CHAPTER FOUR
IT WAS amazing how quickly, once a decision had been made, that plans were set in concrete. Before she could change her mind, Alastair told Marguerite and Belle, and Penny-Rose was left to tell Bert.
‘One wisecrack about romance and you’re dead,’ she told her boss. ‘It’s a marriage of convenience for a year, but the world-and the team-has to think it’s indefinite. You know why I’m doing it, and it was you who made me listen to the man. So you can just shut up and support me. Or else.’
Bert did. Surprisingly, he met her decision with wholehearted approval, and proceeded to tell the men-confidentially-that Penny-Rose was taking a step up in the world. He didn’t tell them about the time frame, but he did tell them everything else.
The men sat in stunned silence while they took it in.
And then they wholeheartedly approved! In the time they’d worked with her, the team had become extraordinarily fond of their ‘Penny-Rose’, and in their opinion her stroke of good fortune couldn’t have happened to anyone nicer.
But they couldn’t understand why she was still sorting rocks as if nothing had happened.
‘I’m not royal yet,’ she retorted. ‘And even when I’m married, I’ll still be me.’ Still Penny-Rose, she thought. Not Rose yet. ‘I’m better off out here.’
Out of the publicity, she meant. Here, in the secluded castle grounds, working alongside her friends, she was shielded from media hype. She could concentrate on what she was good at and block out her increasing nervousness.
She could also block out her siblings’ reactions. Which was tricky.
Because she couldn’t tell them it was a business arrangement which would last only for a year. They felt so indebted to her already… If they knew she was doing this for them, she’d have a mass educational walk-out, which was the last thing she wanted.
So she told Heather the bare facts and left her sister to fill in the gaps as best she could. Which Heather did, with relish.
‘That’s just fantastic.’ Heather could hardly believe it. ‘Oh, Penny-Rose, I always knew you’d marry someone special. A real live prince? Is he fabulous?’
‘I guess you could call him fabulous,’ she said cautiously, and Heather chuckled.
‘He’d have to be if you’ve decided to marry him. I know what you think of marriage.’ She hesitated and Penny-Rose could hear her uncertainty down the line. ‘What does he call you? Penelope?’
‘Rose.’
‘Even though he knows you’re called Penelope?’
‘Yes.’
‘You’ll be Princess Rose?’
‘I guess so.’ She took a deep breath. ‘He says…he says he won’t call me Penny-Rose because I’m worth much more.’ She didn’t add that the way he called her Rose made her feel odd-like he was deliberately distancing himself from who she really was.
But Heather loved it. ‘Then he is special,’ Heather said soundly. ‘And…’ Penny-Rose could imagine her sister’s glee on the other end of the line. ‘Is he very rich?’
‘Um, yes.’
‘Specialler and specialler.’
Penny-Rose grinned. ‘Specialler… Is that good grammar?’
‘Always the big sister. Leave my grammar alone. When do we get to meet him?’
‘The wedding’s in six weeks. Alastair will send you plane tickets, if you can come.’
There was a squeal of delight from the other end of the phone. ‘Really?’
‘Really.’
‘Oh…’ A long sigh of pure pleasure. ‘Try and keep us away. Can we be bridesmaids?’
‘I’m not having bridesmaids.’
‘Princesses always have bridesmaids.’
‘Not this one.’
‘But…’ There was a slight pause. ‘It is going to be a royal wedding-right?’
There was only one answer to that. ‘Yes.’
‘Fabulous.’ Another sigh, then… ‘Help, we don’t have anything to wear.’
This had already been discussed. ‘Alastair’s sending you a cheque,’ she told her sister. ‘So…so you can get something wonderful to wear.’ When she revealed how much the cheque would be for, there was a moment’s silence.
‘Is this guy for real?’
‘Yes.’
‘Does he have any brothers?’
That brought another grin. ‘No.’
‘He must be wonderful,’ Heather said at last, when she’d caught her breath. ‘It’d take a special sort of prince to look at you in your disgusting work clothes and see the gorgeous Penny-Rose underneath.’ She sighed once more. ‘You’ll be able to stop stone-walling.’
‘If anyone asked you to marry him,’ Rose said carefully, ‘would you stop wanting to be a doctor?’
That halted her sister’s romanticism in its tracks. ‘Um, no.’
‘Then leave my career alone.’
‘Alastair’s happy for you to stay a stone-waller?’
‘It’s what I am.’
There was a long, thoughtful silence, and then a sigh so deep it was almost a blessing.
‘Oh, Penny-Rose. Oh, love, I’m so happy for you I’m starting to cry.’
There was nothing Penny-Rose could do to prevent her siblings’ reactions.
There was also nothing she could do to stop the media frenzy. Even though no formal announcement had been made, their evening at Lilie’s had been noticed.
‘Stay at the castle from now on,’ Alastair told her, and she had no choice. Photographers were camped out at the castle gates. Their night at Lilie’s, along with Belle’s hasty departure, had been noticed and put together with glee. The media knew how urgently Alastair needed a bride, and Penny-Rose was obviously it.
And she didn’t like the sensation at all. The conversion of Penny-Rose to Rose…
‘I’m beginning to feel like a poor little rich girl,’ she said as she sat down to dinner with Marguerite and Alastair two days later. Reluctantly, she’d moved into the castle guest quarters. At knock-off time she therefore bathed away her grime and presented herself at the dinner table as a normal guest.
A normal guest? Ha! She didn’t feel in the least normal. She’d never seen so much glass and silverware in her life, and it took all her courage to stay dignified in front of the servants. Now, as the butler moved away with the dinner plates, she grimaced. ‘I can’t go anywhere?’
‘You couldn’t afford to go anywhere before this anyway.’ Alastair smiled across the table at her, his gentleness robbing his words of offence. ‘And at least we don’t serve you turnip soup.’
‘I know. I’m not complaining.’ Her sense of humour reasserted itself. But she wished he wouldn’t smile like that. It put her right off what she was thinking.
What was it? Oh, right. Not complaining…
‘Or at least, not very much,’ she added, hauling herself back to the matter in hand. ‘I just need to remember not to take my wheelbarrow close to the boundary while I’m working. And I dread long-distance lenses.’
‘They haven’t placed you as one of the stone-walling team,’ Alastair told her. ‘Heaven forbid that they do. You’re sure the team will stay silent? And the Berics?’
‘I’d imagine your money will ensure that,’ she said dryly. ‘Talk about buying silence. So you’re right. As long as I stay here I’m fine.’
‘But…’ Alastair was thinking this through ‘…there is one problem. You’ll need to take a trip to the city.’
‘Why?’
‘You need clothes.’
She bristled. ‘What’s wrong with my clothes?’
He hesitated, and then he smiled again, seeking to lessen offence. ‘Your dress…’ He motioned to her sundress. ‘I know I’m not supposed to notice, but it’s the third night in a row that you’ve worn it.’
Her bristle turned into a glower. ‘So? I like my dress.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘And you have a wardrobe of different evening-wear?’
‘I don’t need-’
‘A stone-waller may not need, but my intended bride does,’ he told her. ‘Friday is official announcement time, and you should look great.’