Royal Secret: Royal Secret, #1

By Ember Casey and Renna Peak

A hot one-night stand. A secret baby. An unforgettable royal romance.

 

When the brooding Lord Xavier has a sizzling encounter with a mysterious American maid at his brother's wedding, he never expects to see her again.

 

He prefers his affairs hot, brief, and uncomplicated. And his night with Lauren is just that.

 

But he can't forget about that night. And when he runs into Lauren again a year later, he's about to learn she's been harboring a secret that will change his future forever…

 

This is part one of a three-part serial contemporary royal romance and ends with a cliffhanger.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Casey Peak Publishing, LLC
• Release date: May 18, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393265283

Book preview

Prologue

Xavier

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Ihate weddings.

Not because I have any particular vendetta against love, or my younger brother’s happiness—I’m thrilled for Benedict, honestly—but I’m not particularly fond of any event that requires me to dress in stuffy clothes and make small talk with dignitaries. I abhor small talk. And most talk, to be honest. People love to listen to themselves blather on about the most meaningless, mundane things.

I prefer silence.

I take a swig of my whiskey. I had to wave down one of the servants and specifically request it, since for some ungodly reason they’ve only been serving champagne and chilled wine at this affair.

Ah, Lord Xavier.

I’m cringing before I can even turn and look at the man who’s approached me. He’s a squat fellow, with a round, balding head that reminds me of a turnip. His white mustache is one of the largest I’ve ever seen, and the way it’s slightly curled at the ends make him look like some sort of comical villain.

Unfortunately, Ambassador Schneider isn’t nearly as interesting as any villain would be.

Fine weather we’re having, Schneider comments, wiggling his mustache and clearing his throat. Perfect day for a wedding.

I respond with a grunt and take another sip of my drink.

It’s a beautiful event, Schneider continues. He clears his throat again, like there’s a bit of phlegm caught there. And they make a lovely couple.

I grunt again, but my eyes find Benedict and his new bride out in the middle of the ballroom, spinning around in a dance. I like Quinn. She’s good for my brother, and she’ll make a fine addition to this family.

But curse her and my brother for making me endure this. Beside me, Schneider is still trying to clear that bit of phlegm from his throat.

If you’ll excuse me, I rumble. Without waiting for his response, I turn and escape through the crowd.

Half a dozen other people try to flag me down as I cross the ballroom. I don’t know what they believe they’ll gain by ingratiating themselves with me—I hold little influence in this country, and I have no interest in or patience for political games. I just want to toast to my brother, drink some good alcohol, and be done with it.

I’ve nearly reached the door—my escape—when my eyes land on my father. He’s spotted me trying to slip away.

His mouth drops into a stern frown as he starts toward me.

Bloody hell.

I pivot, steering myself from the doors and back into the crowd, trying to lose him. I move swiftly around a throng of dancers and weave through several tables before I risk a glance back. I can still see him, but now the furrows in his brow are deeper as he scans the crowd. He’s lost me.

And up ahead, I locate my new escape. A couple of decorative screens—lined with silk and bearing the emblems of Wintervale and the royal house of Montovia—have been placed in front of the corner of the room. I can slip behind those and steal myself a few moments of peace.

I glance around to make sure no one is watching me, then duck behind the screens.

Finally, I think, letting out a satisfied sigh. Peace and quiet and solitude.

I’m just about to take another well-deserved swig of my drink when there’s a squeak beside me.

I startle, nearly dropping my glass.

There’s someone else back here. A young woman in a servant’s uniform. Her cheeks are puffed out like a chipmunk hoarding nuts, and it takes me a moment to realize it’s because she’s just shoved a comically large bite of wedding cake into her mouth.

For a moment we just stand there, staring at each other, as her face grows progressively redder and redder.

Finally, she swallows.

It’s just a slice of cake, that’s all, she says.

I’m surprised to hear her speak with an American accent. I didn’t realize the Royal Palace hired non-Montovian servants.

It just looked so good, she says, staring longingly down at the rest of her slice. And I’ve been running around for the last twelve hours, and…well, I just couldn’t resist eating a slice. She glances my way again, looking almost nervous. You won’t tell anyone, will you?

Her eyes plead with mine. They’re deep brown, with lashes so thick I can see them even in the shadows behind these screens. There’s a dusky smattering of freckles across her nose, and her hair—which is so dark it looks almost blue in the shadowy light—is tied back in a braid that might have once been neat but is now quite messy.

There’s something intriguing about her, but I can’t quite put my finger on what.

You won’t tell? she asks again. She sounds nervous—but at the same time, I swear I detect a hint of defiance in her eyes as well. As if she’s daring me to snitch.

It’s amusing, truly.

Fighting a smile, I lean against the wall and bring my glass to my lips.

I won’t tell, I promise her. If you won’t.

To my pleasure, her mouth curls into a smile. Glad to know I’m not the only one hiding.

I shrug and grunt, then take a swig of my whiskey.

She shovels another giant bite of cake into her mouth, her eyes fluttering like she’s never experienced anything so pleasurable in her life.

Normally it takes more than a bite of cake to make a woman look like that, I think, amused. If she responds like this to cake, then I wonder how she responds to a man who knows what he’s doing?

I let myself enjoy that thought as I continue sipping at my drink.

And then she speaks again. What’s that look for?

I raise my brows. What look?

You know what look. She shoves another bite of cake into her mouth. You’re laughing at me.

Did you hear me laugh?

You don’t have to laugh out loud, she replies. You’re laughing inside. I can tell.

I just wanted to drink in peace, I tell her.

Oh. She looks embarrassed at first, then suspicious. But she doesn’t speak again, instead turning her attention back to her cake.

It occurs to me that she doesn’t know who I am. She’s obviously not from around here, despite her royal servant uniform. I wonder if knowing who I was would make her more embarrassed or more defiant. It’s yet another amusing thing to ponder about this intriguing, mysterious woman.

I continue to sip on my drink, watching her from the corner of my eye. For the first time all night, I’m actually enjoying myself. And you’re supposed to make a few bad decisions at your own brother’s wedding, aren’t you?

I bite back a smile. I don’t know who this woman is, but this night just got a lot more interesting. And I intend to take full advantage of this delightful new distraction.

Chapter 1

Lauren

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This cake is probably the most delicious thing I’ve ever put in my mouth , I think as I shovel in another bite. It’s reckless, I know, and probably one of the dumber things I’ve done since arriving in Montovia, but pastries have always been my downfall.

Well, pastries and men.

There’s something intriguing about the man standing behind the screen with me. He seems to feel almost as out of place as I do, though he’s obviously a guest. Judging by his accent, he must be from the groom’s side. But what do I know? Considering I’ve only been in Montovia a grand total of ten days, I wouldn’t know a member of the Montovian nobility from a bartender at the local pub.

I can feel his sidelong gaze on me, and he’s almost close enough for me to smell the alcohol on his breath. What is that, anyway? Whiskey?

I look up at him. So, what are you hiding from?

He takes another sip from his glass, his lips curving the slightest bit upward. Who said I was hiding?

I lift a brow, shaking my head a bit before taking another bite of my cake. The sponge instantly melts on my tongue.

Yep, I think, worth every bite.

Have you tried it? I ask the man in front of me. He’s