Hand-Me-Down Princess (12 page)

“Tell me the truth, Lizbeth. Did you really think we’d end up together?”

She didn’t look up. “The thought crossed my mind, but we never talked about it. I didn’t
expect
anything.”

Something about what she said and the way she said it struck him as odd. “Do you expect something from me now?”

“Not particularly, though everyone knows what wedding vows mean to the men in your family. I’d expect you to be different, and I wouldn’t be willing to settle for being the mistress, anyway.”

She really thought he’d want her for a mistress? “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t ask you to be. I wouldn’t ask any woman to be. I have no intention of breaking my wedding vows.”

Lizbeth chuckled. “I heard your wedding vows. You didn’t promise much of anything.”

He glared at her. “I made my own vows to Jessabelle later. The ones at the church were ridiculous.”

“Isn’t that sweet? Privately promise to be faithful, but no public declaration of the same? I’d be
so glad
if I were your wife.” The sarcasm was one more reason why she never would have been his wife. He couldn’t stand it. Not like she dished out.

“Then it’s a good thing you’re not.” How was Jessabelle doing? Would they ask her to give his speech? Would she be able to?

And where was security? He couldn’t go to the bathroom without at least six people knowing, but he could sit on the side of the road for nearly two hours and no one showed? Rarely did he like everyone knowing what he did and when, but he found it annoying to be waiting here. There had been no random cars driving by either.

Twenty minutes later, a car finally appeared. Malachi breathed a sigh of relief as he recognized one of his bodyguards driving.

“Care to explain?” Kenneth asked before he emerged from the car.

“Lizbeth’s car ran out of petrol.”

“You’re on the wrong road.”

Malachi turned that over in his head. It would explain why it took so long for someone to find them. “I wasn’t driving and didn’t realize. One mountain road looks pretty much like another. How did the luncheon go?”

“We’ll discuss it later. I’m certain your wife will have something to say.”

Yes, she surely would. “How did she do?”

“We’ll discuss it later.” Robby motioned to Lizbeth. “If you’d like to come with us, miss, we’ll send someone back for your vehicle.”

Lizbeth glared at Malachi as she flounced by him. “Thank you very much, Robert. I appreciate your kindness.”

Great. And he’d be sitting in the back of the vehicle with her for the next hour at least. He positioned himself as far from her as he could, his legs angled to make it difficult for her to sit too close to him. As soon as there was service, he began searching the gossip sites for word on how his wife had done.

The princess read a speech obviously prepared for Prince Malachi. She stumbled repeatedly over the words. As may have been expected, she had some difficulty translating statements written for the prince about his wife into something she might say. According to a copy of the prince’s statement released earlier, one example was supposed to be:
I recently married a young woman and the past month has been like no other as I’ve gotten to know my wife even better. Isn’t she lovely?

The statement came out more like:
The prince married a young woman. Um, that’s me. The past month has been like no other as he got to know me better. Isn’t she, er, um, me, lovely?
The written word can’t convey the awkwardness present in the situation. In other portions of the speech, sections with no reference to herself or that would otherwise make for awkward translations to her person, Princess Jessabelle stumbled for no discernable reason.

Though the Mevendian people want to love their new princess, today’s speech did little to endear her to them. In fact, she may have inadvertently offended more than one group with her stuttering presentation.

Malachi closed his eyes and took a deep breath. This particular reporter tended to be one of the ones who gave his family the benefit of the doubt. If he was saying these sorts of things, the reality was likely far worse. He skimmed the comments. About half were something along the lines of “give the poor girl a break” while the other half echoed the sentiments of the reporter - or worse.

“Problems?” Lizbeth didn’t look up from her own tablet.

“Nothing for you to worry about.” Something about the whole situation felt off to Malachi. From running out of petrol to the timing and Jessabelle needing to give the speech. His family didn’t have many enemies but there were a few. Was one of them planning something nefarious but the second part of the plan didn’t work out? Or was he overthinking it? Most likely, Lizbeth forgot to get petrol and took a wrong turn. They ran out of petrol on an out of the way road with no cell phone service. Period. No bad guy who also ran out of petrol or had a flat tire.

Or jealous woman who wanted to find a way to make his wife look bad.

But why would Lizbeth do that? And what would make her think Jessabelle would do poorly? It seemed she had, but how could Lizbeth know that, and why would it matter?

Malachi tapped a few more times and pulled up another website, this one generally more scandalous.

What he saw made him blanch.

Newlywed Prince Malachi Stepping Out On His Wife?

What?

He scanned the article. Speculation about himself and Lizbeth given their past association on occasions that could be considered “dates.” If he didn’t know better, he could see why people might draw the conclusions, but why would they? His family had never given any indication there would be a marriage contract with Lizbeth. Mention of the one-sided wedding vows didn’t surprise him.

They reached her apartment building, and he paid little attention as she climbed out of the car. Time to head home and start damage control.

Chapter 12

Lizbeth let the door to her apartment slam shut behind her. What a waste of an afternoon.

No matter what Malachi thought, she hadn’t
meant
to get stuck on the side of the road with no cell phone service. That part had been a lucky coincidence. She’d known she was low on petrol, and she’d purposely taken a wrong turn, losing his security team. All she’d wanted was a few more minutes with him. She missed her friend, not just the man she loved. So much of his time had been consumed with his new wife. Rightfully so, she could grudgingly admit. She had fully anticipated, if they ran out of petrol, they’d be able to call in back-up quickly, giving them a few minutes to talk, but nothing more than that.

