Chapter Ten
Tension shadowed them the remainder of their time in Greece. Emrys wanted to ask Caitlyn to stay, Caitlyn seemed to be stressed by their situation, and they spoke little of it. Sensing that she was feeling more than a little anxious about the potentially lurking cameras, Emrys planned their activities indoors—in their hotel room, clubs where he could ensure security would minimize photography, and private rooms when they went out to eat.
To make matters worse, Caitlyn seemed to be coming down with something. She would no longer take a drink of champagne with him, making the excuse that her stomach felt funny. He was beginning to think that she was just saying that to keep from letting her guard down with him. One morning he woke to hear her getting sick in the bathroom.
The water ran, and there was the sound of gargling and spitting, before Caitlyn emerged, one hand rubbing over her stomach, and slipped back into bed as though nothing had happened. When Emrys rolled over, she gasped, clearly startled.
“We should talk,” Emrys told her, stroking her cheek.
“We should?”
“I don’t like seeing you so upset. Tell me what I can do.”
“I don’t know if you can do anything, Em.” Caitlyn let him slip his arm around her back and pull her closer. She sighed and leaned her forehead into his shoulder.
He petted the back of her hair. “When I go on set, you should head back to the palace.”
“I should go home.”
“You don’t want to be on a long flight right now. You’re sick. And trust me, in the few weeks after a scandal, you don’t want to be spending any more time in the public eye than you have to.” Emrys lifted her chin with two fingers. He needed her to agree to this; the rest would follow. And his mother was expecting her. “Do as I say. Go to the palace. Rest. Spend some time catching up with your work with no eyes but those of the servants on you.”
“And your mother.”
“She went on vacation, too, to see her aunt in Denmark. She won’t be back for another week.” Emrys shrugged his head to the side. It wasn’t true, but Caitlyn would feel more comfortable going to the palace if she thought she wouldn’t be dealing with his parents. “Imelda might be there, but you know she’s always busy with work.”
Caitlyn seemed to be thinking on it. She chewed on the inside of her cheek, furrowing her borrow and huffing a little sigh.
“I would love to have you come with me for the shoot, but since you are obviously sick, you wouldn’t enjoy it much. Sometimes significant others will come on-set with the stars, but usually only for a short time,” Emrys explained. “Maybe if you start to feel better in a week or so.”
“And I doubt we’ll be immune from cameras on the set where Emrys Sébire is filming.” She lifted her head a little to give him a fresh, minty kiss. “I could stay at the palace for a little, I guess. But I’m not really sick—“
“I just heard you in there, Cait.” Emrys stroked one hand down her back. “But our family doctor at the palace will take care of you, and the staff will attend to whatever you need.”
Caitlyn frowned again, but then nodded. “All right. I’ll wait there for you.”
***
Caitlyn simply couldn’t find the words. She’d tried several times to explain to Emrys that they were expecting a child, but each time she felt her heart in her throat, and something stopped her. She knew that their relationship was on more precarious ground than it had ever been. What would happen to them with the stress of a baby?
She could just take care of the problem herself, but she didn’t want to do that behind his back. Secrets had never been good for them, and if she were honest, she didn’t know if she could take a child away from Emrys, no matter how he’d hurt her in the past. Besides, if she didn’t have this child now, she would probably regret it when her unpredictable fertility made it impossible. And she did want children, if it was an option.
Still, they’d never talked about children or their future together, unless Emrys’s ridiculous “trial engagement” week counted. Caitlyn wasn’t even certain, in spite of the paparazzi’s certainty of her status as both the fiancée and the mistress, whether she even counted as his girlfriend. Behind his ruse, everything they had seemed to be an extended fling.
And now it was turning into a long-distance fling while Caitlyn tried to decide what to do with this baby.
They said a tearful (on her part) goodbye at the jet, since he would be traveling in another direction, and when she arrived at the palace, Imelda was there to greet her.
“We’ve put to rest the rumors,” Imelda said after their perfunctory greetings. “The media is always a problem. They’re always looking for something sensational, even when it’s quite the opposite. You’d think that the prince’s sudden engagement would turn them on, but it’s not scandalous enough, I suppose.”
“They had to have known, though, right?” Caitlyn walked with her arms crossed over her. Somehow, Imelda seemed to be the kind of person who might look right through you. Plus, she’d had four children herself. She had to know the signs. “They had pictures of me here in Cabeau and in Greece. The first paper to leak the story must have known they were making it up.”
“I don’t know whether they did or not. I doubt they care, as long as it sells, and in the global scheme of things, it’s unlikely that certain countries think too hard on what the royal family of Cabeau is up to. Emrys only gets their attention because of his career.” Imelda took Caitlyn’s arm, obliging her to unfold them and walk with a straight back. “I expect now they’ll do some digging on you and try to publish an exclusive. I hope you don’t have any skeletons in your closet.”
“My closets back home are too small for my wardrobe. I couldn’t fit anything else in them.”
Imelda stared at her blankly.
“There might be some pictures of me in clubs where I’ve traveled, but I haven’t exactly led a life of debauchery. I’m a web designer. We spend a lot of our lives indoors.”
