Hand-Me-Down Princess (13 page)

The door opening behind her made her jump, and she felt guilty as she put the tablet down.

A tired-looking Malachi tugged on his tie as he pushed the door shut behind him. “I am so very sorry for today,” he started before she could say a word. “Lizbeth’s car ran out of petrol, but she’d taken a wrong turn. No cell phone service and the security team had gotten separated from us.”

“Why were you riding with her?” Jessabelle stared at her hands, unable to believe that she dared ask the question.

“We had a few more things to discuss, and she had her car there. It made sense for me to ride with her and follow Robby and Kenneth.”

“I see.”

He sank into a chair near her. “I’m sorry you had to go through that alone. I know I told you there would be no public speaking for you at least not for a while, and you got thrown into the deep end. If I’d been able to get a hold of them, I never would have told them to ask you.”

“They made it sound like you had.” She never would have agreed otherwise.

“I didn’t. I never would.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I saw a couple of the articles. I know it didn’t go well.”

“I’m sorry I embarrassed the family. That I embarrassed you.”

Malachi leaned forward and took her hand. “I’m not embarrassed by you,
Mia Belle
. I am sorry you had to go through that and for the judgment that’s going to come from people who shouldn’t care or have an opinion. They all will. I hate that for you. I don’t particularly care for myself. I’ve been there, done that, and it rolls off me. Part of growing up in the public eye. You shouldn’t have to go through any of that.”

He squeezed her fingers before looking her in the eye. “And I promise you, there’s nothing to the rumors that something is going on with her. Nothing is. Nothing ever has. I’ve never even kissed her. We went to a bunch of balls and other functions together, but I never implied to her that there was a future for us. My family never implied to her family that a marriage contract would be forthcoming. I
will not
cheat on you.” He squeezed her fingers again. “Ever.”

“Thank you for clarifying.” Could she trust him? Jessabelle wanted to, desperately, but deep down, the part of her feeling betrayed by her parents had a hard time believing him.

Malachi brushed a kiss against her forehead and stood. “I think I’m going to go for a run on the treadmill then take a shower. I need to bleed off some stress. Are you all right?”

“Fine.”

He disappeared into the closet and emerged a minute later in shorts and a tank top. Jessabelle stared at the floor rather than notice how the running and weight lifting had shaped his body.

When he was gone, she swiveled her chair to the desk. The tablet lay in front of her, its screen dark. Instead, she pulled open the top desk drawer and took out the manila envelope. Maybe if she found out the answers she needed from her parents, she’d have an easier time believing her husband.

Once open, she upended the envelope, letting the papers slide out. On top rested the note from her father. She took a deep breath and opened the paper. Folded a single time, it hadn’t even been put in an envelope with her name on it like her mother’s below it.

Jessabelle -

By now, I’m sure you’ve looked through the papers. If not, you’ll find out momentarily you are adopted. Everything we know is in the paperwork here. Your mother may have known more than me and if so it’s in the note from her.

Be well.

Timothy Keller

How very like her father. Brusque and to the point. No emotion. Not for her. Not for her mother. Not for anyone or anything. The most emotion she’d ever seen from him had been relief when he told her the marriage contract had been signed.

Without her knowledge or consent.

But what was done was done.

She set the note to the side, but didn’t pick up the envelope from her mother. The first stack of papers was the thickest of the stacks and contained her parents’ application to the adoption agency. There, under medical information, was the answer to one question.

Why her parents couldn’t have children.

Her mother had a car accident as a teenager, resulting in a hysterectomy as an adult. No more details about why it took so long after the accident for her to have the surgery. Perhaps complications that didn’t arise until after she got married and wanted children?

Maybe more of her mother’s medical records would shed light on things, but those would be at the house, if they were anywhere.

Jessabelle continued to look through the application. Nothing much surprised her. Perhaps the income her mother had made before choosing to stay home after they adopted her. She did notice her mother had filled out the entire form. The only handwriting of her father’s was his signature.

The next paper packet was the information about her. Very little to go on. Her birthdate. Not even the name of the hospital, though given that she seemed to have been born in Erres, it would limit the choices to only two or three. At least, the yellow sticky note on top indicated her mother believed she’d been born in Mevendia’s capital city.

Another sheet indicated only the birth mother had been involved in the adoption. There was no mention of the birth father or if the mother had known who he was.

Jessabelle continued looking through the pages, struggling to grasp what it all meant. By the time Malachi returned from his run and the shower started, she’d determined only one thing.

She wanted to know more.

Chapter 13

When Malachi emerged from the closet, redressed in presentable clothes, Jessabelle had left their bedroom. On her desk, he noted the manila envelope and the adoption paperwork scattered across it. Good. Maybe she’d find the answers she needed.

His cell phone buzzed again. After ignoring it for more than an hour, he knew he’d eventually have to talk to his father.

Groaning, he pulled it out of his pocket. “Hello?”

“I thought I said to be discreet.”

“Good to hear your voice, too, Dad. And there’s nothing to be discreet about. There is nothing between me and Lizbeth that would require discretion.”

“You expect me to believe that?”

“No, but it’s the truth. And I told her there was never any expectation that she and I would end up together. Her father and my father are friends. We serve together on several charity committees. We attended a few functions together out of convenience. I never held her hand. I never kissed her. I never gave her any indication there was more than friendship between us. If you or Mother indicated more to her family, I had nothing to do with it.”

