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***
Caitlyn simply couldn’t find the words. She’d tried several times to explain to Emrys that they were expecting a child, but each time she felt her heart in her throat, and something stopped her. She knew that their relationship was on more precarious ground than it had ever been. What would happen to them with the stress of a baby?
She could just take care of the problem herself, but she didn’t want to do that behind his back. Secrets had never been good for them, and if she were honest, she didn’t know if she could take a child away from Emrys, no matter how he’d hurt her in the past. Besides, if she didn’t have this child now, she would probably regret it when her unpredictable fertility made it impossible. And she did want children, if it was an option.
Still, they’d never talked about children or their future together, unless Emrys’s ridiculous “trial engagement” week counted. Caitlyn wasn’t even
certain, in spite of the paparazzi’s certainty of her status as both the fiancée and the mistress, whether she even counted as his girlfriend. Behind his ruse, everything they had seemed to be an extended fling.
And now it was turning into a long-distance fling while Caitlyn tried to decide what to do with this baby.
They said a tearful (on her part) goodbye at the jet, since he would be traveling in another direction, and when she arrived at the palace, Imelda was there to greet her.
“We’ve put to rest the rumors,” Imelda said after their perfunctory greetings. “The media is always a problem. They’re always looking for something sensational, even when it’s quite the opposite. You’d think that the prince’s sudden engagement would turn them on, but it’s not scandalous enough, I suppose.”
“They had to have known, though, right?” Caitlyn walked with her arms crossed over her. Somehow, Imelda seemed to be the kind of person who might look right through you. Plus, she’d had four children herself. She had to know the signs. “They had pictures of me here in Cabeau and in Greece. The first paper to leak the story must have known they were making it up.”
“I don’t know whether they did or not. I doubt they care, as long as it sells, and in the global scheme of things, it’s unlikely that certain countries think too hard on what the royal family of Cabeau is up to. Emrys only gets their attention because of his career.” Imelda took Caitlyn’s arm, obliging her to unfold them and walk with a straight back. “I expect now they’ll do some digging on you and try to publish an exclusive. I hope you don’t have any skeletons in your closet.”
“My closets back home are too small for my wardrobe. I couldn’t fit anything else in them.”
Imelda stared at her blankly.
“There might be some pictures of me in clubs where I’ve traveled, but I haven’t exactly led a life of debauchery. I’m a web designer. We spend a lot of our lives indoors.”
“That is good. They always have enough on Emrys. No need to give them more. In fact, if your background is that clean, it will probably encourage Father to give you his blessing to marry sooner.”
Caitlyn’s chest tightened. “How long do you think he’ll take to decide?”
Imelda shook her head. “I couldn’t guess. But I don’t think he’ll refuse you. At this point, marrying Emrys off to anyone of the female sex would be a beneficial end to this war between them.”
“That’s…nice.”
“Don’t get me wrong. You’ve no connections to speak of, and we’ll have our hands full training you in the next few weeks, but Mother and Father are really just eager to get him settled already. He’s been so much better behaved since you’ve been in the picture.” Imelda led them into a sitting room where tea had already been laid out. “I think perhaps they are both a bit put out that you are such a civilizing influence on him. After all, they could have had this tamed version of Emrys for years if they hadn’t tried to marry him to Miranda.” She gestured for Caitlyn to sit. “Of course, the king does not make mistakes, you understand.”
“I, uh, right.” Caitlyn considered trying to get Imelda to let her retire to her rooms. She was tired and a little nauseous from the flight still, but Imelda wasn’t asking, really.
Once she was in her chair, Imelda lifted her chin, straightened her back, and motioned for Caitlyn to sit up straight as well.
“When you are in company, you must not slouch or fidget. You should assume that every eye is upon you, waiting for you to make a mistake,” Imelda instructed.
“Well, they are, aren’t they?” Caitlyn sat up straight, self-consciously trying to suck in her stomach a little, although the empire waists she was fond of tended to hide the bit of softness she’d gained during the vacation.
“Yes,” Imelda said seriously.
A pair of servants entered the moment she rang a little bell. One of them poured tea for each of them, and the other servant placed a few pastries on their plates with silver tongs. Caitlyn stared at the food. She was incredibly hungry, but she looked to Imelda to lead. This was obviously part of the “training” she was expected to complete.
Imelda gave her an approving nod. The way Imelda held the cup, how she gave a delicate sip, how she took small bites and dabbed the corners of her mouth—each move was calculated. Caitlyn tried to mimic her, but her sips were too loud and her bites too large. She got sticky glaze on the corner of her mouth, and Imelda gestured empathically to her napkin.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Just try again. You don’t have to be perfect, just not embarrassing.”
Was she embarrassing? It had never occurred to Caitlyn before that Emrys might have any opinion about the ways of moving and eating that came most natural to her. Was that one of the reasons he didn’t want her on set? Had she embarrassed him in France, here, and finally in Greece? She knew she had embarrassed him at the jazz club in New York…but it wasn’t as though Emrys was any authority on what was appropriate. Plus, he could be kind of a snob, when he was in a mood.
When she was finally allowed to go back to her rooms, Caitlyn was drooping a little. Though she was full. A benefit of lessons in decorum.
***
