A Prince at Last! Page 12

  Juliet left the arbor and followed the heartwrenching noise to the back end of the garden. There she found Yvette, the head gardener’s wife, sobbing while attempting to till the small vegetable garden beside the gardener’s house. Her infant was apparently sleeping in a wicker bassinet on the bench by the back door.

  “What is it, Yvette?” Juliet put an arm around her trembling shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

  The other woman kept crying.

  “Is it the baby?”

  Yvette’s crying increased.

  Alarmed, Juliet said, “I’ll go fetch the royal physician.”

  “No!” Yvette stopped her sobbing to grab Juliet’s arm with desperate hands. “No, you mustn’t.”

  “If the baby is sick, then we have to have a doctor check her out.”

  “She’s not sick.”

  “Then what’s wrong? You’ve been acting strangely for days now, Yvette. I’ve heard about postpartum depression caused by the hormonal changes after pregnancy. Why don’t we have the physician check you out just to be sure?”

  Yvette wiped the tears from her cheeks and stared at Juliet with a miserable expression in her brown eyes. “I know what’s wrong with me and it has nothing to do with hormones.”

  “Then what is it? You know you can trust me, Yvette.”

  “I don’t know what to do.” Yvette plucked at her apron. “I swore I wouldn’t tell anyone ever, but I can’t live with what I’ve done.”

  “Is it your husband?” Juliet prompted gently. “Your marriage?”

  “I didn’t want to do it.” Yvette’s tears started to roll again. “I told my husband that it was wrong, that no amount of money could make up for what we had done.”

  Juliet patted her on the back sympathetically. “Go on.”

  “My husband’s mother is ill and needed expensive medical treatment available here in St. Michel. The debts began to mount. That’s when she came to us. With an offer.”

  “Who came to you?”

  “Queen Celeste. Or rather one of her representatives.”

  “A man or woman?”

  “A man. Dr. Mellion.”

  Juliet had never liked Celeste’s physician. He had an arrogant way about him.

  Yvette continued. “He presented us with an offer, enough money to pay for all the medical bills and much more as well.”

  “In exchange for what?”

  “For my baby.” Yvette whispered the words.

  Juliet was stunned. “He wanted to buy your baby daughter?”

  “No, he wanted to buy my baby son.”

  Now Juliet was confused. “But you ended up having a girl.”

  Yvette nervously looked over her shoulder. “Perhaps I shouldn’t be telling you any of this.”

  “Most definitely you should tell me everything,” Juliet stated firmly. “Did the doctor say why he wanted to buy your baby?”

  “It was only in the event that Queen Celeste had a baby girl.”

  “But she had a boy and you had the girl. So the deal fell through, right?”

  Yvette shook her head, her short dark curly hair bouncing in the slight breeze. “No, it did not fall through. I wish it had. I wish with all my heart that it had. But it did not.”

  “What do you mean? What are you saying, Yvette?”

  “That I sold my baby boy to the queen.”

  “And the baby girl you have?”

  “Is the queen’s,” Yvette confessed in a hushed, frightened voice.

  “But how…?”

  “Dr. Mellion switched the babies shortly after they were born. When it was discovered that Queen Celeste had given birth to a daughter, her doctor and his assistant came and took my son. I’d given birth a few hours before. I barely had time to see him, to hold him before he was taken from me. Ripped from my arms. I begged them not to take him.” Tears streamed down Yvette’s flushed cheeks. “But they took him anyway. They gave me a baby girl instead.”

  Juliet was stunned by this news. She’d always known that Celeste was a schemer but she’d never expected her to go this far, to steal another woman’s baby and try to pass it off as her own. The suspicions had been that perhaps the child wasn’t really the king’s, that it was the result of a liaison with a lover. But no one had suspected that Celeste wasn’t the mother. That was too wild a scenario for anyone to have come up with. Anyone but Celeste.

  “Oh, Yvette.” Juliet hugged her. “I’m so sorry that they put you through this.”