“That is good. They always have enough on Emrys. No need to give them more. In fact, if your background is that clean, it will probably encourage Father to give you his blessing to marry sooner.”
Caitlyn’s chest tightened. “How long do you think he’ll take to decide?”
Imelda shook her head. “I couldn’t guess. But I don’t think he’ll refuse you. At this point, marrying Emrys off to anyone of the female sex would be a beneficial end to this war between them.”
“That’s…nice.”
“Don’t get me wrong. You’ve no connections to speak of, and we’ll have our hands full training you in the next few weeks, but Mother and Father are really just eager to get him settled already. He’s been so much better behaved since you’ve been in the picture.” Imelda led them into a sitting room where tea had already been laid out. “I think perhaps they are both a bit put out that you are such a civilizing influence on him. After all, they could have had this tamed version of Emrys for years if they hadn’t tried to marry him to Miranda.” She gestured for Caitlyn to sit. “Of course, the king does not make mistakes, you understand.”
“I, uh, right.” Caitlyn considered trying to get Imelda to let her retire to her rooms. She was tired and a little nauseous from the flight still, but Imelda wasn’t asking, really.
Once she was in her chair, Imelda lifted her chin, straightened her back, and motioned for Caitlyn to sit up straight as well.
“When you are in company, you must not slouch or fidget. You should assume that every eye is upon you, waiting for you to make a mistake,” Imelda instructed.
“Well, they are, aren’t they?” Caitlyn sat up straight, self-consciously trying to suck in her stomach a little, although the empire waists she was fond of tended to hide the bit of softness she’d gained during the vacation.
“Yes,” Imelda said seriously.
A pair of servants entered the moment she rang a little bell. One of them poured tea for each of them, and the other servant placed a few pastries on their plates with silver tongs. Caitlyn stared at the food. She was incredibly hungry, but she looked to Imelda to lead. This was obviously part of the “training” she was expected to complete.
Imelda gave her an approving nod. The way Imelda held the cup, how she gave a delicate sip, how she took small bites and dabbed the corners of her mouth—each move was calculated. Caitlyn tried to mimic her, but her sips were too loud and her bites too large. She got sticky glaze on the corner of her mouth, and Imelda gestured empathically to her napkin.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Just try again. You don’t have to be perfect, just not embarrassing.”
Was she embarrassing? It had never occurred to Caitlyn before that Emrys might have any opinion about the ways of moving and eating that came most natural to her. Was that one of the reasons he didn’t want her on set? Had she embarrassed him in France, here, and finally in Greece? She knew she had embarrassed him at the jazz club in New York…but it wasn’t as though Emrys was any authority on what was appropriate. Plus, he could be kind of a snob, when he was in a mood.
When she was finally allowed to go back to her rooms, Caitlyn was drooping a little. Though she was full. A benefit of lessons in decorum.
***
“Your mother is back early.”
Emrys smiled as he heard Caitlyn’s annoyed voice over the speakerphone. He sat very still in a chair while the studio’s hairdresser Jodie shaped up his long, curling locks. It had grown out over his vacation, but at least he’d kept off a beard, unlike some of his disheveled costars.
“When did she get in?” he asked.
“Yesterday. She and Imelda are on a mission to teach me how to be a lady and stuff me with teacakes.”
‘Well, good on that account. I’ve thought you looked a bit skinny since we started up again.”
“I try very hard to keep my figure!” Caitlyn snapped.
Emrys held back a laugh. No point in irritating her when she was already suffering through his family. “I’m kidding, Cait. You look fabulous. Enough so that the tabloids thought you were some kind of girl on the side. Just humor Mum and Imelda. As long as they feel like you’re making progress, they’ll leave you alone.”
“It would be easier if Adora were here. She’s gone back to school, and who knows where Elsa is.”
“Off making her own headlines,” Emrys joked. “Are you feeling any better? Tell them to lay off, if your stomach is still bothering you. Did you see the palace doctor?”
“Oh, no. Um, I started feeling better when I got here.”
“It may have just been travelling. Mother gets that sometimes.” Emrys narrowed his eyes and looked at his reflection in the mirror. “Don’t go too short on the sides. They have me wearing-black rimmed glasses in a few scenes. I want to look lady-killer, but not like a lesbian.”
Jodie chuckled.
“What?” Caitlyn said incredulously.
“I’m teasing my hairdresser.”
“That’s probably not a good idea. I’m sorry for his behavior!” Caitlyn called out.
“But I’m not sorry at all,” Emrys said.
“Is this the girl from the paper?” Jodie said quietly. “Or your fiancée? I won’t tell, but—“
“They’re the same person. My fiancée is the girl from the paper.”
“Oh, wow. Nice. You know, they’re always predicting someone is cheating or dying. They had an article out about your costar saying she’d gained 163 pounds and was at death’s door.”
Emrys almost looked back at her to see if she was joking. “See, Caitlyn, everyone deals with this tabloid garbage.”
“I guess so. I’m starting to see the humor in being the other woman to myself,” Caitlyn said.
