Marion Lennox - Crowned: The Palace Nanny

A book in the Marrying His Majesty series, 2009

DRELSALANGHAM disappeared after a car accident four years ago. Mrs Elsa Murdoch took her place.

The invitation had been sitting on the table all day, a taunting reminder of her past.

The International Coral Society invites Dr Elsa Langham, foremost authority on Coral: Alcyonacea, to submit a paper at this years symposium in Hawaii.

The ICS hadnt kept up with her change in direction. Eight-year-old Zoe was asleep in the next room, totally dependent on her, and Dr Elsa Langham was no longer an acclaimed authority on anything.

She read the invitation one last time, sighed and finally dumped it in the bin.

I dont know why theyre still sending me invitations, she told the skinny black cat slinking out from under her chair. Im Mrs Elsa Murdoch, a mother to Zoe, an occasional student of starfish to keep my scientific hand in, and my cats need feeding.

She rose and took a bowl of cat food to the back garden. The little cat followed, deeply suspicious but seduced by the smell of supper.

Four more cats were waiting. Elsa explained the terms of their tenancy as she did every night, fed them, then ignored five feline glares as she locked them up for the night. They knew the deal, but they didnt have to like it.

At least you guys go free every morning, she told them. You can do what you want during the day.

And so could she, she told herself. She could take Zoe to the beach. She could study starfish. She could be Mrs Elsa Murdoch.

Until a miracle happens, she thought to herself, pausing to look up at the night sky. Not that I need a miracle. I really love Zoe, I dont mind starfish and Im incredibly lucky to be alive. Its justI wouldnt mind a bit of magic. Like a rainbow of coral to appear in our cove. Or Prince Charming to wave his wand and take away my debts and Zoes scars.

Enough. The cats werent interested in wishes, and neither was anyone else. She smiled ruefully into the night, turned her back on her disgruntled cats and went inside. She needed to fix a blocked sink.

Where was Prince Charming when you needed him?

The little boy would live.

Prince Stefanos Antoniadis-Dr Steve to his patients-walked out of Theatre savouring a combination of triumph and exhaustion. Hed won.

The boys mother-a worn-looking woman with no English, but with a smile wide enough to cut through any language barrier-hugged him and cried, and Stefanos hugged her back and felt his exhaustion disappear.

He felt fantastic.

He walked into the scrub room, sorely tempted to punch the air in triumph-and then stopped dead.

This wasnt fantastic. This was trouble.

Two months ago, King Giorgos of the Diamond Isles had died without an heir. Next in line to the throne of the Mediterranean island of Khryseis was Stefanoss cousin, Christos. The only problem was, no one could find Christos. Worse, if Christos couldnt be found, the throne belonged to Stefanos-who wanted the crown like a hole in the head.

In desperation hed employed a friend who moved in diplomatic circles and whose discretion he trusted absolutely to search internationally for Christos. That his friend was here to tell him the news in person meant there must be a major problem.

They told me youve been opening a kids skull, chopping bits out and sticking it back together, his friend said with easy good humour. How hards that? Seven hours

I get paid by the hour, Stefanos said, grasping his friends hand. But he couldnt make himself smile. What news?

From your point of view? As an investigator this man was the best, and he knew the issues involved. Youre not Crown Prince of Khryseis.

Not! He closed his eyes. The relief was almost overwhelming.

It hadnt always been like this. As a boy, Stefanos had even dreamed of inheriting the throne that his almost pathologically shy cousin swore he didnt want.

But that was in the past. King Giorgos was bound to have sons, and if notChristos would just have to wear it. Almost twenty years ago, Stefanos had moved to the States to pursue a medical career. His dream since then had been to perfect and teach surgical techniques, so wounds such as the ones hed treated today could be repaired in hospitals less specialised than this one, anywhere in the world. So youve finally found Christos? he asked, feeling the weight of the world lift from his shoulders.

Sort of, his friend said, but there was something in his face which made Stefanoss jubilation fade. His expression said that whatever was coming wasnt good.

Christos is dead, Steve, the man said gently. In a car accident in Australia, four years ago. Thats why you havent been able to find him.

Dead. He stared at his friend in horror. Christos? My cousin. Why? How?

You know he left the island soon after you? Apparently he and his mother emigrated to Australia. Neither of them kept in touch. It seems his mother held his funeral with no fuss, and contacted no one back on Khryseis. Three months after he died, so did she.

Dear God.

Its the worst of news, his friend said. He hesitated. But theres more.

Stefanos knew it. He was replaying their conversation in his head. His friends first words had been, Youre not Crown Prince of Khryseis.

Christos had been first in line to the throne, followed by Stefanos. But Christos was dead. Therefore it had to be Stefanos. Unless

Theres a child, his friend told him.

A child, he said numbly.

A little girl. Christos married, but his wife was killed in the same accident. Their child survived. She was four when her parents were killed. Shes now eight.

Stefanos didnt respond. He was staring at his friend, but he was seeing nothing.

He was working on groundbreaking surgical techniques. His work here was vital.

A child.

Her names Zoe, his friend said. Shes still living in Australia with a woman called Mrs Elsa Murdoch, who seems to be employed as her nanny. But, Steve

Yes? But he already knew what was coming.

Christoss death means the child takes the Crown, he said gently. Zoes now the Crown Princess of Khryseis. That means youre Prince Regent.

Stefanos still didnt answer. There was a chasm opening before him-a gaping void where his career used to be. He could only listen while his friend told him what hed learned.

Ive done some preliminary checks. From what I gather of the islands constitution, youll be in charge until Zoes twenty-five. The islands rule, and the consequent care of your cousin as Crown Princess, lies squarely on your shoulders. Nowdo you want me to find an address for this woman called Elsa?

ROYALTY was standing on Elsas beach.

Sunlight was shimmering from the surface of a turquoise sea. The tide was at its lowest for months. Their beach was a mass of rock pools and there were specimens everywhere.

Theyd swum far out to the buoy marking the end of shallow water and a pod of dolphins had nosed in to check them out. Theyd dived for starfish. Theyd floated lazily in the shallows; floating eased the nagging ache in Elsas hip as nothing else could. Finally theyd made each other crowns out of seaweed pods, and now Queen Elsa and her consort, Princess Zoe, were marching back to the house for lunch and a nap.

To find royalty waiting for them. Royalty without seaweed.

For a moment Elsa thought shed been out in the sun too long. The man was dressed like a prince from one of Zoes picture books. His uniform was black as night, tailored to perfection. His slick-fitting suit was adorned with crimson epaulettes, tassels, braid and medals. His jacket and the top collar of his shirt were unbuttoned, but for some reason that made him look even more princely.