Queen of Hearts (Seven Brides for Seven Mothers Book 7), page 1
Also by Whitney Dineen
The Mimi Chronicles
The Reinvention of Mimi Finnegan
Mimi Plus Two
Kindred Spirits
Relatively Series
Relatively Normal
Relatively Sane
Relatively Happy
Creek Water Series
The Event
The Move
The Plan
The Dream
Seven Brides for Seven Mothers Series
Love is a Battlefield
Ain’t She Sweet
It’s My Party
You’re So Vain
Head Over Feet
Queen of Hearts
At Last
She Sins at Midnight
Going Up?
Love for Sale
The Accidentally in Love Series (with Melanie Summers)
Text Me on Tuesday
The Text God
Text Wars
Text in Show
Mistle Text
Text and Confused
A Gamble on Love Mom-Com Series (with Melanie Summers)
No Ordinary Hate
A Hate Like This
Hate, Rinse, Repeat (Coming soon)
Conspiracy Thriller
See No More
Non-Fiction Humor
Motherhood, Martyrdom & Costco Runs
Middle Reader
Wilhelmina and the Willamette Wig Factory
Who the Heck is Harvey Stingle?
Children’s Books
The Friendship Bench
Queen of Hearts
Whitney Dineen
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, locales, and situations are the work of the author’s overactive imagination and the voices in her head. Any resemblance to people living or dead, events, etc., is purely coincidental. And I don’t mean maybe.
Copyright © by Whitney Dineen in 2022; all rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, copied, scanned, photographed, or distributed in print or electronic form without express permission of the author. But let’s face it, if you love it, she’ll probably let you share small portions. You still have to contact her first.
Made in the United States. October, 2022
ISBN: 9798355398590
Ebook Edition ASIN: B09X3MKB33
https://whitneydineen.com/newsletter/
33 Partners Publishing
Dedicated to my friend, Kathryn Biel, who
wrote a fabulous book with the same title.
Thanks for sharing with me, Kate!
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
Epilogue
Coming Soon: At Last
Available Now: Relatively Normal
In the Light of a New Day
About the Author
Chapter One
Amelia
Not everyone can say their daughter is working for the future king. While Amelia certainly had those bragging rights about Agnes, it does little to settle her. Perhaps she’d feel better after she did a little research about Prince Andrew.
Picking up an Elegant World magazine sitting on the coffee table in front of her, Amelia flips through its pages until she finds the article written about the crown prince of Malquar.
Settling her teacup on the Queen Anne side table, she starts to read, hoping to discover more about the kind of man Agnes is working for.
Prince Andrew of Malquar is a conundrum to the European community. He is of an age where his parents are surely expecting him to wed (36!), and there is a plethora of young and not-so-young ladies alike that would love to be his wife, yet there are no signs of him settling down.
While all of Europe has delighted in the romances of the Malquarian royals, none of those unions are nearly as exciting as learning who their future queen will be.
The current and beloved monarch, Queen Charlotte, was not of royal or even genteel birth. She was the daughter of a humble florist. Her modest beginnings surely give hope to all the young ladies of the realm. If only Andrew would start looking.
Although the prince has been linked with the likes of Princess Arpel of Chandry, Lady Helen Swank of Wales, and Charmaine Dacquoise (daughter to shipping tycoon Hermes Dacquoise), none of the ladies has been escorted by the prince on more than three occasions. The fourth date appears to be the magic number that firmly declares intent of a serious connection.
In recent months, we’ve watched Andrew take on more and more royal responsibilities as King Alfred has declared that he’d like to spend more time with his wife. While we applaud the king for his ongoing love affair with his queen, we can’t help but wonder what’s taking Andrew so long to find his own.
A zing of anticipation shoots through Amelia as she studies the many glossy photographs that accompany the article. None of the women the prince has dated can hold a candle to her daughter in beauty or elegance. Agnes is as tall and slim as a fashion model. With her delicate features and naturally platinum blonde hair, Andrew would have to be blind not to take notice of her.
Picking up the telephone on the table in front of her, Amelia dials the number for her new friend and neighbor of many years. “Jacqui, it’s me. Didn’t you say something about Queen Charlotte wanting to get together for tea?”
