Crowned: An Ordinary Girl. Natasha Oakley
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professor’s family before France. She’d lived with her parents in a village in…Suffolk.
‘Eliana and Peter are close family friends of my father’s sister.’
Ah. Seb’s eyes flicked across to the professor, still firmly engrossed in his conversation on the finer points of twelfth-century sword design. ‘And is that why you chose to study history?’
Again her soft brown eyes turned on him with a startled expression. She gave the slightest of smiles. ‘His enthusiasm is infectious.’
No doubt that was true, but Seb felt that her answer was only half the story. Ten years ago she’d had ambitions to write plays that would rival Shakespeare. She’d set herself the goal of reading her way through the entire works of Chekhov and Ibsen by the time she started university. So, what had changed?
‘I imagine it is. Professor Blackwell’s reputation is second to none.’ Seb paused while the butler placed the beautifully presented foie gras and wild-mushroom bourdin in front of him. ‘That’s why my sister is adamant I must persuade him to come to Andovaria.’
‘Your sister?’
‘Viktoria. My eldest sister. The Princess Elizabeth Museum is in my grandmother’s memory and Vik’s pet project.’
Marianne’s mind felt as if it was spluttering. ‘Vik’ would be Her Serene Highness, Princess Viktoria? Tall, elegant, married to some equally tall and well-connected title with two young sons?
She looked down at the heavily starched tablecloth, bedecked with more cutlery choices than she’d ever faced in her life, and tried to focus on what had brought her here. ‘But if much of what you have beneath the palace is connected with the Teutonic knights, then surely Professor Adler would be the obvious choice?’
Seb picked up his wine glass and took a sip. ‘That’s true, but we believe only a small part of what we have would be of particular interest to Professor Adler.’
The first course gave way to the second. And after the breast of guinea-fowl with asparagus and bacon came the third, an artistic arrangement of dark chocolate with a praline ice cream.
Marianne took a tiny spoonful of the ice cream. Somehow Seb managed to make it sound so reasonable that the professor should go to Andovaria and, if it weren’t for his eyesight, he was the perfect choice.
Her eyes flicked to the animated, kindly face of the professor opposite. Excitement was practically radiating from him. It was a tangible thing.
He wouldn’t be able to resist this opportunity. Marianne knew it with complete certainty. A lifetime devoted to uncovering the secrets of the past couldn’t be pushed to one side easily.
And she couldn’t, wouldn’t, leave him to flounder alone. As much as she hated the thought of going to Andovaria, she loved Peter and Eliana more. She owed them something for what they’d done for her.
More than something. Marianne took a sip of water. They’d taken her in, pregnant and scared, when her own mother had not. She owed them everything. She took another mouthful of ice cream and let her eyes wander to Seb’s handsome profile. Supremely confident, charismatic and charming. He really had no idea of the fate he’d left her to.
What would Seb say if he knew he’d left her expecting their baby?
Had he ever thought to wonder what had happened to her? Or had he really returned to Andovaria and his royal responsibilities without sparing her a moment’s consideration?
What kind of conversation would they be having now if little Jessica had lived?
In many ways nature had known best. It hurt her to think it, but at eighteen she’d been hopelessly ill-prepared to take on the responsibility of a child. The logical part of her brain accepted that, even while her heart probably never would. Eliana had spent hours talking her through…everything. Patiently helping her manage emotions she’d not had the life skills to even begin to deal with.
First, there’d been the pregnancy itself and her mother’s inability to cope with her ‘perfect’ daughter’s fall from grace.
And then the stillbirth. The heartbreaking scan. The long hours of labour which had resulted in a perfectly formed baby girl—born asleep, as the euphemism went.
Marianne covertly studied His Serene Highness Prince Sebastian II. Their baby. She and Seb had created a little girl—and he didn’t even know.
She reached out for her water glass and took a sip, carefully placing it back down on the table. Eliana believed all men had the right to know if they were about to become a father…
Sometimes she wondered…if Jessica had lived long enough to be born safely, whether she’d ever have told him. At eighteen she’d been adamant he’d never know, but that had been her hurt talking. The first photographs of the about-to-be-enthroned Prince of Andovaria with his dark-haired fiancée had been cataclysmic. Like a switch flicking inside her—love to hate in a moment.
She sat back in her chair. But…eventually she might have told him. Perhaps. When Jessica had grown old enough to decide whether she wanted the poisoned chalice of being universally known as the illegitimate daughter of a European prince—with a mother he’d not considered worth marrying.
It was an academic question. There’d been no baby past the seventh month of her pregnancy. Marianne could feel the pain now, shooting through her—as it always did whenever she was reminded of Jessica. The sense of failure. And the emptiness that pervaded everything—and had done for practically her entire adult life.
She watched as Seb reached for his wine glass. He’d no idea. No understanding of how comprehensively he’d wrecked her life. And how she’d never forgive him.
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