  “We made a bargain with the devil, it is right that we pay. But it isn’t right that these two innocent babies pay as well. I want my son back.”

  “I know you do. Don’t worry, we’ll get him back for you. There now, dry your tears. We’ll go to Luc and tell him everything. He’ll take it from there.”

  “We’ll be sent to jail.” Yvette’s voice trembled with fear.

  “No, you won’t. The doctor may well go to jail, but you won’t.”

  “But I sold my baby.”

  “It was not your idea. Your husband agreed to the plan because he was in dire need of money for his poor sick mother. No one will blame him for that, although they may question his judgment in agreeing to this plan. But it is Celeste and the doctor who are to blame here. They are the ones who initiated this devious plan.”

  “You really think we can get my little boy back without going to jail?” For the first time, a faint glimmer of hope shone in her dark eyes.

  “I’m certain of it. Come now, dry those tears.” Juliet paused at the sound of her name being urgently called. “Here, I’m here.”

  Henri, one of the footmen, came rushing into the vegetable garden, crushing the tender vegetation beneath his feet. “We have been searching for you everywhere, Miss Juliet. You must come at once. There has been an accident.”

  The hairs on the back of her neck prickled and she went cold all over. “An accident?”

  “Yes. It’s Luc Dumont. He’s asking for you. I was told to bring you to him immediately. Come, we mustn’t wait. Every second counts!”

  “What happened? How badly is he hurt?”

  “The injuries are serious,” Henri replied. “Life-threatening.”

  Juliet’s heart stopped. She couldn’t breathe. Luc, seriously hurt. It was her worst nightmare come true. Talons of panic clawed their way through her.

  “You, there.” Henri pointed at Yvette. “I fear Miss Juliet is going to need comforting when she sees how badly off Luc is. You must accompany us.”

  “But I can’t leave the baby,” Yvette protested.

  “Bring the infant with us,” Henri said, “but hurry. Or we shall be too late. There’s a car waiting to take you to him.”

  Dazed and terrified for Luc, Juliet nodded for Yvette to do as Henri said. Moments later they were in a dark sedan rushing from the palace. It was only then that she realized they weren’t alone in the sedan. Claude Guignard, St. Michel’s deputy energy minister, was in the car with them. He patted her hand with commiseration. “It doesn’t look good. I’m sorry.”

  “Were you with Luc? What can you tell me about the accident?”

  “There was an explosion. I was sent to get you.”

  Please God, let him live. Don’t let him die!

  Juliet kept repeating that prayer over and over again, as they raced through the city of St. Michel. “Wait, your driver missed the turnoff to the hospital.”

  “Luc isn’t at the hospital.”

  “Why not?”

  “He was injured near the warehouses down by the river. They fear moving him before his condition has been stabilized. To do so would guarantee his death.”

  Cold terror gripped every part of her body, making it hard for her even to breathe.

  What had Luc been doing at a warehouse by the river? Had he been following a lead about the Rhinelanders for Annexation group? Had they caused his accident? St. Michel had never had to worry about terrorist activities in the past, but the world was a different place these days. If the deputy energy min
ister was involved, then it must have something to do with petroleum? At one of the loading facilities along the river perhaps?

  “We’ll be there in a minute or two,” Claude assured her.

  True to his word, the sedan pulled to a halt beside one of the warehouses. Juliet was out of the car in an instant. “Hurry! Take me to Luc!”

  “Follow me.” Claude led them inside.

  The difference between the bright sunshine outside and the darkness of the warehouse had Juliet pausing for a moment as she frantically tried to scan the room. “I don’t see him, Mr. Guignard. Where is he?”

  “In the small storeroom ahead.” He stood aside to let them go ahead of him.

  Juliet and Yvette had no sooner stepped into the room than the door was slammed behind them.

  The light in there was even dimmer, provided only by a small and dingy barred window located up near the ceiling. There was no sign of Luc, or of anyone else.

  Juliet was getting a very bad feeling about this. She turned to the closed door. “Mr. Guignard, open the door.” She was rather proud of the command in her voice, using her best dowager queen impersonation. “Open the door this instant!”

