office isn’t large enough for me to move very far away,” she pointed out in an attempt to add a little levity.
But Luc wasn’t buying her act for one second. Giving her a dark look, he said, “Don’t you dare start acting differently now that you know about me being…” He paused and sliced the air with his hand instead of continuing.
“King,” Juliet said. “The word you are searching for is king. And you can’t expect me to act as if nothing has happened.”
“I expect you to continue to be my friend as you’ve been since I arrived at the palace three years ago.”
“I will always be your friend, Luc, but this is bound to change things between us.”
“Not if we don’t let it. And I refuse to let it,” he stated. “You must promise to do the same.”
She shook her head. “I don’t think I can promise that.”
“Why not?”
“Because you being the king changes everything. Some things we have no control over.”
“The one thing I plan on doing with this situation is maintaining control,” Luc stated firmly.
“Some things are beyond our control,” she repeated with soft sadness.
Some things…like falling in love with a man who would be king.
“So Luc, I hope the fact that you called this special meeting means you have some good news to report to us,” Prime Minister René Davoine said with his customary dignity. Slim and blessed with plenty of pewter-gray hair and a mustache to match, he was the picture of a distinguished statesman. Dressed in a two-piece dark suit as always, he appeared more somber than he actually was.
“I have news, but I’m not certain how good it is,” Luc replied.
“Don’t mutter, Luc,” Dowager Queen Simone instructed him tartly.
Standing before the two of them made him feel like a bug under a microscope. As for the dowager queen, he’d never met anyone quite like her.
Thin and regal, she possessed a presence that filled the room—and considering they were in the huge Throne Room, that was no small feat. At age seventy-five, she had her short dark hair meticulously maintained so that not one hint of gray or white showed.
Aside from her attitude, her eyes were the most memorable thing about her. They were a piercing blue, not as dark as his own, more the color of a light sabre. They certainly had a way of slicing right through a person who irritated her, which he’d apparently just done.
Queen Celeste had tried to convince anyone who would listen that Dowager Queen Simone was “dotty.” And, while the older monarch had forgotten some details of the events that surrounded her son’s early marriage, there was no denying that in most cases the dowager queen was still as sharp as a tack.
She was eyeing him with honed intensity. “Those English schools taught you how to enunciate properly.”
“I could speak in French or German or Italian, if you prefer, ma’am,” Luc retorted.
She waved his words away with an imperious wave of her wrinkled but still elegant hand. On her left hand was the elaborate diamond ring that her husband, King Antoine, had given her upon their engagement over fifty years ago. She’d outlived both her husband and her only son due not only to her strong constitution but also to her iron will. “English will suffice.”
“Please be seated, Luc,” the prime minister said with a much more inviting wave of his hand.
Luc sat on the Louis XIV chair as if it might collapse beneath him. This sudden attack of nerves was so unlike him. He’d been dealing with the prime minister and the dowager queen for months without any problem. But that had been when he’d been an employee, when he’d been head of the country’s Security Force. It was a job he enjoyed, a job he knew how to do, a job he was very good at.
Damn. He should have asked Juliet to come with him when she’d offered. She’d know what to say. While she was shy around large groups of strangers, she had a way of disarming people with her quiet smile and sincere empathy.
“Well, Luc?” The prime minister looked at him encouragingly. “Have you found the missing heir?”
“I believe so, yes.”
“You believe so?” Simone said. “You mean there is some room for doubt?”
“No. I found the birth certificate for Katie Graham’s child, a son.”
“A son.” The prime minister almost applauded with delight. “Have you located him?”
“Yes.”
“I told you Luc would succeed,” the prime minister said.
“What is this son like? Is he someone suitable? He’s not living in some American trailer park, is he?” Dowager Queen Simone demanded. “Someone who would be a disgrace to the throne and the de Bergeron name?”
“I don’t believe he’d be a disgrace, no,” Luc replied. “Naturally he’s somewhat stunned with the news.”
The dowager queen leaned forward eagerly, her thin hands resting on her gold-filigree-topped cane. “Where is he?”
“You’re looking at him.”
She blinked her laser eyes at him. “I don’t understand.”
“Katie Graham was my mother.”
Luc could relate to the look of astonishment on the prime minister’s face. He’d felt that way himself when he’d first heard the news. He still felt that way.
The dowager queen’s expression was harder to read.
“If you knew Katie Graham was your mother, then why on earth did you spend the past few months searching for her son?” the prime minister asked.
“I knew my mother as Katherine Dumont,” Luc replied. “I had no idea about her…colorful past. It was only as I began the investigation that I started putting the pieces together. Even then, I didn’t believe it could really be true. When I went to my father—the man I believed to be my father—and confronted him, he gave me the key to a safe deposit box that my mother had requested I open should I ever question my heritage. It’s all here.” He opened the manilla envelope he’d brought with him. “The entire paper trail—wedding certificate, my real birth certificate, not the one my mother had Albert Dumont falsify.”
“Falsified birth certificates seem to have reached epidemic proportions around here lately,” Simone noted tartly.
Luc flinched.
“Not that we’re accusing you of any such behavior,” the prime minister hurriedly assured him.
“I can understand your skepticism,” Luc said. “I considered not sharing this information with you at all, just pretending I never found it.”
“Why
