The Prince's Heir

“Lawrence and Alena loved each other very much,” Mandy confirmed quietly. “But of course he couldn’t marry a commoner.” Her voice rose slightly and she spat out the final word.

“Lawrence was the heir to the throne of his country. He had certain duties.”

“I know all about that garbage. Alena told me. And those duties didn’t include making any of his own choices or falling in love, but he did both of those things in spite of his family.”

And look what came of his defying his duty, Stephan thought, but he refrained from saying it. Obviously Mandy Crawford approved of such rebellion.

“And Joshua is the result,” he said instead.

“My son,” she said firmly. “Everything about his adoption is totally legal. When he was born—” She bit her lush lower lip, and a film of moisture sprang to her eyes. To his amazement, Stephan felt a sudden wash of grief as if Mandy’s emotions were so strong they reached from her all the way inside him.

She cleared her throat and continued. “I presume the Taggarts told you that Alena died giving birth to Josh. They were there when she said she wanted me to raise her son. Lawrence was there, too. Of course, the Taggarts didn’t know he was a prince. Alena and I were the only ones who knew that. She told everyone else he was a poet. He was, you know. That’s what he really wanted to do, not go back and spend his life in a fishbowl, doing and feeling only what your rules of royalty permitted him to do and feel.”

“I know all about his hobby of writing poetry. My brother and I were very close.” Stephan studied his clasped hands. Not all that close, evidently. Not close enough for Lawrence to tell him about Alena or Joshua. “He was instructed to keep his identity a secret. The idea was for him to attend your schools and study your culture without anyone realizing who he was. That was the only way he could hope to truly learn things. The poetry was a part of that disguise.”

Mandy shook her head. “The poetry was part of Lawrence, the part that Alena fell in love with. Anyway, orders from the king or whatever had nothing to do with why Lawrence kept his identity secret from Alena’s parents. The Taggarts may live in a million-dollar house in Dallas, excuse me, Highland Park—that’s much more prestigious, you know—but they both grew up right here in Willoughby. They were dirt poor until Alena’s father hit it big wildcatting—”

“Wildcatting?” Stephan had an image of a man fighting with a wildcat. He’d heard some men wrestled alligators in America. Anything was possible over here.

“Oil wells. He made a bundle in oil, then invested it in the computer business. That’s when they really hit it big. They moved to Dallas when Alena was thirteen, and they’ve been trying to break into society ever since. If they’d known Lawrence was a prince, they’d have gone totally bonkers, bragged to the world, conspired to somehow get their daughter married to him, and when she died, they’d have kept Joshua or given him to you. Whichever, neither Alena nor Lawrence wanted that for their son.”

Stephan thought of the rough-cut couple he’d met, of their eager, obsequious attitudes and knew Mandy was right about them.

“Since they didn’t know about Lawrence,” she continued, “Alena’s parents were only too happy to sign the adoption papers giving complete custody to me. It’s all legal.”

“But Lawrence didn’t sign any adoption papers.”

Her jaw tightened. “No. Alena didn’t put his name on the birth certificate. It was something they both agreed on. Neither of them wanted to take any chances that their son would ever be discovered and have to live the way Lawrence had to live.”

Stephan’s mouth went suddenly dry. He reached for the glass of tea and sipped some of it. It didn’t really taste very much like tea, but it was wet and cool. “As the heir to the throne, Lawrence led a life of luxury. He had everything he wanted.”

Mandy’s delicate chin firmed, and white pressure lines appeared around her full lips. “Your brother had everything he wanted except love. He found that when he met Alena, and that’s the gift he wanted to give his son. My family may not have a lot of money. Joshua will never ride to school in a limousine or have a private tutor, but he has one thing neither of his parents ever had...plenty of love.”

For a moment Stephan lost the thread of the conversation as he observed Mandy. What must it be like to experience such passion? Her emotions were completely out of control, swaying with the circum-stances... anger, grief, defiance. It was something he’d been schooled from infancy not to do...and he was totally intrigued.

He drew himself up and drank more of the cool, sweetened tea. “If Joshua truly is Lawrence’s son—”

Mandy shot up from her chair, her eyes blazing green fire, scorching him even from that distance. “If he’s Lawrence’s son? Exactly what is that supposed to mean?”

Again he found himself so fascinated by her passion he was momentarily speechless.

Vera Crawford stood, put a hand on her granddaughter’s shoulder and stretched up to murmur something so low Stephan couldn’t catch all the words.

Mandy nodded—reluctantly, he thought—then sank into her chair, leaned back and faced him defiantly. “If you have any doubts that Joshua is Lawrence’s son, then maybe you’d just better haul your—”

“Mandy,” the older woman interjected in a warning tone.

“Sorry, Nana.” But he could tell she wasn’t at all sorry for what she’d said or whatever she’d been about to say. She spoke the words to placate her grandmother, but continued to glare at him. “Perhaps it would be best if you took the next plane back to your big, cold palace and left us commoners to muddle along the best we can.” Her amended suggestion was delivered in a fairly good imitation of his own speech patterns and he found himself wanting to smile in spite of the insult.

“A simple DNA test will resolve any doubts.”

