âROSE-ANITRA, we have a surprise for you.â
Rose sighed. In her experience surprises from her in-laws were like surprises in a fairground ghost-train: âSurprise!â followed by green slimeâor worse. Rose had spent the evening on a windswept scree, delivering a calf which had taken one look at the outside world and elected to stay put. It had taken her hours to persuade it to change its mind. Sheâd been up before dawn and she hadnât stopped since. More than anything else in the whole world, she wanted to go to bed.
There was also the issue of the letter. The stiff, formal communication had arrived, registered mail, in the midst of a bunch of condolence cards. Sheâd read it briefly, then had stuffed it in her overall pocket to try and make sense of later. Sheâd like to think about it now, but Rose knew better than to try and deflect her in-laws. So she perched on the edge of an overstuffed chair in their overheated sitting room, she clasped her hands obediently, and she braced herself.
âItâs a wonderful surprise,â Gladys said, but for once she sounded a bit nervous.
âYouâll be really pleased,â Bob said, and Rose cast him an uncertain glance. Ever since her husband Max had died two years ago, Rose suspected Bob empathised with her a little. But only a little. Not so much that heâd stand up to his wife.
âYou know, itâs the anniversary of Maxâs death today,â Gladys said, casting a quelling glance at her husband.
âOf course.â How could Rose have forgotten? Yes, she still grieved for the man sheâd loved, but maybe it was a little over the top that her veterinary clinic had been filled with as many flowers today as it had been two years ago. Max had been a loved son of the village. His memory would be kept alive for ever.
âWe waited until now to tell you,â Gladys said. âBecause Max asked us to wait. He said we were to let you get the worst of your grieving over, for you couldnât have coped with a child until now.â
âIâ¦What are you saying?â Roseâs fingers clenched involuntarily into her palms. Of course she couldnât have coped with a child. Not when sheâd been fighting to earn her way though vet school. Not when she and Max had been battling his illness. And not now, when she was struggling to earn enough for this tiny vet clinic to support them all.
âBut now itâs time,â Gladys said, and she smiled.
âTime?â Rose managed. âFor what?â
âItâs his sperm,â Bob said, and the elderly manâs voice was eager. âItâs Maxâs sperm, Rose. When he first got sick, years and years ago, he was naught but a lad, but they told us that the treatment might make him infertile. Even then we thought whoâd inherit this life? Whoâd take this place forward?â
Who indeed? But Rose wasnât asking the question. She was staring at them in dawning horror.
âSo we had it frozen,â Gladys said. âAnd we wanted it to be a surprise. Itâs his two-year anniversary present. From Max to you. Now you can have his babies.â
Five hundred miles away in London, in the illustrious international law firm Goodman, Stern and Haddock, another surprise was being played out.
Nikolai de Montez, barrister-at-law, was staring at the elderly man across his desk in stunned silence.
Heâd walked in five minutes before the scheduled appointment heâd made a week earlier, neatly dressed, stooped with age, and with hands that trembled. The card heâd handed over had said simply: âErhard Fritz. Assistant to the Crown.â
âMy question is simple, really,â Erhard said without preamble. âIf it meant you were to inherit a throne, would you be prepared to marry?â
As partner in this internationally renowned law firm, Nick was accustomed to listening to all sorts of outrageous proposals, but this was one to take the breath away.
âWould I be prepared to marry?â he said now, really carefully, as if his words alone could make the situation explode. âMay I askâ¦marry who?â
âA woman called Rose McCray. You might know her as Rose-Anitra de Montez. Sheâs a veterinarian in Yorkshire, but it seems that she might also be first in line to the throne of Alp de Montez.â
How could she walk away? She couldnât, but for the last two days Rose had felt like she was walking in a nightmareâ-the nightmare that was the remains of her husbandâs life.
Everywhere she went she was surrounded by memories. She woke and Max looked down on her from the framed photograph beside their wedding bed. Gladys had collapsed in hysterics when Rose had wanted to give away his clothes, so Maxâs shirts and trousers still hung in the closet. Maxâs coats still hung in the entrance hall, his boots still stood on the back porch. âIâll not be forgetting our Max,â she said fiercely when anyone challenged her.