royal duty?” Although Catherine worked hard to restrain the sharpness in her voice, she knew she’d failed.
Her sister clenched her hands into tight, white fists. “You are so selfish.” With tears streaming openly down her pale cheeks, Yvonne raced from the room.
Catherine watched her sister disappear through the doorway of her father’s office, her chest growing heavy with dread and guilt. The walls were covered, floor to ceiling, with oak panels that had darkened over time, and right now they seemed to close in on her as she turned to face her father.
“Your actions are affecting everyone around you, Catherine.” Anger emanated from him in simmering waves. “You are duty bound to do as I bid.”
Trepidation overrode all emotion in her. She’d never heard him speak like this before. He’d pleaded and cajoled and threatened, but there had always been something—some unspoken expression or tone—that had left her feeling there was a way out. But that unspoken something wasn’t present at the moment, and that scared her.
“Étienne is ready to arrive at any time. All I have to do is call him.”
“Father, no!”
“He is the one, Catherine,” he pressed. “There will be a wedding. A grand affair. It will be your day to shine.”
“This is the new millennium.” She threw her arms wide. “No one arranges marriages anymore. That idea went out with catapults and chastity belts.”
“I’ve spoken to Étienne on your behalf,” he continued smoothly. “When he arrives, he’ll expect to spend plenty of time with you during his visit. Your engagement will be announced soon after his visit.”
Panic flared inside her like white-hot flames. She wanted to rant and rave, but knew it would do no good, so she pressed her lips together to hold in the churning emotion. Her father’s mind was made up, that much was all too clear. He’d even gone behind her back and set his plan into motion. Her dismal future would begin with one phone call.
He went silent waiting for her to respond. She would not agree with his plan. She refused to give him that satisfaction.
“May I go now?” she asked.
He gave a single nod. “Just so long as we understand each other. Duty calls, Catherine. Duty calls. And you, my dear, shall answer.”
She wanted to leave. She wanted to run. But she couldn’t get her feet to move. The whole world felt as if it were collapsing in on her. What was wrong with her? Yvonne couldn’t wait to get married. Couldn’t wait to produce a gaggle of royal babies. She didn’t need love, it seemed. In fact, Yvonne had been quite happy with the man their father had chosen for her.
So why was she so resistant?
Catherine dashed away the hot tear of frustration. She didn’t know why she continued to be defiant. She just felt she had to. And no amount of kingly commands was going to change that.
What she’d like to do was just run away. Go somewhere fun and exciting. Crawl out from under the burdensome von Husden name and all the royal responsibilities that went along with it and enjoy a little purely naughty fun.
But that was impossible.
Duty calls, Catherine. Her father’s chilly reminder caused a shiver to course across every inch of her skin. And you, my dear, shall answer.
Her jaw firmed, and she wanted to mutter, “Duty be damned.” But she held her tongue.
“Is there anything else?” Her father asked, looking up from the paperwork he’d been reviewing.
“I need some time,” she blurted.
“I thought we had already concluded that your time had run out.”
“Please, Father.” She stopped. Swallowed. Took a deep breath. Allowing panic to overwhelm her would be a mistake. She had to make a rational argument. She tried again, “Father, I need some time to get used to the idea of…” She refused to voice the phrase marrying Étienne, so instead, she said, “the idea that my life will soon be changing. You’re asking a lot of me—”
“I’m asking no more of you than I am of your sister.”
“I need some time,” she repeated. Alarm began to erode her self-control. She had to say something that would make him agree to give her what she needed. “I’m not asking for the world here. Just two weeks.” Then an idea came to her out of the blue and she exclaimed, “To buy a trousseau!”
The straight line that had been his mouth softened.
“It wouldn’t look very good if I didn’t have all the things I needed to begin—”
“Two weeks, you say?”
“Yes,” she told him, relief flooding her.
Prince Wilhelm sighed. “You’ll take your sister along?”
Risking more disapproval, Cat shook her head slowly. “Yvonne is very upset with me. I doubt she’d be very much help.”
He glanced down at the papers on his desk. “Well, you can’t very well go alone.”
“I’m not a child. I want to go alone. There’s no reason why I shouldn’t. I’ll go as Catherine Houston.”
When each of his children had turned twenty-one, Prince Wilhelm gifted them with a credit card and bank account under an assumed name. Traveling incognito was the perfect way to deflect the barrage of reporters whenever they took mini holidays or went shopping on Oxford Street in London. When your family owned the bank that backed the credit card—when your family owned the whole darned country—you could pretty much do whatever you wanted.
Her father sat down in his overstuffed leather chair. “Where will you go?”
Anxiety had her tossing up her hands. “I don’t know. I haven’t decided.”
“But—”
“This will be the last trip I take as a single woman,” she said, a terrible sinking feeling twittering her stomach. “Would you please just give me a little space?”
For a long moment, he stared. And finally he murmured, “You may have two weeks. Two.”
One
I f the monotony of this job didn’t kill him, Dr. Riley Jacobs thought, then the paint fumes would. Taking over the running of Portland General Hospital’s new Healthy Living Clinic hadn’t been where he’d expected to put his extensive ER training into practice; however, the position had turned out to be a necessary rung on the ladder to where he wanted to go—and he had every intention of reaching his ultimate goal.
Riley thought of himself as a late bloomer, being thirty years old and having just completed his residency at Portland General Hospital. However, he’d received rave reviews from the ER chief of staff, and he’d truly expected a job offer. But instead Riley had been asked by the head honcho, himself—the hospital director—if he would become acting director of the Healthy Living Clinic. It seemed that things had gone