Agnes
“Sir, I have the update you requested on McMillian.” In the month that I’ve been Prince Andrew’s secretary, I can count on one hand the number of times he’s looked at me when I’m speaking. Currently, I’m attempting to communicate with his back.
Waving his hand in the air in what can only be construed as a dismissive manner, he says, “Leave it on my desk and I’ll read it later.”
“It’s not a written update.” Try as I might, I can’t keep the edge from my voice. While the rest of the royal family treat me kindly, Andrew has never been so inclined. He acts like I’m his own personal robot who doesn’t require basic courtesy.
He continues to face the window, allowing me the opportunity to study him. He’s taller than most at three inches over six feet, with proud broad shoulders, and short dark hair so thick a bird could nest in it—there’s something about my new boss’s appearance that brings to mind Disney’s Prince Charming. It was Cinderella who had the bird fetish, right?
“Then put it in writing and leave it on my desk.” The sharpness of his tone snatches me from the precipice of the illusion that Andrew might have Charming’s personality. No, nothing charming here.
“Yes, sir.” I shift on my heels as I start to feel a blister forming. These infernal stilettos. I could wear sporting shoes to work for all Prince Andrew would ever notice. “Will that be all, sir?”
He abruptly turns around and glares at me, his penetrating brown eyes practically nailing me to the floor. “No, that’s not all. Will McMillian be coming back to work soon?”
“Um … well … I wouldn’t think so. He’s still in San Francisco receiving treatments for his Parkinson’s disease.”
The prince grunts loudly. “Has his replacement been found yet?”
Is this guy a moron? “I’m his replacement, sir. I thought you knew that.” My spine straightens, making me very close to his own height with my new shoes.
“I was under the impression you were a temp.” His eyebrow cocks in such a supercilious manner, it’s all I can do not to punch him.
“I started out that way, but I was informed last week that I was doing such a good job I was being made a permanent member of your staff.” Put that in your pipe …
“Who told you that?” he demands angrily. Instead of letting me answer that the Master of Household himself told me, Andrew continues, “As far as I’m concerne d, you are not permanent.”
How in the world am I supposed to respond to that? The whole point of me working in the royal household is to make a strong enough connection to open my own employment agency. Once I do that, I’ll be able to supply staff to the palace. The only way that’s going to happen is to impress my current boss. The same man who appears to hate me.
So, while I want to take my shoe off and smack Andrew over the head with the sharp pointed heel, I force myself to ask, “Is there something you’d like me to do that I’m not currently doing?”
His glare darkens as he takes a step forward. I stand rooted to the floor, unable to look away. “You’re a woman.”
“How astute of you.” Yes, my response is snotty, but I’ve had just about enough of being treated like a disposable entity by this patronizing man.
“Excuse me?” Another step.
“Prince Andrew, my being a woman in no way hinders my ability to perform my duties with precision. In fact, I would argue that my being a woman makes me more efficient.”
“How do you figure that?” How in the world did I have a crush on this arrogant beast throughout my entire adolescence? I don’t care how gorgeous he is, the prince is not a nice man. Let me rephrase that. He’s not nice to me. He seems to love everyone else.
“Women are much better multi-taskers than men.” I raise one finger in the air to start ticking off my points. Another finger goes up. “We’re very attuned to details …” More join in. “We’re empathetic, nurturing, and are able to see more than what is required of us.” If I don’t stop talking now, I may truly be out of a job.
“And you’re saying these qualities are inherent to your sex? That men do not possess them?” If he walks any closer to me, he’ll be standing behind me.
I force my gaze up to meet his. “That’s what I’m saying.”
“Prove it.”
I reach up and pick an invisible piece of fluff from his collar. “Your shirt is starting to fray.” I turn my gaze back to his in a challenging manner. “Your valet is a man, is he not?”
“You know he is.”
“If your valet were a woman, you would be wearing an impeccable shirt with no sign of wear.” That may or may not be an accurate statement as I’ve made up the sorry condition of his apparel. It appears that women can also be liars when it suits them.
“Are you now applying for the job of my valet?” I know he’s being facetious, but I can’t help the stirring I feel at the thought of what that job would entail. Assisting Andrew in the bath or shower if needed, helping him to go from a naked state to a clothed one, undressing him for bed at night … It’s getting hot in here.
