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The rooms that had been his growing up couldn’t feel any less familiar than if he’d never seen them before. The past ten years of his life, first living in Boston, then California, felt much more real to him than the first twenty-two being Sherdana’s prince. But that had been the case before he’d found out Brooke was pregnant. If he put aside duty and engaged in an honest conversation with himself, he’d accept that he no longer felt connected to his birth country. Yet his failure in the Mojave Desert meant that California was no longer a welcoming destination, either.
Never had he felt so conflicted about his future path. No matter what direction he chose, he was destined to leave disappointment and regret in his wake. Staying in Sherdana and marrying a suitable bride would require him to give up the woman he loved and abandon his child. But if he chose to make a life with Brooke could he convince her that he would never regret turning his back on his country when he knew it would always haunt him? And what would he do in California without the Griffin to work on? Teach at a university? He frowned.
When an hour of self-reflection passed without a clear solution presenting itself, Nic left his suite and sought his mother. He found her and his father in the king’s private office deep in discussion.
“Well?” the king demanded, his eyes reflecting disappointment. He was seated behind a large mahogany desk that had been a gift from the king of Spain back in the early eighteenth century. “Is Dr. Davis pregnant?”
“Yes.” Nic refused to feel like a chastised teenager. “And the child is mine.” This last he directed to his mother, who sat on one of the burgundy sofas in the office’s sitting area.
She was in the process of pouring a cup of tea and sent a pained look to her husband. “It seems as if none of my grandchildren are going to be legitimate.”
“I won’t apologize for what happened,” he told his parents. “And I won’t shirk my responsibility to Brooke.”
“What does that mean?” his father said, his deep voice charged with warning.
“I don’t have all the details worked out yet.”
“You’re not planning to marry her.”
“It would take both of us to be on board for that to happen and at this point she’s determined to return to California alone.”
“You must let her,” his mother said. “We will make sure she and the child are well taken of, but news of this must not get out. You need to marry and produce children that can one day succeed Gabriel.”
The press of duty had never felt more overwhelming. Nic wanted to struggle free of the smothering net of responsibility that his parents cast over him.
“And what about Christian?” Nic asked, his heart burning with bitterness. “Will he not be expected to do the same?”
“Of course.” The king nodded. “We are calling on both of you.”
And with that, Nic accepted that one decision had been made for him.
* * *
Embarrassment and remorse kept Brooke from venturing out of her room the rest of the day. She put her pajamas back on, pulled the curtains closed and huddled in bed. A maid brought her lunch, which she barely touched, and when Ariana poked her head in the room sometime in the late afternoon, Brooke pretended to be sleeping.
She couldn’t hide like this forever. For one thing it wasn’t her style to avoid problems, and she really wouldn’t shake the despair gnawing at her until she apologized to the queen for her outburst.
Around five she roused and phoned Theresa, needing to pour her heart out to someone who was 100 percent on her side. Unfortunately, the call rolled to voice mail and Brooke hung up without leaving a message. This was her problem to solve and the sooner she faced the music, the better.
A maid came by around six and found Brooke dressed in her tribal print maxi dress and sandals. Wearing her own clothes was like wrapping herself in a little piece of home. She didn’t fit into Nic’s world and trying to appear as if she did had been silly. Better to face the queen’s displeasure as her authentic self, a woman who knew her own mind and was determined to do what was best for her and for Nic.
“Princess Olivia sent me to ask if you felt well enough to have dinner with her in half an hour,” the maid said.
“Tell her yes.”
When Brooke entered Prince Gabriel and Princess
Olivia’s private suite thirty minutes later, she wasn’t surprised to discover Olivia had heard all about the morning’s events. Up until now the princess had seemed like an ally, but would that continue? Brooke regarded Olivia warily as the princess indicated a spot on the gold couch. Brooke sat down while Olivia poured a cup of something that smelled like peppermint from a silver tea set.
