Rose slipped out of the bed and tiptoed to the walk-in closet. Diego was sound asleep, the remnants of his tuxedo draped haphazardly over a chair, and her elegant dress was in a heap on the floor. But she couldn’t worry about that now. Right now she needed to get some air. To think. To stop panicking.

Being with Diego had been so much more than she’d imagined, and that was saying a lot. And when he’d fallen asleep, she stared at the ceiling, trying to bridge the disconnect between what she was feeling and what would happen next. Tried to imagine herself as a . . . a princess. She couldn’t. And yet she could easily see herself on Diego’s arm, in his life. And the possibility of being an aunt to Emilia and Max . . . there could be nothing sweeter.

She slipped on a pair of yoga pants and a simple T-shirt, then put her hair up in a ponytail. What she wanted right now was a walk in the gardens. The soothing beauty of the flowers and the open air would calm her and help her think clearly. She hooked a pair of plain sandals on her finger, then tiptoed out of the room and down the back servant’s hall until she reached the side entrance to the grounds.

The guests had either departed or had gone to bed. There was a distant clink—probably staff up late, putting everything away. A low rumble caught her ears and she saw a couple of trucks crawling away from the castle, and she figured it was probably the band and their equipment. Tomorrow it would all be back to normal. Except . . .

The garden was quiet and dark, and she took a deep breath and let it out slowly, while the perfumed scent of the flowers drifted around her. She slipped on her sandals and began winding her way through the paths, her feet crunching on the fine crushed rock. Maybe she’d go sit on the bench by the fountain for a while. Clear her head. Get rid of this pit of uncertainty that sat in her stomach, which was in direct opposition to the elation she felt at having made love to Diego.

But when she got to the bench, it was occupied. By Raoul.

She paused, but he must have heard her feet on the rock because he looked up, startled. She was surprised, too, because his eyes were red-rimmed and unbearably sad.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, taking a step back. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“You’re not,” he replied, and slid over on the bench. “I’m s-s-sitting out here feeling sorry for myself.” His words were slightly slurred.

She should turn around and go and leave him in peace. But it was hard to turn away from someone who was so obviously hurting. And inebriated.

“Shall I get someone for you, Your Highness?”

He laughed, a bitter sound. “No. Besides, who would you call? My father? He’s had enough of his own grief. Diego?” His gaze narrowed. “Actually, I rather thought he’d be with you.”

Her cheeks heated.

“I see,” he said knowingly, a little sad smile on his lips. “He’s in love with you, you know.”

A knot of nerves tangled in her stomach, and she quickly changed the subject. “Perhaps Stephani, Your Highness?”

His gaze pierced her, and she wondered if she’d somehow touched a nerve. “She’s gone home,” he said sharply. “Where she belongs.”

“I see.” She didn’t, but Raoul was edgy and she wanted to help him. She went to the bench and perched beside him. “Was today the first party without your wife, your—”

“Raoul,” he interrupted. “No more Your Highness, please. Not now. Not when I’ve had far too much brandy to be sensible.”

“Raoul,” she said softly, waiting.

“And yes,” he admitted. “It was.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and withdrew a silver flask, spun off the cap, and took a long drink of whatever was inside—most likely the brandy he’d mentioned before. He grimaced and replaced the cap, but then belatedly handed it over to her, offering her a drink.

“No thank you,” she said quietly.

He leaned back on the bench. “So you and Diego. Interesting match.”

“He told me you are aware of our . . . relationship.” Her heart pounded with something that wasn’t quite fear but was definitely anxiety.

“Do you love him, Miss Walters?”

It was a complicated question, but she answered simply. “Yes, I do.” At Raoul’s silence, she swallowed and added, “But I haven’t been comfortable with it. I am here to care for Emilia and Max. It wasn’t anything I intended to happen.”

“I know that.” He swiveled his head in her direction, his chin dropping as if his head were heavy on his neck. “I have never seen my brother like this. It is good for him, I think. He’s happy.”

“But I’m . . . nobody.”

“And you think that will create problems?”

“And the children have to come first. Oh, Your . . . Raoul,” she corrected, “they are such sweet children, and they still miss their mother. I would not sacrifice their well-being for my own selfish fancies.”

His gaze hardened. “Is that what Diego is to you? A selfish fancy?”

The knot of nerves hardened into a heavy ball, settling right in the pit of her stomach. “Oh, no, of course not. He is . . .”

She hesitated. Thought of how he smiled at her. Held her as they danced. Sat with his arm around her as they talked in the dark.

The way he’d made her feel like the only woman in the world only an hour ago.

“He’s everything,” she admitted quietly.

When she looked at Raoul again, his jaw was clenched tightly. At first she thought he was angry, but one look in his eyes told her he was simply trying to hold back his emotions.

Raoul, it seemed, was a sad drunk. And it wouldn’t do for him to be seen in this condition.

“Sir,” she said softly, reaching out and putting her hand on his arm. “We can discuss all this at another time, can’t we? Let me help you inside. You need a chance to rest. Rehydrate.” She tried a small smile. “The children will want to see you tomorrow, without the smell of brandy, don’t you think?”

He nodded. “I’m sorry I got maudlin.”

“Entirely understandable,” she answered briskly. She stood and held out her hand. “How steady are you? How long have you been sitting out here, sipping from your flask?”

He grinned up at her, looking as goofy as it was possible for the very proper prince to look. “Long enough.”

Raoul put his hand on the arm of the bench and pushed himself upright, but she saw him reel unsteadily as he found his feet. The last thing he needed was to be seen staggering into the palace, or wandering through the gardens and taking a wrong turn on the paths. She slid up beside him and linked her arm with his. “Okay,” she said cheerfully. “Upsy daisy and on we go.”

