Royal Mistake #3: Royal Mistake, #3

By Renna Peak and Ember Casey

Falling for a prince is no fairy tale – especially when the prince in question is holding a pageant to find a wife.

I know it’s Prince Andrew’s job to marry someone from the nobility—and my job to turn his search into a juicy tabloid story—but the longer I do this, the harder it is to deny my feelings. And he has the audacity to continue this ridiculous spectacle of a marriage pageant while doing things to me in private that make my toes curl…

The more time I spend in the Montovian Palace, though, the more I start to see the other side of Prince Andrew – the side he hides beneath his brooding exterior and his unwavering devotion to his country. Finally, after everything we’ve been through, I’m starting to learn his secrets…

New to the Royal Heartbreakers books?
Each series contains a complete romance story and can be read on its own, but the following is the chronological order of our books:

Royal Heartbreaker series (Prince Leopold + Eleanor Parker)
Royal Mistake series (Prince Andrew + Victoria Simpson) 
Royal Arrangement series (Prince William + Princess Justine)
Royal Wedding Fiasco (special release)
Royal Disaster series (coming soon!)
Royal Escape series (coming soon!)

• Language: English
• Publisher: Casey Peak Publishing, LLC
• Release date: Feb 14, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386537748

Book preview

Victoria

The king’s voice is ringing in my ears. This can’t really be happening—I hope I’m dreaming, but I know I’m not .

Andrew stirs beside me. What’s going on? He shields his eyes from the bright light in the room.

I blink a few times, trying to get my eyes to adjust. I’m still not sure any of this is even happening—it seems like I was asleep a second ago and now there are people freaking out in the doorway.

Father—it isn’t how it appears. Andrew climbs out of bed and smooths his clothes. I… I was merely attempting to help Ms. Simpson.

My eyes are finally focused and I see the king and queen standing in the doorway. Andrew’s mother has her mouth hanging open a little, glancing between the two of us. His father, on the other hand, has his lip curled into a sneer and is almost gnashing his teeth together.

"Helping? You expect me to believe that? This is behavior I would expect from Leopold, but not from you, Andrew." King Edmund looks like he’s about ready to throw me out the window.

The queen places her hand on the king’s forearm. They’re both clothed, darling. If Andrew says—

"I do say, Andrew interrupts. Since the plane accident, Ms. Simpson has had difficulty sleeping if I am not nearby. I’ve merely been attempting to help her with her difficulties, Father. I assure you, nothing untoward has happened."

Not tonight, anyway. I bite my tongue, trying to suppress the memory of what has very nearly happened several times now—and his saying any of those instances weren’t untoward is a lie.

But I understand why Andrew can’t tell his parents the real reason we’re sleeping together. He can’t appear weak—even to his family. And since the world already thinks he tried to kill himself via our plane crash, it wouldn’t do for him to let on that he really is having some sort of mental crisis. It’s much easier to blame it on me.

I promise, Father, this was merely an act of chivalry. He glances toward me, but doesn’t make eye contact.

I frown, looking between the two men. I stand from the bed, smoothing my clothes before I bow my head toward the king. I apologize, Your Majesty. His Highness was…helping me.

The king glares at me for a moment before his expression softens a bit. You’ll meet with one of the palace medical staff first thing tomorrow. He turns his attention back to Andrew. You should have known better than to try to remedy this situation yourself.

Forgive me, Father. Ms. Simpson asked that I not mention her difficulties.

I lift a brow, but I don’t say anything.

Very well. The king looks back at me. Ms. Simpson, are you well enough to come to a reception this evening? My…surprise guest has arrived and I think it important that you be there to see my son’s reaction.

The queen sighs and rolls her eyes. And what a surprise it is, Edmund. Really. She turns her gaze to mine. It will be an embarrassment to our family, Victoria, no matter how you write about it.

The king turns to his wife and wrinkles his nose. "I fail to see how this is an embarrassment to anyone, Penelope. And we’ve already had this discussion, and I’ll not have it again in front of Andrew."

She shakes her head slowly. "Fine. We don’t need to discuss anything. She turns her gaze back to me, giving me the smallest of smiles. Edmund seems to think it best that we keep the crown in the family."

My brow furrows, but I stay silent—I can probably get more for this story by letting them tell it through their arguing than I’ll be able to if I start asking questions. If I’ve learned anything in the short time I’ve been here, it’s that King Edmund hates being questioned. It’s pretty easy to see where Andrew gets the same trait.

Andrew’s brow also wrinkles with confusion. I’m not sure I understand, Mother—

Oh, you’ll understand in a few minutes. Once you see who it is your father has decided you’ll be marrying.