  “I’m afraid I can’t do that, Juliet.”

  The baby started to cry.

  It was all a ruse. Juliet realized that now. “Luc isn’t hurt at all, is he? You said that to get me here. Why?”

  “Because I overheard Yvette spilling her heart to you, the stupid fool. I had to do something before you went to Luc and told him everything.”

  “Now, Claude, you don’t want to do this.” Her voice was more empathetic now. Obviously the commanding stuff hadn’t worked. Besides, it wasn’t a natural for her. “You’re not thinking clearly.”

  “Of course I’m not thinking clearly!” he shouted in return, making the baby cry all the more. Yvette was also starting to sob quietly.

  Juliet refused to give in to fear or panic. Too late, she recalled rumors linking Claude with Celeste. “You can’t just keep us locked up here.”

  “I can and I will until I figure out what to do next. Don’t bother screaming, both warehouses on either side are deserted this time of year. No one will hear you.”

  “Luc will come after me. He’ll find us.”

  “No, he won’t.” Claude’s voice sounded dangerously confident. “I’ll make sure of that.”

  The door to the White Drawing Room swung open and bounced against the wall. Luc automatically assumed a defensive posture. He never sat in a room with his back to the door, part of his security training. When he saw it was only Jacqueline, he relaxed. Then he tensed up again at the possibility that the precocious adolescent had come to tell his grandmother about finding Luc and Juliet together on her bed yesterday afternoon.

  He tried to read the girl’s expression, but all he got was panic. Which meant what? In Jacqueline’s case it could mean anything from a clothing crisis to a rumor about one of her favorite boy bands calling it quits. She looked like something from an MTV video with her denim miniskirt and her stretchy top covering only one shoulder. And then there was her purple hair.

  “A princess never runs into a room as if she were on fire, mignon,” the dowager queen reprimanded her. “I’ve told you that before.”

  “Have you seen Juliet?” Jacqueline’s chest was heaving as if she’d been running. It made the sparkling blue gem in her navel dip and ripple.

  “No,” the dowager queen replied, not the least bit flustered by her granddaughter’s garish appearance.

  “She’s missing!” Jacqueline exclaimed.

  The dowager queen wasn’t impressed. “What are you talking about? You really must curb that dramatic streak of yours, Jacqueline.”

  But Luc took her words seriously. “When was the last time you saw her?”

  “Last night. She left a note on my door at six this morning saying she was going to go for a walk in the gardens. That was hours ago.”

  Luc was instantly on alert. “Have you had the guards check the gardens?”

  Jacqueline nodded. “Yes, and I’ve checked the palace as well. She’s not in her office or her quarters. And none of the servants have seen her, either. Alistair already asked everyone.”

  “Did you check the stables? There were kittens there…”

  “I checked. No one there has seen her at all today.”

  “I’m sure she’s fine,” the dowager queen said.

  “Then where is she?”

  “Come on, I’ll help you find her,” Luc said.

  “But, Luc!” the dowager queen protested. “What about Celeste? You are supposed to be going to an emergency meeting with the prime minister about the situation.”

  Luc’s reply was curt. “Celeste and the prime minister can both wait. Juliet is more important.”

  “What other songs do you know, Yvette?” Juliet stood perched on an overturned storage box as she tried to reach the tiny window. This was one of the few times she was glad of her height. Just a few inches more and she’d be able to at least look outside, see if anyone was about. Meanwhile, she needed Yvette to keep making noise as she joined her in loud choruses of everything from Broadway show tunes to French lullabies to Madonna’s songs. There was always a chance that some passerby might hear them. Screaming for help for almost an hour had only increased their panic and left their voices hoarse. That’s when Juliet had come up with the singing idea.

  “I can’t sing any longer, miss.”

  “Certainly you can. You mustn’t give up, Yvette.”

  “We are doomed!” the other woman wailed. “Didn’t you hear them talking about us? That man plans on putting us in the cargo hold of some river barge and shipping us off to South Africa. I’ll never see my baby boy again.”

