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He’d lost his job at the university, and he had to be a working royal permanently.
There had been a freak accident that had taken out everyone ahead of him in the line of succession and he was the next king of the United Kingdom and the Commonwealth realms.
She’d been in a fugue state for the past three weeks, but now that she’d had a moment to think clearly, she’d decided she didn’t love him enough to deal with his family.
“Have you seen this?” She handed him her phone.
It was a text from Louisa Collins, who’d once been the senior events coordinator for the royal family during the tribute, but who now worked for Dani as a royal family liaison.
Who else had a girlfriend who needed an intermediary to their family?
He read the message. Julian’s wife, Fiona, was pregnant.
The arm holding the phone dropped to his lap and he sagged back into the plush cushions, a shaky laugh all he could manage.
“Can you believe it?” Dani asked.
Julian was his uncle, the Prince of Wales and the next in line to the throne. After his marriage to Fiona sixteen years ago, it had taken some time, but they had done their duty and produced an heir. The little girl was ten years old and took after Julian in looks, but her mother in temperament. Thankfully. So, this would be the couple’s second child.
“It isn’t an issue of belief. More like surprise. And relief.”
Her brown eyes searched his. “Is some small part of you disappointed?”
The chances of Jameson ascending to the throne were already slim and with every child born to Julian and his aunts, he slipped further back in the line of succession.
He pulled Dani onto his lap and nuzzled her neck. She smelledgoood. One of Mela-Skin’s tropical-scented body butters. “Not in the slightest.”
Dani kissed his cheek. “You’re a good man, Jameson Alastair Richard Lloyd. That’s the very reason youshouldbe king. They don’t deserve you.”
“But you do?”
She snuggled close. “Absolutely.”
His time in the States had been filled with moments like these. Periods of contentment and peace he never thought he’d get the chance to experience. And now that he had, he didn’t want to lose it.
“This is good news for them, right?”
He sighed. “Nothing like a royal baby to garner positive press.”
She looked up at him. “You sound just like the queen.”
Because he knew the articles that would come out when the palace made this announcement. His uncle would be forgiven and granted grace and latitude because royal baby fever would send a blissfully happy country on a spending spree for royal baby-themed paraphernalia.
“I wonder how much she has to do with this?”
Dani shifted to face him. “What would she have to do with it? Does she actually have to be there to put Julian’s dick in—”
“I meant,” he interrupted, giving her a pointed look, “Julian’s extracurricular activities are well-known. He didn’t have a lot of time for Fi and Isabella, leaving them on his country estate whilehe lived in London. They probably would’ve been happy to keep it that way, except for the scandal surrounding Samantha Banks—”
Dani nodded. “And the queen making them come back to pose pretty for the cameras.”
“You know what? It doesn’t matter. If this is what Fi wants, then I’m happy for her. I’m certain the palace is thrilled. They love the idea of the Princess of Wales being pregnant. And it bears repeating, the positive press will be beneficial to Julian.”
“But not so much for Fiona.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because you’re thinking about this like a man. The media will talk in glowing terms about Julian becoming a dad again, but Fiona will be on constant bump watch. If it’s anything like it is here, they’ll take pictures of her, with a focus on her midsection, which is something no woman wants, even if she’s pregnant. They’ll discuss her weight gain and swollen ankles. They’ll critique her choice of maternity clothes. Can’t be too matronly or too sexy. They’ll judge whether she touches her belly too much or not enough.