“I never said anything to her father about a potential marriage agreement between you two.”

“Good.”

His father seemed to be thinking out loud without realizing it. “Though I suppose there was one conversation, one time, where we joked about it. That was years ago.” He seemed to shake himself out of it. “Regardless, be more discreet and, whatever you do, don’t get her pregnant, especially before your wife has a child.”

Malachi’s head began to spin from the different directions his father kept heading. “I thought I wasn’t supposed to get close enough to my wife for her to have a child. But I’m not cheating on her. There is less than no chance Lizbeth will ever have my child. I really wish you would stop encouraging me to cheat on my wife.”

“I have to go. Just be careful.” The line clicked dead.

Malachi stuck the phone back in his pocket and headed for his office. The upcoming fundraiser for Adoption Option needed more of his attention than it had been getting. The next three hours were spent on the phone with potential sponsors. By the time he left his office for dinner, things were coming together nicely.

Malachi had hoped dinner with Jessabelle would become a highlight of his day, and he did enjoy spending the time with her, but since her father’s death, she’d done little except push food around on her plate.

“How are you?” He needed to try to get the conversation going.

She shrugged. “About like you’d expect, I guess. My father just died. I just gave the most hideous speech in the history of the royal family. I would imagine your father will have something to say about it sooner or later. Your mother, too. They’re probably wondering what they were thinking agreeing to my father’s insistence on a marriage contract but very glad I won’t be the next queen. They’re also wondering if you’re going to be discreet with Lizbeth or if you’ll get her pregnant before me, thereby allowing you to set me aside and marry her.”

He started to protest but she held up her hand without looking at him. “I’m not saying you’re having an affair. I’m saying that’s what they’re thinking.”

At least that was something. She believed him - or appeared to. She was the only one, it seemed, but he didn’t know what he could do about that.

* * *

Jessabelle doubted anyone had ever been so glad to clean out a cluttered house. She would have preferred to stay at her new home and avoid the paparazzi all together. Malachi offered to help her, but she’d turned down his repeated offers. Instead, she braved the dozen or so reporters and photographers by herself every day. They waited at the main palace gates as well as outside her father’s home. They were there when she arrived and still there when she left. Daily, photos of her appeared on the tabloid sites, along with speculation of trouble in her marriage. Most of the pictures were taken as she climbed out of the chauffeured car and walked into the house. A few were taken through windows until she realized what was happening and closed the drapes. She always wore a ball cap and big sunglasses in an effort to remain as hidden as possible.

When she emerged in the evenings, she was often dusty and disheveled, but she didn’t care enough to freshen up before leaving. The king probably had some thoughts on the matter, but so far he’d kept them to himself.

The prospect of being done pleased her, but once it had all been taken care of she would have no more excuses for not playing a fuller role in the royal family. Her absence at charity functions had already been noted, along with scathing comments about why the family might not want her to attend. The tabloids wanted it both ways, it seemed. They wanted her to attend so they could lambaste her some more, but when she didn’t they ripped her to shreds for that. If she cared enough, she might have figured out a way to get the press to like her a bit more, but, for the moment at least, she didn’t.

At least not until Malachi brought it up.

They sat across from each other at the large dining room table in their apartment when he broached the subject.

“Jessabelle, there’s something we need to talk about.”

She didn’t reply. They’d been married over a month, and he still intimidated her. Instead, she pushed her food around her plate in an effort to make it look like she’d been eating.

“I know this has been difficult for you. I know you haven’t been sleeping well.”

No matter how she tried to make herself lay still and not bother him in their shared bed, she must not have been as successful as she thought.

“But my father is insisting that you need to do more public appearances.” Through her lashes, Jessabelle saw him sigh and lean back in his chair. “He wants you doing at least one a day. I fought him on that as hard as I could. He agreed to back off for now if you’d do at least two or three a week. I can be with you at most of them and will do my best to make sure you’re not asked to speak. The first, non-negotiable event, is Tuesday.”

She pushed a piece of tomato toward the edge of her plate, turning his words over and over in her head.

“Are you going to say something?” Her tomato had made it all the way around the circumference of her plate.

“What do you want me to say?”

“Are you okay with this?”

She traded the tomato for a piece of something green to push around instead. “Do I have a choice?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Then what is there to say?”

Even without looking, she could tell he stifled a sigh. “I’ll make sure the details are in your tablet.”

“Thanks.”

“It’ll be mid-morning so if you want to go to your father’s house afterward, you’ll have time to get some work done before dinner.”

Her head shot up. “Dinner?” They didn’t normally have special dinner plans. They ate together at whatever time was convenient for Malachi. His schedule was much busier than hers, after all. She worked at the house until she was told it was time to go, usually about an hour before they ate. She had time to return to the palace and take a quick shower in one of the spare bathrooms. By doing so, she ran less risk of running into Prince Malachi when she was only half-dressed. He would never intentionally walk in on her, but it gave her more peace of mind. Then they ate dinner together.

Malachi took a sip of his wine. “We have dinner Tuesday night with my family, remember?”

Right. The obligatory once weekly dinner she’d managed to avoid by working at her father’s house. “I remember.” It seemed that accidentally working late again wouldn’t happen.