  “Now, Yvette…”

  “They’re going to win! They’re going to kill Luc and have my son take over as the ruling king. Queen Celeste is going to win.”

  “Stop that.” Juliet jumped down from her makeshift ladder to grab Yvette by the shoulders. “Look at me. And listen to me. No one is going to hurt Luc. He’s had years of training as a security specialist. He knows what he’s doing. He will find us. And until he does, we have to stay calm and be smart. Do you understand?”

  Yvette nodded.

  “Good. Now, how about a Britney Spears song?” Juliet started restacking the boxes. “She’s my sister’s favorite.”

  “Now do you believe me that Juliet’s gone?” Jacqueline demanded after they’d scoured the gardens and found no sign of her.

  Luc was trying to stay calm. “The junior gardener said he saw Juliet heading toward the head gardener’s cottage early this morning.”

  “I know that. I was standing right beside you when he told you. But there’s no one at the cottage now. We’ve been standing here pounding on the door for ages. And you even climbed in the open window to check things out and saw nothing suspicious. Right?”

  “Right.” No sign of forced entrance or of anything amiss. Spotting a child at the cottage next door, Luc motioned the boy over. He seemed more interested in Jacqueline’s navel jewelry than Luc’s questions. “Do you know Juliet Beaudreau?” Luc’s voice was sharp.

  The boy, who looked to be about nine or ten, nodded and swallowed nervously. “Have you seen her today?” Luc asked.

  The boy nodded again.

  “Do you know where she is?”

  “A man came and took them away.” The boy’s voice quivered. “He took the gardener’s wife and Julie.”

  “What man?”

  “Henri, the footman.”

  “Celeste’s favorite footman,” Jacqueline declared. “Come on, let’s go find him.”

  “You go stay with your grandmother. I’ll deal with Henri alone.”

  “He’s probably already left the palace,” she warned him. “If he has, go find Celeste.”

  Luc was about to inform Jacqueline that he didn’t need a twelve-year-old with purple hair telling him how to run an investigation, when he saw the fe
ar in her eyes—eyes so similar to Juliet’s. “Don’t worry, Muffin. I’ll find her.” He gave her a brief hug.

  “You’d better, Spyman.” Her voice was jaunty but her smile was shaky. “Juliet is one of a kind. We can’t lose her.”

  Luc deposited Jacqueline in the dowager queen’s safe care before calling Alistair, the palace steward, on the palace phone. As Jacqueline had suspected, Henri had gone missing as well. Luc wasted no time, going directly to Queen Celeste’s quarters.

  He pounded on the door once before opening it.

  “How dare you enter my quarters without my permission!” Celeste stood before him, dressed in an expensive designer suit and dripping in priceless jewels, the epitome of royal outrage. “Who do you think you are?”

  “I’m the King of St. Michel and I want to know what you’ve done with Juliet.”

  “You’re not the king yet.” Her smile was more smirk than anything else.

  “Is that a threat? Threatening the monarch is an offense punishable by life imprisonment, Celeste. I don’t think you want to spend the rest of your days in a prison, now do you?”

  Her confidence waned as the hard edge of his voice finally got through to her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t threaten you. I’m a mere woman, still weak from birthing the king’s child.”

  “You haven’t had a weak moment in your life.”

  She actually preened at his comment. She placed a conciliatory hand on his arm. “Perhaps we should work together, Luc. To unite St. Michel. If you were to marry me, then the people would be sure to accept you as their leader.”

  He stepped away from her in disdain. “I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last woman in the universe. So you can stop batting your eyes at me and keep your hands to yourself. I’m not buying the femme fatale routine.”

  For the first time, Celeste looked at him with a hint of fear. Good. He had his war face on, the one he used with terrorists and hardened criminals, the one that warned them that he’d just as soon stomp on them as talk to them. His voice turned as deadly as his expression. “You have ten seconds to tell me what you’ve done with Juliet. And if you’ve hurt her, I swear you’ll pay with your life.”