“I don’t want Finnley’s job. I’m merely saying that women are more detail oriented. That’s all.”
“I leave my bedchamber at eight o’clock every morning.”
“How lovely for you.” I mean, seriously, what else am I going to say?
“You will now meet me there at seven forty-five and inspect my clothing for any imperfections before I start my day.”
“But I don’t come to work until nine.” Surely, he doesn’t expect me to get here early to make sure another member of his staff is doing his job.
“You now arrive at seven thirty so that you can get to my rooms by seven forty-five.” He leans down so menacingly, if he were a tiger, I’d be afraid for my life. “That is, if you want to keep your position. If you’re unable to do so, I’ll gladly hire a man to replace you.”
So that’s his game. He’s actively looking for a way to get rid of me. If the success of my future agency wasn’t on the line, I’d turn around and walk out of his office without a backward glance. Unfortunately, that action will not aid my plans. “Would you like me to bring your coffee up with me?” I mean, hell, if I’m moonlighting as his valet’s helper, maybe he wants me to take on some kitchen duties.
“I think I can trust the kitchen to deliver my coffee.” He cocks his head to the side, before adding, “Unless you care to complain about them, as well.”
I shake my head vigorously, hoping to activate some good sense. I really don’t need to get into any more trouble. I look at my watch and see that it’s nearing five. “If I’m expected back here so early, I’ll head out now.”
“I’m afraid I’ll still need you here until six o’clock every day.”
Being that I’ve never seen him past our four o’clock meeting since the day I started working for him, I’m certain this is a lie. Which of course can only mean one thing.
Prince Andrew has just declared war on me.
Chapter Two
Queen Charlotte
“How are things going with Drew’s new secretary?” King Alfred asks his wife while helping her latch her necklace for dinner.
“I don’t know, and it’s been driving me crazy. Every time I try to enquire, that son of ours acts like his lips have been sewn shut.”
“Maybe he’s not taken with Agnes. I know you’re looking at her as a potential mate for Drew, but I don’t think he agrees with you.”
Charlotte turns in her husband’s arms and reaches up to kiss his chin. “Then you’re missing the subtleties in his behavior.”
“I don’t think I am,” the king counters.
“Andrew is always surly whenever Agnes is around.”
Releasing a short burst of laughter, Alfred asks, “Which means he wants to marry her?”
“Which means,” Charlotte says, “she affects him.”
“I hate to beat a dead horse, but maybe he just doesn’t like her.”
“Alfred, if he didn’t like her, he would act indifferently, instead of annoyed all the time.”
“Charlotte, my love,” the king pulls his wife closer, “I think you see things where you want to see things.”
“I’m sorry, but who was it who helped Alistair and Aubrey find their mates?”
“I know you’ve played an important part in two of our children finding love, but that doesn’t mean you’ll be successful with Andrew.”
Charlotte crosses her arms in front of her, effectively pushing her husband back a couple of steps. “Do you want to put a wager on that?”
Smiling lovingly at her, Alfred says, “I do not wager against my wife. I know you can do anything you set your mind to, so if you’re determined something of a romantic nature happen between our son and his secretary, I’ll do everything I can to support that outcome.”
“That kind of thinking is exactly why you’re so happily married.” Charlotte steps into her husband’s arms. Laying her head against his chest, she adds, “I’m not saying Agnes is the one. All I’m saying is that I have a strong feeling she might be.”
Prince Andrew
Agnes Dupuis is going to drive me insane. It’s not that she doesn’t do her job well—she certainly does that. It’s just that she’s so, so … I hate to admit this to myself, but it’s because she’s so beautiful. Spending time with her preoccupies me to the point where it’s become difficult for me to focus on whatever task is at hand.
I know a lot of people think that being a prince is no big deal as far as work goes. In their eyes it’s just one big party after another. But being the heir is an entirely different story. While my siblings host, show up to, or lend their names to certain events, that’s all they have to do.
Meanwhile, I have actual governmental responsibilities in addition to being seen at all major affairs in our capitol. Now, I’ve gone and made my life even more stressful by scheduling more time with my secretary.
