expert. I can think of upward of a dozen who are eminently qualified, half a dozen I’d be happy with.’