She never would have missed the luncheon. Was that why Malachi seemed so perturbed when they rode in his car back to her building? Did he want to attend the luncheon?

Lizbeth flopped on the couch and reached for the remote. One of the tabloid gossip shows turned on. They focused their attention mainly on the three countries making up The Royal Commonwealth of Belles Montagnes, though they would include good gossip from the rest of the world.

“Mevendia’s newest princess gave her first speech today and let the world know why she’s been kept in the background to this point. Her face alternated between pale and an unbecoming shade of green as she attempted to address the crowd using a speech obviously prepared for her husband. The discomfort of the entire gathering grew as she stumbled through the twenty minute speech. Where were Prince Malachi and Lizbeth Bence, the co-chair for this event? No one knows, but this photo was taken moments ago outside her apartment building.”

Lizbeth winced at the look on Malachi’s face in the photo. He was furious. She looked disheveled.

What had she hoped the outcome of their moments stalled on the side of the road would be?

That he would profess his undying love and if his wife didn’t produce an heir in the time prescribed by law, he could set her aside and marry Lizbeth?

She’d told him she wouldn’t take anyone’s sloppy seconds, but he had to know as well as she did that she’d marry him in a heartbeat.

The thought of Malachi doing the sorts of things required to produce an heir made Lizbeth’s skin crawl. How could he kiss her, make love to her, when Lizbeth knew he didn’t love her?

Her phone buzzed, and she answered without looking. “What?”

The opening salvo of her father’s tirade made her wince and hold the phone further away. When he paused for a breath, she interjected. “Just stop, okay?”

“I know you want to marry him, to force him into a compromising position that would make him quietly set aside this other woman and marry you instead. You can’t be so obvious about it, LB.” How she loathed that nickname. “It needs to be more subtle.”

“I didn’t plan this, Father.” Not really. “I ran out of petrol, and there was no cell phone service. Mal didn’t come anywhere near me.”

“Regardless, you have only your reputation working for you.”

Hot tears stung the back of her eyelids, but she didn’t respond to his statement.

“Bide your time. This woman will implode soon, mark my words. She botched the wedding and today’s speech. If it weren’t for the death of her father, the king would likely already be pressuring Mal to move to the country and quietly divorce her. Antonio only pushed Mal into it as a way to fulfill a promise to her father. He tried to avoid it. William refused to marry her, twice. Mal had no choice in the matter. He wasn’t told until the details were finalized, the date set, just a few minutes before the announcement was made. He doesn’t want this marriage any more than you do. Bide your time, and you’ll be Mevendia’s newest princess by this time next year.”

“Yes, Father.” Any other answer would only bring an unwanted lecture.

“Give it a few more months before you end up in a much more compromising position with him. He has to give his wife six months to conceive an heir before you can force the divorce through a child of your own.”

“He won’t sleep with me, Father.” One of the many things she loved about him was his integrity. “There is less than no chance I’ll be pregnant with his child six months from now.”
Or any other time.

She could almost see him wave a hand dismissively. “No matter. You don’t actually need to be pregnant with
his
child. As long as the king and the rest of the country believe you are, it doesn’t matter whose child it is. If we work it right, you might not even need to be pregnant.”

The implications of his words cut Lizbeth to the quick. “I have to go,” she managed to choke out, hanging up on him before he could respond. She loved Malachi but would she go so far as her father suggested? Could she live with herself if she tricked him into divorcing Jessabelle and marrying her instead? Would Malachi ever forgive her?

Would he feel there was anything to forgive? Or was he as desperate to end the marriage as Lizbeth’s father hoped he was?

One thing she’d always admired about Malachi was his integrity. Antonio’s affair before his coronation was one of Mevendia’s worst kept secrets. It was even taught about in history classes. Malachi had been conspicuously absent the day they covered Antonio’s early history. Lizbeth didn’t blame him. She wouldn’t want to hear the entire class talking about the proof of her father’s infidelity. Her own father had been more discreet, but Lizbeth suspected she had several half-siblings out there, perhaps even one of her classmates. She would never ask her father and would likely never know.

Which raised an interesting question.

Antonio’s mistress disappeared one day. No one believed she was dead, but what if there was truth to the rumors she’d given birth to the king’s child? Then what?

And how could she use that to her benefit?

Or could she?

More importantly, knowing how it would likely hurt Malachi,
would
she?

* * *

Jessabelle knew better than to let the tabloid press influence her.

But sometimes it was hard.

First, the scathing articles and comments about her speech. She knew it had been disastrous at best. Now, an article popped up with a picture of her husband sitting stoically in the back of his security-driven vehicle as a disheveled Lizbeth Bence climbed out. Next to the woman’s apartment building.

Under an accusation that he was already cheating on his wife.

Reading the story attached to the picture, it was likely only a matter of time before he did, anyway. He would have regardless, but her plain Jane-ness made it a near certainty. Few would have guessed so quickly, however. At least that’s what the tabloids were saying. They also made sure to mention the “six month escape clause.” If she wasn’t pregnant in six months, Malachi could legally set her aside for someone else without a second thought.

But Malachi had taken extra vows on his own. Without any pressure from anyone, he’d taken more traditional wedding vows. Even without cameras or anyone else forcing him to.

Or any witnesses.

Except for two people who were in another country.

No one else knew he’d promised her his fidelity.

Jessabelle turned that over in her mind. Had he promised her he’d be faithful with no one else around so that no one would know he was breaking his vows?