I’ve decided nothing of the sort, Penelope. The king is barely keeping his temper in check, and probably only because it’s his wife questioning his judgment and not someone else. Andrew can decide for himself whom he wishes to marry. It’s only that this particular choice would be the best suited for him. She knows the role she’ll have to play as the future queen. She’s well suited to him. And best of all, she’s Montovian.

Andrew’s eyes dart between his parents. "She’s…Montovian? And she’s a noblewoman? The creases on his forehead deepen. But that’s impossible, Father. If she were Montovian, she would be related…" His voice trails off as the realization of what he’s said sinks in.

His eyes lock with his mother’s and she tilts her head, her eyes widening a bit before she nods.

She’s…related? Andrew’s lip curls up a bit in what looks like disgust.

The king pulls his arm away from his wife, disgusted himself. Oh, you both act as though it’s something to be ashamed of. As if marrying within the family hasn’t been going on for centuries. It’s a perfectly acceptable practice. And Andrew… He turns his gaze back to his son’s. You already know her. And if it weren’t for the other difficulties we’d had with her parents in the past, we likely would have asked that you be betrothed.

Betrothal is an antiquated practice, Edmund. The queen speaks through her clenched teeth. "I’ll not have any of my children subjected to it."

The king rolls his eyes.

Andrew is shaking his head and begins to back slowly away from his parents. "You can’t be serious. Lady Clarissa is my cousin, Father. That is who you’re speaking of, isn’t it?"

King Edmund nods, almost smiling. "She’s your second cousin, once removed—your third cousin, if you will. Her father is my second cousin—we share a set of common great-grandparents. His smile widens. If you consider the facts, son, you’re only one-sixteenth related. And it would be a perfectly legal marriage. And exquisitely suitable. She would make you the perfect wife."

I don’t… He shakes his head, almost in disbelief. I hadn’t considered it, Father. But if you think her a good match, I will.

The king looks very pleased with himself, but his wife looks like she’s about to kill him.

And I’ve heard enough. I force a smile. If you’ll all excuse me, I should go change if I’m to witness this meeting. I have to grit my teeth and try to cover whatever it is I hear in my voice. I’ll definitely need to be there to be able to tell the story of how Prince Andrew met his new wife.

I’ll escort you to your suite. Andrew is behind me, so I can’t see his expression.

That won’t be necessary. I force another smile and give the king and queen a courteous nod, edging around them and into Andrew’s sitting room. I want to run before tears fill my eyes and any of them see the pain I’m sure is on my face.

I insist. Andrew follows me into the sitting room.

See that she is taken to the clinic in the morning, Andrew. I’ll not have her using you as some sort of sleeping aid—not when we have a wife to find for you. The king’s voice bellows through the chamber.

Edmund, really. The disgust in the queen’s voice is obvious.

Andrew’s hand is on my elbow. I’ll see that she is well cared for, Father. And thank you, Mother. I’ll see you both in a while to receive our guest. He opens the door for me and leads me through.

As soon as we’re in the corridor, I break his grasp on my arm. I turn to him, glaring. "Thank you for your chivalry, Your Highness, but I think I can handle walking to my room myself. If I have any difficulties, though, I’ll be sure and ask for your assistance."

He frowns. Victoria, I couldn’t—

"Oh, I know. God forbid your parents think you’re human. God forbid anyone think you’re human." I turn on my heel and begin walking down the hallway.

He races to catch up to me. You know why that happened. He touches my elbow again.

I wrench it away from him. "Of course I know why that happened. You couldn’t possibly embarrass yourself by telling your parents that you’re having trouble sleeping, too. It’s much better to make other people look like fools than to…I don’t know? Own your humanity?"

It’s not that simple, Victoria. He’s almost running to keep up with me. Your foot must be feeling better. You’re moving much more quickly than you were when we were hiking through the woods.

I come to a complete halt and turn to him. You are a pompous asshole, are you aware of that?

He glances up and down the corridor before he takes me by the elbow. He marches us to a nearby door, opens it, and pulls me into the room. He flips a switch on the wall and I see we’re in a small library.

He stares at me for a moment. Victoria, if I could tell them, I would. Can you understand that?

I shake my head. It’s not that difficult.

He rolls his eyes. "It is that difficult."

"Say it with me, Andrew. I’m. Having. Trouble. Sleeping."

He growls under his breath. "I am not—"

"I’m. Having. Trouble—"

He places his hands on my shoulders. "I am not having trouble with anything."

I lift a brow. "I suppose it’s not my place, right? You’re about to meet the love of your life. Maybe you can invite her to your chambers tonight—"

"That would be wholly inappropriate."

Really? I tilt my head. "But it isn’t inappropriate to ask me to do that?"

What you and I have is different. You already know that.

I shake my head again. "You and I don’t have anything. Isn’t that what you just said?"

"I said I’m not having trouble with anything—"

"You told William last night that we