Page 15 of A Royal Mistake
She could suffer through a few uncomfortable dates if it meant sparing even one girl from quitting school to collect fresh water for her family.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She shrugged and smoothed her skirt. “I just want the people to know and love their future prince as much as they love Lena and Evie.”
“Don’t be daft, Pippa.” The queen’s lips puckered, and she cut her eyes at Lena, who was pretending to be enthralled by the passing scenery. Lena had butted heads with the queen on several occasions, but it seemed this was one battle she was going to let Pippa fight on her own. “Both courtships were a press nightmare.”
Pippa grinned. She must really be getting under her mother’s skin if she’d resorted to name calling. “True, but this time, the palace will control the narrative. You can vet the reporters yourself to ensure none of those awful tabloids are included.”
Not that it mattered. The populars had their sources, and there was little doubt they had at least one inside the palace. Hell, they probably had a dozen. The fact was, the palace had more leaks than a church roof and there was zero chance the Press Secretary could control the narrative.
“Honestly, Pippa. If you want the people to love their future prince, you’ll bring this whole charade to an end and marry Prince Gabriel.”
Not bleeding likely.
“I’ll take that under advisement.”
It didn’t take a genius to figure out Their Majesties favored Prince Gabriel because he was the Spanish heir and uniting their houses would make for good international relations. Still, she filed the suggestion away. Not because she had any intention of marrying Gabriel—or any of the suitors—but because it could only help to know which of the toffs Their Majesties preferred.
Now she’d just have to get rid of him.
“I don’t know where you get this stubborn streak.” Her mother sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “What’s next? Are you going to let the people choose your husband for you?”
Pippa threw her head back and laughed. Why not? They couldn’t possibly do a worse job than her parents.
* * *
Henry reachedacross the ornately carved desk and extended a hand to Prince William. The prince met him halfway, giving his hand a firm shake, before gesturing for him to be seated. The heir’s office was spacious and elegantly appointed, as befitting his station. But unlike so many of the colorful rooms he’d visited in the palace, the walls were painted a soft ivory with Valeria’s national colors prominently featured on the heavy drapes and upholstered chairs. The prince’s style was minimalist. There were few paintings on the walls and the only personal item on his desk was a single photo of his wife, giving the distinct impression that this was a place to get business done.
Henry liked it immediately.
“Can I offer you a drink?” Prince William asked, gesturing to a well-stocked minibar near the window.
“No, thank you.” Henry lowered himself into the chair opposite the desk. They only had an hour, and he didn’t want to waste a minute, not when there was so much to discuss. “Thank you again for agreeing to meet with me and for your generous hospitality. You have a beautiful country.”
Prince William arched a brow, and a slow smile spread across his face. “How could I refuse an official request from the Princely House of Liechtenstein?”
Henry bristled at the mention of his family name, but pushed the discomfort aside. Relying on his station to secure the meeting grated, but he’d long aspired to build a partnership with the Royal Foundation of Valeria, and now that the opportunity had finally presented itself, he wouldn’t blow it by losing his cool.
That did not, however, mean he was going to let Prince William push him around.
“You’re a busy man,” Henry said, smoothing his tie. “My relation to the Princely House is not something I shared lightly, although I admit I’d hoped it would make a difference.”
Scheisse. He’d debated revealing his true identity to the Valerian heir for months. In the eight years since he’d started the von der Recke Foundation, he hadn’t once used his given name. The revelation had been a last-ditch attempt to capture the prince’s attention before pursuing other opportunities. Though he’d been wary, Liam’s reputation for loyalty and honesty had convinced him in the end.
It was a calculated risk. One that had paid off.
“I’m curious,” Liam said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs. “Why all the cloak and dagger?”
It was a fair question, one he’d anticipated.
“I assure you it’s not as nefarious as it sounds.” Henry chuckled, striving for levity. “My parents enrolled me at boarding school under the pseudonym to protect me from the tabloids,” he explained, glossing over the accident that had nearly claimed his life. He’d already revealed too much. And he wasn’t about to bleed on command just to close the deal.
“As I grew up, the name afforded me far more freedom and privacy than my brothers.” He shrugged. “I chose to continue living as von der Recke. I’ve always had a passion for the non-profit sector and when I started my foundation, I realized I would have to choose between leveraging my royal heritage to raise funding and my desire to travel freely and work hands-on. I chose the latter.” Henry paused, meeting Prince William’s steely gaze. “I’m sure you understand.”
How could he not? His own wife had been dragged in the tabloids just last year. If anyone could appreciate Henry’s desire for privacy and freedom, surely it was the Valerian heir.
“My family has always had a challenging relationship with the media,” the prince said, dipping his chin in acknowledgement. “They’ve been particularly fascinated with my sister of late. I’m sure you’ve seen the speculation regarding her courtship.”
“I put little stock in the populars.” That was true enough, but he couldn’t very well plead ignorance given his own brother had been invited to contend for her hand. “But I am aware Their Majesties are interested in making a match for The Princess Royal. My brother Dominik is one of the suitors.”