“I’ll call Heloise and have her schedule you a massage. Relieve some of that stress,” Emrys said.
“I don’t know—“
“It’s done.”
“O-Okay, I guess.”
Emrys spoke to her for a few more minutes until he had to go, then he got off the phone, thanked Jodie for her work and her patience, and headed over to Wardrobe. While he would have liked to talk to Caitlyn more, he didn’t know the people working in Wardrobe, whereas he’d been on set with Jodie many of times. He trusted that while she listened to gossip, she didn’t share anything that wasn’t already in print.
After a quick run-in with the tape measure, Emrys waited for the head of Costuming to bring over his notes. He took a seat and started to skim over his script.
“Fancy seeing you here.” Nina approached him, walking slowly. She took a seat next to him and sipped an iced latte with the word ‘coconut’ scribbled on it.
“Given I’m the main love interest, not that surprising, I’d hope. How could I have gotten myself fired before we even do our first table reads?” Emrys said. “What are you doing here?”
“Improving the next six to eight weeks of your life.” Nina smirked and tossed back her thick black hair, which now had streaks of red and blond spiraling through it. “Your love interest has been recast.”
She pointed to herself with both hands and smiled smugly.
“Really? Did they say why?”
Nina shrugged. “Remember Jennifer was filming that comedy with her friend Daphne? She gained two dress sizes for the role and was probably counting John to keep lagging on his script revisions so she could get it all off before we had to show up on set. This is indie, but not that far indie.”
“I guess tabloids can occasionally get something almost right. Though I hope she’s not dying.”
Nina clicked her tongue. “She’s not dying. Her butt’s just the size of a boat.”
“To be honest, I never thought that Jennifer and I had much chemistry, but she was cast first.”
“At least they should know that we have it.” Nina winked. “We could give ’em a bit of a PR-mance.”
“I trust that PR can do their jobs without us having to pretend to go out or causing any more undue stress to my poor fiancée.”
“Yeah, where did she even come from? The last time I saw you, you were Mr. Flying Solo at that New York screening party. Now you’re engaged?”
Emrys pocketed his phone and stood. “What can I say? I’m in love.”
“Happens to the best of us, unfortunately.” Nina folded her hands together under her mouth. “Will we see her?”
“Maybe later. She’s not been feeling well since Greece, and Mum demanded that I let her train Cait up for the court.”
Nina laughed. “Poor fiancée!”
“I know, but better now than later. She may not know that I’m responsible, but she’ll be grateful once my father finally gives us permission to get married.”
“I honestly don’t understand how your country works.”
“I’ll invite you to the wedding, and you can see for yourself. Or ask my sister. She’s the one who does it, mostly.”
“And yet, Daddy Dearest is the one who gets to be all up in your love life?” Nina grimaced. “Weird.”
“If he couldn’t control the minute details of our lives, the world might just spin right off its axis,” Emrys said dryly.
The man from costuming who had taken Emrys’s measurements came for Nina. She stood, her tight mini-dress riding up so high that Emrys could have read the print off her panties, straightened her dress, and then walked away, swinging her hips. Wardrobe was going to have their work cut out for them getting Nina into clothing that went past the knee.
***
Emrys had only been on set for a week when Caitlyn saw that some idiot gossip blogger online had her on “Baby Bump Watch.” It was small consolation that he had: a) actually gotten her name right as well as the fact that she was supposedly Emrys’s fiancée and b) was using a picture from before she’d even reconnected with him. It was just that she was leaning over, and the loose fabric of her blouse very vaguely resembled a curve.
But the ball had started the gossip rolling. Now pictures of the front of her shirts were fair game, and as she had found out from Melinda, easily available in the checkout aisle. Melinda had snapped a few pictures of one magazine that had finally managed to dig up information about her, with the headline: “The Programming Princess: Pregnant?”
Caitlyn was torn between amusement and anxiety. In a way, she hoped that Emrys would read the stories and realize what was happening before she could tell him. During their phone calls, though, he didn’t seem to be thinking about it at all. He spent hours relating what was going on at the set, and Caitlyn listened, occasionally complaining about her princess lessons. And when she suggested that she was feeling well enough to come visit him on the set, he encouraged her to stay at the palace, just for a little longer.
There were moments when she convinced herself that the test had been a fluke. A false positive, coincidental symptoms, and an overreaction on her part. Until she tried to slip into a pair of jeans and felt the noticeable bump below her navel. She wasn’t nearly as round as the gossip rags made her out to be, but this was harder to ignore. Not impossible, though. She ditched the jeans and returned to her long dresses and empire waists. They still hid it completely, at least from Emrys’s mother and sister. But she could feel her body changing.
One morning, though, when Heloise brought her breakfast, Caitlyn noticed the maid looking at her curiously. Caitlyn realized that the T-shirt she’d been sleeping in had been hiked up and quickly tugged it back down.
“Heloise, please—”
“Your and Prince Emrys’s secrets are your own, ma’am,” she’d said firmly.
Caitlyn burned with guilt and uncertainty. She needed to see Emrys, or at least she needed to have a real conversation with him before it was so obvious that even his fickle attention couldn’t fail to miss it.