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And if now wasn’t the time to rock the boat about his own secrets, it certainly wasn’t the time to divulge any others. He’d kept the secret this long—he’d keep it a while longer.
He took a deep breath, pretending to calm himself. At least he could give the appearance of placidity, if nothing else. “No. I’m only frustrated.”
Rafael reached out and clapped him on the shoulder, turning to face the contractors. “Smile at them,” his brother said softly into Armin’s ears. “Smooth it over. Good man.”
Armin’s brother Rafael had offered to come to the girls’ painting lesson. The king, Katie discovered, was a serious man, who nonetheless had a good sense of humor and an expansive attitude. He’d asked the instructor to set up two additional easels for him and Katie, and they stood behind the girls, giving them a little space, and tried to follow along with the lesson.
As the instructor went over the finer points of shading the apple they were attempting to recreate on canvas, Rafael looked across at her. “I heard an interesting rumor at the meeting this morning.”
“The signing?” she said neutrally. “What kinds of rumors would be discussed at a contract signing?”
“Rumors about you.” He didn’t waste time, the king. She could appreciate that. “You and my brother.”
“You know, Your Majesty,” she said, swirling her brush in bright red paint, “if you have questions, you can just ask.”
He considered this with a huffed laugh. “All right, Ms. Crestley. I’ll ask. What is your relationship with my brother?”
She added a few more strokes to the apple. “I’m the nanny to his daughters.”
“And the rumors? Is there any truth to them?”
“You’d have to be more specific about which rumors you mean,” Katie said with a little sigh. “There are so many of them flying around the palace, and around the city.”
“Is that so?”
“People talk about everything. I hear them when I go on outside errands, while the girls are in school. The royal family is on everyone’s lips.”
Rafael nodded solemnly, looking at his own painting.
“So many,” Katie went on. “There’s the one that Armin is actually a twin.”
A smile broke across Rafael’s face. “He’s not a twin. I can put that one to rest.”
“Or, that one of you has a secret child.” She said it lightly, so lightly, but even from the corner of her eye, the change in Rafael’s expression was obvious. He pressed his lips shut tight.
“That’s not the first time I’ve heard someone mention that particular rumor,” he said, an edge to his voice.
“Well, most rumors with any legs—”
“You’re right, Ms. Crestley. It wasn’t wise to discuss this.”
She took another deep breath and steadied herself. All families had secrets. The royal family was no exception. But a secret child? As a natural-born journalist, she wanted to know more about this. But as a grown adult, she knew when a line had been crossed. And it had. She didn’t dare press the king about it any further, even if it could be her ticket to silencing Papazyan for at least a little while longer.
If one of the brothers had a secret child hidden away somewhere, then things were complicated beyond what she had expected. A secret child could mean a secret heir to the throne, for one thing.
“My intent was…” Rafael’s voice trailed off, and then he spoke again. “If there is some…other emotion between yourself and my brother, then my intent was to tell you to tread carefully.”
Katie’s heart pounded. “I don’t know what you mean by that.”
“A prince is not always as available as he seems. His past sometimes has a tighter hold on him than we realize.”
Cryptic.
Her thoughts moved slowly, as if through the mud. Did this count as confirmation that someone had a secret child? If it was, and she took it to Papazyan, it would be a deep dive into tabloid journalism all over again.
And if Armin ever found out she was the source…she knew what the consequences were for that. She’d been over them with herself many times.
But…if people were asking about their relationship, then maybe the writing was on the wall already. Armin wouldn’t stay with her if it meant hurting the country, damaging the reputation of his family, or putting the girls’ happiness at risk in anyway.
