Alessandro’s hands tightened visibly on the device. Gone was his normally jovial expression. “I have friends in London. They can quash this.”
Delinda took the tablet back and scrolled to an article put out by online social pages. “It’s too late for that. Unlike the press, you can’t control the Internet. Did you see that some second-rate princess agreed? She called Rachelle American trash. My granddaughter? She is a sweet, educated woman who put her career aside because her brother needs her. Who do they think they are? With her inheritance, Rachelle could buy and sell every palace in those ridiculously outdated and minuscule countries.”
“It’s not good for you to get worked up, Delinda,” Alessandro cautioned. “You really could make yourself sick.”
Hailey merely sat there with wide eyes and a pained expression.
Delinda put the tablet down and rose to her feet. “When I’m done with them, they’ll be sorry they ever came after a Westerly.”
“Is she going to war with Europe?” Hailey asked with an uncertain chuckle.
“No. Delinda, calm down.” Alessandro stood. “Rachelle is stronger than you think. She’ll rise above this.”
Delinda smiled and she nodded. “Yes, with my help she will. The prince doesn’t think my Rachelle is good enough for him? He’ll be singing a different tune when I’m done with him. Hailey, do bring Skye over for dinner tonight. I’d like to see her before I leave for Vandorra, especially considering I’m not certain how long this will take.”
Hailey joined them, looking bemused. “How long what will take? I don’t understand.”
Alessandro tried to pin Delinda with a look, but she refused to meet his eyes. “If I thought Eric would be supportive, I would tell him that I have finally found a role worthy of my consideration.”
“Oh boy,” Alessandro said.
“I’m still lost.” Hailey threw up her hands in confusion.
“Those Europeans like their royalty and their fairy tales,” Delinda said. “In the end, that’s what this will be. Princess Rachelle de Bartelebon. It has a ring to it, wouldn’t you say?”
“No more matchmaking,” Alessandro warned.
“I don’t care if they actually marry,” Delinda bit out, “but Rachelle will receive a proposal from that prince, and it will be a public one. She can turn him down if she wishes.”
Hailey chewed her lip nervously. “I haven’t known Rachelle as long as you have, but I don’t think she would want us to get involved.”
“That’s why she won’t know,” Delinda said firmly.
“Oh no.” Hailey looked to Alessandro for help.
“Don’t do this, Delinda.”
“It’s done. I fly out tonight.”
A heavy silence settled over the solarium until it was broken by the arrival of Michael. “Would anyone like tea?”
“Michael,” Delinda said, “if Cinderella were real, could you imagine a better fairy godmother for her than me?”
Michael took his time before answering. “If Cinderella were real, I doubt she’d need a prince anymore.”
Delinda smiled smugly. “Exactly the point I will make clear to Prince Magnus de Bartelebon.”
Chapter Seven
Magnus paced the library of the Duke of North Cumberland, who had generously offered up his sprawling private estate the night before. The move meant an impromptu holiday for his family, but the duke understood that some relationships were worth such inconvenience.
And there wasn’t a part of this that wasn’t inconvenient.
The appearance of Dr. Stein, his family’s trusted physician, halted Magnus midstep. The doctor was short, bald, and had been old as long as Magnus could remember, but he was also brilliant and discreet. “Is he alive?”
“Yes, and now simply sleeping. But you won’t like what I learned.”
Magnus waved the doctor in. “I didn’t expect to.”
“This isn’t a case of drug addiction, not in the classic sense. Your friend either injected himself or paid someone to inject him with a powerful anesthetic drug. He wasn’t looking for a high. He was looking to check out—maybe for a night, maybe forever. I’ve seen similar cases in the news, but sadly only after it ends tragically. I don’t know Eric Westerly beyond having seen him in movies, so I can’t speak to his motivation for sedating himself, but I’d say it’s at least partially to combat insomnia. My guess is he has worked his way through less extreme substances without success. If he continues to self-medicate and mixes this anesthesia with anything else, he won’t be your problem for long.”
Magnus ran his hand through his hair as he digested the news. “Is it addictive? Would there be withdrawal issues?”
Dr. Stein rubbed his chin in thought. “That will depend on the frequency of his use. Most of the data on addiction to this drug comes from studies about, surprisingly enough, people in the medical field who have access to it. It has a short half life and rapid metabolic clearance, so it often doesn’t show up in the bloodstream later.”
“So, it’s a matter of stopping him from taking more?”
The doctor shook his head slowly. “This is a deeply troubled man, Magnus. He needs to be admitted to a rehab center where he can address whatever he’s willing to risk his life to escape from. People don’t choose this drug—they resort to it out of desperation.”
So much for this being easy. “I don’t understand. He’s at the top of his career. He has enough money to buy himself out of any situation. Why the hell would a man like that be desperate?”
“How long have I known you, Magnus?”
“You delivered me.”
“Then may I be frank?”
“Please.”
“You were born with the heart of a warrior. You are at your best when there is a battle to be waged, but life is not always about the victory. I heard about your behavior at the children’s hospital. You scared the children more than the clowns did.”
Magnus pocketed his hands and frowned. There were few, if any, people he would accept speaking to him the way this man was. “Going there at all was my father’s idea. He was unable to go himself and believed it would be good for my public image.”
“Magnus, your father does not visit the sick for his public image. He goes because he understands they are more than his responsibility—they are his people. He loves them, and that is why they love him. You fight for Vandorra, but do you do it because you think it is the role you were born to? That’s not enough, my son. A king, one worth still having in this world, would lay down his life for his people because they have his heart as well as his sword.”
Suddenly impatient, Magnus demanded, “What does this have to do with Westerly?”
The doctor held his gaze for a moment before speaking. “You will not be able to help him if you don’t first try to understand him. I believe people come into our lives for a reason. Perhaps you need Eric as much as he needs you.”
“I don’t need anyone.”
Dr. Stein grimaced. “Your pride, my son, will stop you from becoming the king Vandorra needs. Don’t think that simply taking Eric to Finn will change anything for either of them. Consider Finn the voice of your people. They’re asking if you will open your heart to them. What will your answer be?”
I don’t know if I can be the king my father was.
Magnus thought about the small Vandorran town where his mother had chosen to raise him. It had been important to her that Magnus had bonds with their people, and he did. Perhaps he did not show his love for his people openly, but it was there. “Send Phillip in. I have a task for him.”
The doctor nodded and left the room. A moment later, Phillip, the head of Vandorra’s royal guard, entered. “You sent for me?”
“I did,” Magnus said. “I want you to dig deeper about Eric Westerly and his family in the United States. If one of them is so much as battling with a cavity, I want to know it. I need you to keep Westerly here until I decide what to do with him and watch him closely. I also want a full background check done on Rachelle Westerly. Everything.”
“She’s the buzz of London this morning.”