“I see.” She clasped her hands on the table in front of her, again in imitation of him, and he braced himself for her next jab. She smiled tightly, her eyes still stormy. “You know, it just goes to show how deceptive appearances can be. I’d never have guessed until this very minute that you were dumb as dirt.”

“Mandy,” Vera Crawford cautioned again, though her tone was less stringent this time. She didn’t really disapprove of her granddaughter’s behavior.

“Dumb as dirt?” Stephan repeated.

“That’s the only possible explanation for your assumption that I’d agree to a DNA test that would leave my son open to being shipped off to an island in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean where the people are more frigid than the climate!”

“If Joshua is Lawrence’s son—and I believe he is or I wouldn’t be here,” he added hastily, “he is a prince, a descendant of a long line of kings. He should be permitted to come to his country and learn our customs and laws. One day, when my father steps down from the throne, Joshua will become a king. He’ll be the ruling monarch of an entire country.”

“You know, if Lawrence couldn’t marry Alena because of his duty to his country, it doesn’t seem exactly fair to me that now her son should be forced into princehood.”

He smiled wryly at her na?vetе. “Fair or not, that’s the way it is. The decree dates from 1814.”

She waved a hand. “I know all about King Orwell and that stupid decree, and I don’t care. The man’s been dead almost two hundred years.”

“What decree, Mr. Reynard?” Rita asked.

“King Ormond,” Stephan corrected. “The Decree of Illegitimate Ascension. In the early 1800s King Ormond II produced one son who died in infancy and seven daughters. At his death, his illegitimate son by his acknowledged mistress came forth to claim the throne. Stafford was already popular with the court and the people. He was smart and well liked and he had a lot of good ideas for running the country. Even the queen approved of him, so the precedent was set. If Lawrence had produced a legitimate heir, Joshua would have been bypassed. But Lawrence did not. When my father steps down, Joshua will succeed to the throne. He may choose to abdicate that throne, but he should have the right to make that choice.”

Mandy lifted her glass of tea and took a deep, slow swallow. Her eyes were closed, the long lashes casting a shadow on her porcelain skin. She set the drink down carefully, drew a slim finger through the condensation on the outside of the glass and turned it a couple of times, her attention seemingly focused on the activity. Finally she again clasped her hands and looked up at him, and he saw that she was no longer angry but sad.

“It broke Lawrence’s heart that he wouldn’t be around to see his son grow up. When he put Josh in my arms, he cried.”

She paused as if to let that phenomenon sink in. Stephan wasn’t as shocked as he might have been, as he had been the first time he’d come upon his brother unexpectedly, a few months after his return from America, and found the tears streaming down his cheeks. Now he knew why.

“Your brother had a heart,” she continued. “He cried when Alena died. He cried when he had to leave his son. Joshua has his father’s heart and his mother’s soul. He’s a warm, caring little boy who will grow into a warm, caring man.”

“He’s a prince. He has royal blood in his veins. He belongs to his country.”

“It’s always bothered me a little,” she went on as if he hadn’t spoken, “that Joshua’s family would never get to see him. My brother and his wife are expecting a baby in December, and I can’t wait to see my niece or nephew. I’m almost as excited as they are. If someone told me I’d never get to hold that little baby, never get to see him grow up, I’d be devastated. When I walked in and saw you here, I was terrified that you’d be able to take Josh from me. I was terrified that you’d insist on holding him and you’d fall in love with him immediately and you’d tell me I had no right to keep your nephew from you. Lawrence said you were an all-right guy, so I was worried.”

“Then you agree that the boy should be returned to his family.” Even as he spoke the words, he knew they weren’t true.

She arched an eyebrow. “But you didn’t do any of those things I’d expected and feared. You didn’t show any interest in Joshua because he’s your nephew and a neat little kid. Your only interest is in your stupid country. You have no heart, no emotions. You’re exactly the way Lawrence described the rest of his family. You’re a part of the reason he didn’t want the son he loved to return there and be as lonely and miserable as your family made him.”

She slid her chair back and stood, then leaned over the table and for one wild, heart-pounding moment, he thought she was going to kiss him. Instead she grabbed his tie by the knot and drew him closer. Her face was mere inches from his, and he could see a dusting of golden freckles that her makeup didn’t quite hide across her nose, could feel her breath warm and sweet, but mostly he could see the flames that blazed in her eyes. “You go on back to that country and take over the throne as next in line of succession, produce cold-hearted, unfeeling sons who can carry on the family tradition, but don’t you even think about trying to take Joshua with you or I’ll teach you the meaning of the term Texas wildcat, and I’m not talking about anything to do with oil!”

She released her grip on his tie, whirled around and strode out the back door, slamming it behind her. “Would you like another glass of tea, Mr. Reynard?” Rita asked.

Stephan blinked then suppressed an insane urge to laugh. Her daughter had made an impassioned speech, threatened him with the wrath of a Texas wildcat and left. Even so, Rita Crawford observed the social amenities. Perhaps Texas and Castile weren’t so different after all.

“No, thank you,” he said and rose from the table. “I must be leaving now. I know this has been a big shock for all of you. Here’s the number of the hotel I’m staying at in Dallas. When you’ve had a chance to assimilate everything, please call me there.”

Vera Crawford nodded. “We will, Mr. Reynard.”

Stephan considered setting a time limit for them to call, warning them that if he didn’t hear from them in three days, he’d contact them again.