Page 21 of Pregnant In The King's Palace

‘And where is Valentine this weekend?’ Moriana asked. ‘I half expected him to put in an appearance.’

She wasn’t the only one. ‘I did invite him.’ Angelique held up her hands in all innocence. ‘Not for a meal, mind, but he knew we were coming in this weekend and that we’d all be here. I told him he was free to drop in any time. Not that kings drop in.’

‘They don’t?’ said a voice from the doorway, and there stood Valentine in what for him counted as casual clothes. Dark trousers, perfectly pressed. A dove-grey business shirt, rolled to the sleeves and with the top buttons undone. No security detail in sight, although presumably they were around somewhere. ‘I did knock. And when no one came to the door, I followed the noise.’

‘Valentine!’ Moriana was the only one there who was anywhere near his equal in rank, and when she stood immediately, everyone else began to, whether they’d finished their meal or not.

‘Don’t.’ He held up his hand for everyone to stop. ‘Please. Finish your meals. I’ve come at an inconvenient time.’

‘Or you could pull up a chair and have some paella and drink some of your wine,’ Angelique offered, and meant every word of it. ‘What happens at Raven Hall stays at Raven Hall. It’s the new rule.’

She could see him assessing everyone in the room. Her parents, Luciana, Carlos and Benedict, Moriana and her retinue. ‘No Theo?’ he murmured, and Moriana waved a dismissive hand.

‘His loss.’

Carlos dragged a chair across and placed it between himself and their father. Lucia snorted inelegantly and Angelique bit back a smile. Had the very fine-looking King of Thallasia ever been subjected to a Spanish family’s intimidation tactics? She doubted it, even as she rose to get him a glass for the wine and a plate and utensils for the food on the table. ‘It’s serve yourself, although Carlos might be persuaded to fill your glass. It’s yours, by the way, the wine.’

‘That was my doing.’ Benedict came clean, and Angelique laughed outright.

‘What’s this I hear? Is that your conscience speaking?’

‘Only because I owe you.’

‘So very much,’ Lucia murmured.

And Carlos raised his glass and said, ‘I’ll drink to that,’ so everyone did and it became a toast and then conversation resumed between Moriana and Lucia, between Benedict and her mother, between Carlos and her father as they talked straight through Valentine, who looked at his empty plate and then at her and then picked up a serving spoon and dug into her mother’s monster pan of seafood paella.

‘Good choice,’ said Carlos, and Valentine nodded and glanced Angelique’s way again.

‘So I hear.’

‘Nice place you have here,’ said her father.

‘Yes.’

‘Rent it out often?’ asked Benedict, full of barbs and doublespeak, and Angelique aimed a well-deserved kick at him beneath the table. ‘Ouch! You kicked me.’

‘Did I hit anything important?’ Own your actions, an old lesson learned well. She smiled sweetly, and winked at Valentine, the poor outnumbered soul.

Who was he when he wasn’t being a king? She truly didn’t know.

It was hard to say if even he knew, but he was no stranger to social situations and general awkwardness, that much was clear as he picked food as a topic and drew her parents into a conversation about their favourite meals and memories, and places too, until soon everyone was joining in, and it was fun to simply sit and watch him watching them.

After dinner Carlos, Benedict and her father drew him away to one of the sitting rooms while she and Lucia stayed back and helped clear the table. Moriana stayed too, a queen doing dishes, and she laughed and said she had the better of the deal, so Lucia opened another bottle of wine for them all.

‘He wants you,’ Moriana said to Angelique, and no one needed to put a name to those words.

‘I know.’

‘Are you going to let him have you?’

‘I think so. I don’t need marriage. I’m not interested in status. I don’t care that he can’t give me children. And if he wants to make waves and annoy those in his court who sought to bring him down, I’m just the woman to help him make a statement.’

‘True,’ said Moriana. ‘I like it.’

‘I don’t.’ Lucia pointed a clean wooden spoon in Angelique’s direction. ‘That’s ninety per cent bravado talking, and ten per cent delusion. You’re going to fall for him all over again and there’ll be so many pieces to pick up at the end that we won’t be able to find them all.’

‘Lucia’s a bit of a pessimist,’ her mother explained to Moriana, and then it was on.

---