Royal Heir (Westerly Billionaire #3)(36)

Is my cousin coming for the crown again? If so, how would Rachelle and Delinda Westerly play into such a scheme?

Oh, my little Rachelle, this changes everything.





Chapter Twelve

Rachelle tried to remain calm as she digested the news that her grandmother was in Vandorra. Delinda didn’t do anything without an agenda. She obviously knows I’m here. Why would she meet with King Tadeas? “Did she say why she’s in Vandorra?”

When Magnus had described his father, Rachelle had imagined a frail, small man. The man seated at the head of the table might be thinner than Magnus, and his hair steel gray, but his shoulders were still square and his eyes as sharp as his son’s. He looked at his son while he answered Rachelle’s question. “She was concerned with a clip of video and a series of articles that followed it. After seeing the video myself, I completely understood. Of course, I promised our cooperation with repairing Rachelle’s reputation. I was disappointed, Magnus, to see how far you had allowed the story to go unchecked.”

“It has only been two days, Father, and the video was obviously doctored. Nothing more than a splash in the media, quickly forgotten.”

“Magnus, you know as well as I do that nothing is forgotten in this day and age. Mrs. Westerly is joining us for lunch so we may discuss how to best rectify the situation.”

“Rectify?” Rachelle and Magnus asked in unison.

“Ah, here she is now.” The king rose to his feet. Magnus did as well, and Rachelle followed suit.

Magnus looked angry, but he kept silent.

Delinda approached the table with her head held high. The king walked to meet her halfway and offered her his arm. Despite Rachelle’s irritation with her grandmother, she had to admit Delinda didn’t look at all out of place. Her pastel-blue dress and jacket were perfect for a formal garden lunch, as were her pearls. Rachelle felt distinctly underdressed in her slacks and blouse, but feeling inadequate around her grandmother was par for the course. Had Rachelle been offered a million dollars to cite a time when she’d done something her grandmother approved of, she doubted she could.

According to Delinda, Rachelle had always been too thin, too sensitive, too concerned with the business of others. Although they had recently reconciled, for most of Rachelle’s life, Delinda had made no secret of her dislike of Rachelle’s mother. Rachelle thankfully had endured limited interactions with Delinda, but Eric had practically been raised by her. It was no wonder he had run half a world away as soon as he’d been able to.

Magnus offered his hand in greeting. “A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Westerly.”

“The pleasure is mine, Your Royal Highness,” Delinda answered smoothly, as if meeting royalty was part of her daily routine. Rachelle hadn’t doubted for a second that her grandmother would have impeccable etiquette.

“Grandmother,” Rachelle said stiffly in greeting.

“Rachelle,” Delinda said. No warmth rang in her tone, but Rachelle hadn’t expected any. Whatever Delinda said, she wasn’t there for Rachelle. The only reputation her grandmother worried about was her own.

The king held out the chair beside him. “Please, sit beside me.”

Even Rachelle knew that the king normally sat first, and the deference to her grandmother grated. The last thing Delinda needed was a larger ego. Once they were all seated, Magnus having held her chair for her, staff began to deliver bowls of chilled cucumber soup. Rachelle’s stomach churned from nerves, so although it looked delicious, she didn’t touch it.

“Is Eric arriving late?” Delinda asked.

The king answered, “Unfortunately, he had a meeting that could not be postponed.”

Delinda pursed her lips, then turned her attention to Rachelle. “Your visit to the hospital went well this morning. Of course, I’d expect nothing less from Eric.”

“He was amazing,” Rachelle agreed.

“Public engagements can be difficult to navigate at first. I heard your son’s first visit at the children’s hospital was not as well received,” Delinda said to the king before taking a delicate sip of her soup.

The king didn’t seem to take offense at the comment, but Magnus’s hand clenched beside his plate. “I heard the same,” the king answered.

“Rachelle has a natural way with people, especially children.” Delinda looked across the table at Magnus in direct challenge, then back at his father.

“I couldn’t agree more. My son’s public image would benefit from her softer touch,” the king said.

“Father,” Magnus said between gritted teeth, “may I have a word with you alone?”

His father frowned. “Magnus, we are in the middle of a conversation. Whatever you would like to discuss shall have to wait.”

Magnus stood. “I disagree, Father.”

“Sit down, Magnus.”

Magnus remained standing. “Father—”

The king rose to his feet and said, “Respect me, Magnus, or leave my table. You are not king yet.”

Magnus and his father shared a long look that ended with Magnus returning to his seat. “Of course.”

When the king was once again seated, he turned to Delinda. “My apologies. As my only child, my son has too often gotten his own way, and I have allowed it. It is time, however, for him to take on more responsibility.” He turned back toward his son. “We have spoken regarding you cultivating a humanitarian role. This is the perfect opportunity to do just that.”