Olivia’s brain rattled in her skull, in desperate need of refreshment. She stood at the kitchen sink and filled her third tumbler of water, slugging it down as if she hadn’t drunk for days. It was shaping up to be a scorcher of a day in Cornwall, and she was determined to keep busy, determined not to dwell too much on the confusing nature of yesterday. Because, if she thought about it for too long, she felt like her head might explode.

However, every time she tried to herd her thoughts away, they just kept drifting back to Rosie.

Good god, Rosie. She was a woman who knew her own mind, and she went after what she wanted.

Plus, she wore a shirt well, and that smile? Her smile lit up every room she walked into. Olivia could sit and stare at that smile all day.

Plus, she was capable. So fucking capable. She would have made a damn good army officer. Plus, she’d look hot in a uniform. But that was beside the point.

Rosie’d had so much responsibility put on her at such a young age, and yet she’d coped admirably. What would Olivia have done in her place? She had no idea, because life had always been handed to her: do this, go here, say this. She’d never had to make her own way in the world, no matter how hard she’d tried.

She’d done as much as she could: coming out as gay, joining the army and making herself useful. However, as she’d got older, she’d realised she’d have to bow to royal duties eventually. With nothing else on the horizon, and even her father willing her to get engaged, Jemima had been the perfect, willing ruse.

That is, until Olivia had to stand up and declare it to the world. Thinking she could do something and doing it were two completely different things. The press conference had spooked her, and she’d been kicking herself ever since. This was real life, this wasn’t a game.

Rosie would never have stood for it. Olivia liked her guts, she liked her energy; hell, she liked her.

And therein lay the problem.

She really liked her.

And she couldn’t like her, because she was engaged to be married.

Her phone pinged; even that sound jarred.

She might need some headache pills. Did she have any headache pills? The good ones with codeine, not just the normal strength? She opened and closed a few cupboards in the kitchen, but no luck. She opened the drawer next to the cutlery and found a pair of scissors, Sellotape, birthday candles and matches. It didn’t matter where she went, every kitchen drawer seemed to contain these items.

She swiped on the text message, dread seeping through her.

‘When the hell are you coming home? Giles is hosting his dinner this weekend and we said we’d go weeks ago. I can let you have a couple of weeks, but even you must agree this is stretching it a little.’

Olivia winced, rubbing her temples as her headache kicked up a gear. The trouble was, she agreed with Jemima. She didn’t want to be a bitch, but that was how she was coming across. She’d agreed to the marriage after all, she owed Jemima something.

However, she couldn’t get away from the fact that six weeks ago, they hadn’t even been dating — and now they were engaged to be married. Whenever she’d imagined her wedding, she’d never imagined it to be arranged, a business deal. But that was what it boiled down to, and she hated it.

She grimaced, filled another glass with water, and skulled it. When did her life get so damn complicated? When she bowed down to her mother and her tirade on royal duty, that’s when.

Her mother had texted this week to say she was sending some grounds staff to sort out the garden, but Olivia had told her not to bother. She was trying to keep a low profile in the village, and if locals turned up to work, the chances of her doing so would decrease drastically.

So far, she’d managed to fly below the radar, but last night had come close to blowing her cover. Rosie could only be fobbed off so many times with vague answers, and Amy, unbeknown to her, had come uncomfortably close to the truth. She was thankful their pool-table spat seemed to have gone unnoticed, but maybe it wasn’t such an uncommon occurrence in the Dog & Duck. Maybe Amy antagonised customers on a regular basis. Olivia wouldn’t put it past her.

She still couldn’t wrap her brain around her and Rosie.

But as well as skating close to the edge, yesterday had given Olivia a glimpse of how easy life could be, how simple it was when you really thought about it.

Spending time with people you felt comfortable with, having drinks and dinner, sitting chatting on the beach. She didn’t quite know how it had happened, but she and Rosie just seemed to fit — and that was a very scary thought.

In so many ways, she reminded her of Ellie. Gorgeous, funny, ballsy. Ellie was the first woman Olivia had ever loved, and also the first one she’d truly lost. All the others had drifted into her life. But Ellie had slammed into her, left a dent, and then when the whole royalty deal proved too much, backed away. She hadn’t been prepared to live her life in a straitjacket, and she didn’t think Olivia should either.

Of course, she’d been right, but Olivia realised too late, and by that time, Ellie was gone.

If anything did happen with Rosie, would the outcome be the same? Would Olivia demand a different deal? Would her mother let her? She was getting a bit ahead of herself. They hadn’t even kissed yet. She’d thought about it last night, but instead kissed Rosie’s cheek at the last minute.

The rumble in her body low down told her she badly wanted to kiss Rosie, but it wouldn’t make life any simpler, would it?

Her phone ringing interrupted her thoughts, and she blinked, then held up the screen. She still needed headache pills.

The call was from her cousin, Sebastian. Gay and closeted, Sebastian was an Earl; his wife Helena, also gay, was a countess. Olivia never wanted to go down that road.

“How’s it going, little cousin?” Sebastian was three days older than Olivia, hence she was always the little cousin.

“It’s going great.” Olivia opened a final drawer and spied a packet of ibuprofen. She checked the date: two months over. They’d have to do.

“Liar,” Sebastian said with a chuckle. “How long you planning on hiding down there?”

“I’m not hiding.”