He laughed, took a misstep, and stumbled on the path. Rose smiled secretly, and put her arm around his waist, for once not worrying about protocol around him. With Diego she forgot about it all the time. But not with Raoul or his father.

“I apologize,” he said soberly. “This isn’t like me at all.”

“I certainly didn’t have you pegged as a drinker,” she replied easily. “But everyone is entitled to a weak moment or two, Raoul. You’ve earned yours. And there’s no one to see but me, and I won’t breathe a word.”

He nodded and staggered a bit, but she kept her arm around him to help him stay on his feet.

“It’s just that I miss her,” he said, the ‘s’ sound drawn out just the slightest bit in each word. Worse than the slur was the melancholy behind the words.

“Of course you do. But I do hope you’ll be happy again someday. You’re too young to be alone forever.” She gave him a little nudge. “Granted, you don’t have much to offer a lady, but you might be able to scratch up some woman willing to take you on.”

He stopped, stared at her a moment, and then chuckled. And the chuckle turned into a laugh, and she smiled widely. Teasing him had been a bit of a gamble, but it was good to see him smile.

“Thank you, Rose,” he said, sighing at the end of his laughter. He clumsily folded her into a hug. “I can see why Diego cares for you so much. Don’t worry about Father and me. It won’t be our first scandal and it certainly won’t be our last. It will just require a plan to ease things in, yes?” He stood back. “We should have a family meeting and decide how to proceed.”

Rose bit down on her lip, suddenly feeling overwhelmed again, particularly since Raoul was echoing Diego’s earlier thoughts. “Easing things in sounds okay,” she admitted. “It might save me from a panic attack or two.”

He smiled again and then leaned down and kissed her cheek. “And we will sort out the children, too. They’ll be delighted. They love their tio Diego.”

She linked her arm with his again. “Come, let’s get you inside. We both need our beauty rest.”

It didn’t take too long for them to reach the doors. “Are you all right now?” she asked, wanting to avoid being seen helping Raoul anywhere. Far better to be discreet.

“I can manage. You?”

“Oh, I’m right as rain, sir.”

She turned to leave when his voice stopped her. “Rose?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Thank you. For what you said. For being so good for our family.”

Happiness warmed her from head to toe. “It’s my pleasure. Truly.”

She left him there, knowing he’d be fine to make it back to his chambers.

And upstairs Diego waited for her. She wasn’t sure what she would say or do when she got there, but talking to Raoul had at least allayed her fears a little. The family would help them, and it would all be okay.

* * *

Diego slipped out of bed and let Rose sleep. It was only just after five; he could make it back to his room without being seen. They didn’t need to invite unnecessary gossip. But today, once the dust had settled, he would sit down with his father and brother and they’d come up with a plan. For now, she deserved some extra sleep.

As quietly as he could, he slipped on his trousers and white shirt, and grabbed his shoes and socks. He gave one last, tender look at the form sleeping beneath the cozy duvet. Her casual, black clothes were in a small heap on the floor. He’d awakened when she’d come back into the room, not realizing she’d ever left. And she’d quietly stripped and climbed back into bed with him, curling her soft, strong body next to his back, spoon-fashion. Her contented sigh had told him everything was all right, so he’d closed his eyes and they’d gone back to sleep.

The hall was dim and quiet as he pulled the door gently closed with a soft click of the latch. He met no one as he went back to his suite, and once inside he stripped and took a hot shower. The agenda for the day was a light one after the ball, and he dressed semi-casually—no jeans or T-shirts, but pressed trousers and a collared shirt rolled up at the elbows. His hair was still damp when there was a knock at his door.

Smiling, he wondered if Rose had heard him leave and come after him. He swung open the door and saw . . .

Stephani. With a very grim set to her lips and a frazzled look about her eyes.

“What’s going on? It’s not even six.”

“I got a call about an hour ago. Today’s paper. You can bet it’ll be in the tabloids as well.”

He stared down at the black-and-white image at the center of the newspaper she held out. A New Mother for the Prince and Princess? shouted the headline, and the photo showed Raoul, locked in an embrace with a woman wearing dark clothes and sporting a blond ponytail. In smaller print, beneath the picture, was a line that was even worse. Crown Prince shakes off mourning during birthday celebrations with unknown guest at the palace.

“It’s Rose,” he said numbly.

“It is?”

He nodded. “I’ll explain more when we’re all together. I take it father and Raoul have been shown this as well?”

“Your father has, and is going to be in his office in ten minutes. Raoul was harder to wake, and for the first time in my memory, he cursed at me.” Diego frowned and she amended, “Not at me, in particular. Just at the picture. Then he held his head as if it might fall off.”

“He was drinking?”

“Apparently. Can you meet with us as well? Damage control is going to be front and center today, I’m afraid.”

“I’ll be right there.” He gave a grim smile. “And make sure there’s lots of coffee. Though I expect Raoul has sobered up rather quickly.”

After Stephani’s departure, Diego grabbed his phone and did a quick internet search. The gossip sites were picking up the picture already. Those headlines were horrendous, too. Raoul hadn’t been a widower that long. The vultures were circling and they were going to be merciless. What about the children? appeared more than once, and Diego winced.

He slid his phone into his pocket and made the walk to the office wing of the castle. A plan had already started to form in his mind, and time was of the essence. Before entering his father’s domain, he made a quick call to Camila and asked her to come to the office as soon as possible. Then he took a deep breath, let it out, and opened the door to his father’s inner sanctum. His whole life he’d dreaded coming through this door; it usually meant he’d done something wrong. But today that would change. Today he’d do something right . . . because he was finally needed.