Crowned: An Ordinary Girl

And she couldn’t, wouldn’t, leave him to flounder alone. As much as she hated the thought of going to Andovaria, she loved Peter and Eliana more. She owed them something for what they’d done for her.

More than something. Marianne took a sip of water. They’d taken her in, pregnant and scared, when her own mother had not. She owed them everything. She took another mouthful of ice cream and let her eyes wander to Seb’s handsome profile. Supremely confident, charismatic and charming. He really had no idea of the fate he’d left her to.

What would Seb say if he knew he’d left her expecting their baby?

Had he ever thought to wonder what had happened to her? Or had he really returned to Andovaria and his royal responsibilities without sparing her a moment’s consideration?

What kind of conversation would they be having now if little Jessica had lived?

In many ways nature had known best. It hurt her to think it, but at eighteen she’d been hopelessly ill-prepared to take on the responsibility of a child. The logical part of her brain accepted that, even while her heart probably never would. Eliana had spent hours talking her through…everything. Patiently helping her manage emotions she’d not had the life skills to even begin to deal with.

First, there’d been the pregnancy itself and her mother’s inability to cope with her ‘perfect’ daughter’s fall from grace.

And then the stillbirth. The heartbreaking scan. The long hours of labour which had resulted in a perfectly formed baby girl—born asleep, as the euphemism went.

Marianne covertly studied His Serene Highness Prince Sebastian II. Their baby. She and Seb had created a little girl—and he didn’t even know.

She reached out for her water glass and took a sip, carefully placing it back down on the table. Eliana believed all men had the right to know if they were about to become a father…

Sometimes she wondered…if Jessica had lived long enough to be born safely, whether she’d ever have told him. At eighteen she’d been adamant he’d never know, but that had been her hurt talking. The first photographs of the about-to-be-enthroned Prince of Andovaria with his dark-haired fiancée had been cataclysmic. Like a switch flicking inside her—love to hate in a moment.

She sat back in her chair. But…eventually she might have told him. Perhaps. When Jessica had grown old enough to decide whether she wanted the poisoned chalice of being universally known as the illegitimate daughter of a European prince—with a mother he’d not considered worth marrying.

It was an academic question. There’d been no baby past the seventh month of her pregnancy. Marianne could feel the pain now, shooting through her—as it always did whenever she was reminded of Jessica. The sense of failure. And the emptiness that pervaded everything—and had done for practically her entire adult life.

She watched as Seb reached for his wine glass. He’d no idea. No understanding of how comprehensively he’d wrecked her life. And how she’d never forgive him.

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