“You’re so hiding. Not that I blame you. But listen, I was at the palace the other day and your mother was not happy. You’ll be pleased to know Grandma was there fighting your corner, telling your mother exactly what she thought of your upcoming sham of a marriage.”

A sham. That described it exactly. Olivia’s head still throbbed. “Gotta love Grandma.”

“Who doesn’t?” Sebastian paused. “But back to your mother — she made a point of telling me all the things you were doing that she didn’t approve of, like I could do something about it. Like we had some weird gay code.”

“We kinda do, but still.” Olivia took the pills and washed them down with water.

“If I was you I’d give your parents a call. Try to smooth things over. It doesn’t help that Jemima isn’t being all that discreet, if you know what I mean. She’s telling her tales of woe to anyone who’ll listen.”

So much for Jemima understanding her way of life. “Anyone who’ll blab to the press?”

Sebastian paused. “I don’t think so, but it’s only a matter of time. You know what some of these reporters are like.”

It would be too much to ask Jemima to keep a low profile. Olivia sighed. She couldn’t control Jemima, she never could — and that might be the one aspect of their match-up her mother had overlooked. Jemima had always been something of a loose cannon.

“What are you doing down there? Isn’t it a bit boring?” Sebastian asked. “Are you living on cream teas and pasties?”

Olivia thought of the delicious pasties at Rosie’s cafe and her stomach rumbled.

“Not quite.”

“I thought you’d be back by now.”

Olivia paused. Should she tell Sebastian, her most-trusted cousin and the only one who truly understood? As if proving her point, she didn’t have to.

“You sly dog.” Sebastian broke the silence. “You’ve met someone down there, haven’t you? Oh my god, if your mother only knew—”

“—but she’s not going to, though, is she?”

“Not from me!” Sebastian sounded pleased with his detective work. “But tell me more.”

Olivia blew out a breath, warmth spreading through her at the thought of Rosie. “I have met someone, but nothing’s happened and it can’t go anywhere, can it? She runs the local cafe, she’s gorgeous, independent, fierce — all the things I love. She’s not interested in fame or wealth. And she wants to go travelling, which, as you know, is why I joined the army.”

“So, what’s the problem?”

Olivia stared at the phone. Sometimes, Sebastian could be very dim. “Apart from my upcoming wedding?”

“Yes, yes, apart from that. You know you could keep her as a mistress if you did start something. Come to me for the lowdown on getting the balance right.”

Olivia’s stomach lurched. “I’m not really the mistress-keeping type — and I know for sure Rosie isn’t mistress material, either.” She paused. “But the thing is, she’s just so… real, you know? And she likes me for me. But of course, the other problem is she thinks I work in PR and I’m an ex-solider. So I’m not being totally me. And I’m betting if she finds out the truth, she might run a mile.”

“You don’t know until you tell her. She might surprise you.”

Would she? Olivia imagined telling Rosie she was fourth in line to the throne, but then sirens blared in her brain and she quashed that particular scenario pronto. “Maybe. She’s so gutsy, but she’s got issues, too. I want to help, but I’m not sure how. She needs money to keep her cafe afloat, and I want to just write her a cheque.”

She filled Sebastian in on the situation at Mark & Maude’s.

“If she’s everything you say she is, she won’t take kindly to you coming along and throwing money at her. She’s too proud. Plus, it sounds like that’s what her ex tries to do. Also, it might blow your cover.”

Of course, everything he said was true. Maybe he wasn’t so dim after all.

“If you really want to help and get into her good books, you’ll have to do something she can run with. Something that will make a difference to her. Help her out with a problem, give her your time, show her you care. Any fool can throw money at a problem, but not everyone can solve things in the moment.”

Of course — why hadn’t she thought of that? She should help Rosie out — and she knew exactly how. “Sebastian, I don’t say this often, but you’re a bloody genius.”

He spluttered. “I am?”

“You are, but don’t spread it around.”

He laughed at that. “And Olivia?”

“Yes?”

He paused. “I don’t know if this is my place to say, but… don’t be too long down there.”

The hairs on the back of her neck all lifted at once. “Why?”

“It’s Jemima.” Another long pause. “When I said she wasn’t being discreet, it’s not just telling people you’ve buggered off.” A big intake of breath. “Look, I was in the club at the weekend and not to put it too bluntly, Jemima had her tongue down another woman’s throat.”

Nausea rose in her. What the fuck was she playing at? “Someone we know?” Olivia stopped — of course it was someone they knew. “Let me guess, Tabitha Middleton.”

There was a lengthy pause before he replied. “Yes, Tabitha.”

Olivia almost laughed it was so comical. Tabitha, whom Jemima had sworn she was done with.

She should have been madder, but instead she just felt sad. They were living separate lives at the moment, after all.

“Did I do the right thing?” She could almost hear Sebastian’s audible wince.

She sighed. “You did, big cousin. Don’t worry. I’ll sort Jemima and I’ll get in touch with Mother. Today is going to be a day of deeply uncomfortable conversations, isn’t it?”

“Rather you than me,” he replied. “See you soon — call in when you’re home, I miss you.”

“I will.” She ended the call and opened the back door, standing in the door frame, soaking up the lunchtime sun.

Fuck Jemima and fuck it all.

She was here, and she was going to help Rosie, even if nothing happened. At least she’d leave here knowing she’d made a difference, and that was what mattered. Her mother and her fiancée could wait.

Plus, Rosie would feed her, and right now, that was a more pressing matter.