A Duchess with a Secret (The Montevor Royals Saga #9)

Chapter 1

EVA

“He’s here,” Millie whispers.

I don’t look. I don’t need to.

The man she’s warning me about radiates a chill so palpable I can sense which door he entered through. The air in Fort Vauclairt’s reception hall, warmed by hundreds of flickering candles and the breath of mourners grows colder by the second.

Of course, Alex would show up! Nothing like a funeral to size up how much of the estate he can have, just because he happens to share the same father as Geoffroy.

I’m being unfair, I know.

After all, Alex is the old duke’s second son. In neighboring France, the math prodigy would’ve inherited half of the duchy when Rodolphe passed.

Then again, there are no dukes or duchies in the Republic of France, nor are we subject to its laws.

We’re old school in Mount Evor. Here, the principles of primogeniture and representation still reign supreme.

The firstborn takes it all. The child comes before the sibling.

With both Geoffroy and Julian gone, Millie’s birthright ensures that she inherits everything.

The only way Alex Castellane gets a chunk of the estate is if Geoffroy named him in his will. Which I know he didn’t. My late husband and his younger half brother had been estranged long before I met and married Geoffroy Castellane, a dashing widower twice my age.

Alex will get nothing or next to nothing. And Millie will be the next Duchess of Rohinn.

He knows this, of course he does. Yet he carries his tall, infuriatingly well-proportioned form with confidence, which lends an air of legitimacy to his potential claims.

Ugh! I truly can’t stand him!

Alex catches me staring. I shift my gaze to the stone wall, where Rodolphe’s portrait, alongside those of the dukes before him, looms over us. It strikes me that Geoffroy’s official portrait will need to move from his office to this wall, next to his father’s.

Am I sad that Geoffroy is gone?

Yes. I was shocked when they told me about the crash. For years, I believed a part of me still loved him, despite everything. But now… Standing here, I must admit Julian’s loss cuts deeper than my husband’s. My stepson might’ve been vain and shallow, but he didn’t have a twisted mind.

Realizing I mourn him more than my husband stirs a pang of guilt. Then I remember the cold contempt in Geoffroy’s eyes after he broke me down, yet again, the night before he died. That bitter memory burns the guilt away completely.

Millie leans against me lightly, her fingers brushing mine. She’s holding up better than I expected. No tears since this morning. She looks fine, too. She is fine, I remind myself. Most days, anyway.

Right now, she carries herself with the poise of an adult.

Except, of course, she isn’t. My baby is only fourteen.

I wish she didn’t have to “be strong” after losing her father and her beloved half brother.

But here in Rohinn, even more so than in Mount Evor at large, one learns to suppress emotions from an early age.

Especially when one is the future lady of Rohinn.

My delicate little girl has a will of iron.

She was only eight when she made me, her father, her grandmother, and her half brother swear on the Bible that no one would ever know about her condition.

We’ve honored her wish. Besides her doctors and us, not a soul in Rohinn knows about Millie’s weekly injections or occasional hospital stays.

“My dearest Eva!” Someone touches my arm, pulling me from my thoughts.

Another round of condolences follows. Then another. It’s just like at church this morning, except now, with the burials complete, there are no caskets to focus on during this ritual. Closed caskets, to be precise.

The crash left Geoffroy and Julian so disfigured it was advised that the family not view them. There was nothing recognizable left to see.

The chauffeur’s body fared slightly better. His family agreed to an autopsy before the funeral, which will take place later. I’ll cover the costs, naturally.

Another hand clasps mine—warm, forgettable. I offer a faint smile, nod, and say thank you. I tell them that yes, he was a wonderful husband and a devoted father.

It’s the truth.

Well, the latter part, at any rate.

A hush ripples through the mourners. Heels shift on the marble floor. Fabric rustles against velvet chairs as people rise. Even before I hear the murmurs of “His Royal Highness,” I know who has arrived.

I straighten, locking my spine into place as I prepare to curtsy deeply but gracefully.

My mother trained me well.

Crown Prince Theodor and Princess Elise step into the aisle, their black coats buttoned high.

Their entourage hovers at a respectful distance.

Theodor’s fire-scarred face has patches of stubble he’d never display in public under normal circumstances.

Elise wears flats. They must’ve come straight from the hospital.

The royals walk toward Millie and me but pause. For him.

Alex stands beside the notary a few feet away. He turns as the royals near, his expression unreadable.

Grr, that stillness of his!

Prince Theodor extends his hand. “Monsieur Castellane. Please accept our condolences, on behalf of the royal family.”

“Thank you,” Alex replies evenly.

Not “Your Royal Highness.” Not even “Your Highness.” Just a nod and “thank you” as if he’s accepting sympathies from a colleague at work.

Elise touches his arm. “We were devastated to hear about your brother and nephew.”

Alex inclines his head before asking, “How is Princess Felicia?”

“Same,” Theodor replies.

They move on to my mother-in-law, Brigitte, sitting by the wall with a glass of white wine she’s been topping off all afternoon. She begins to heave herself up, but Theodor gestures for her to stay seated.

Defying protocol, the prince and princess lean down and hug Brigitte.

It dawns on me that from now on, my official title is dowager duchess. Most will still address me as “Your Grace” out of courtesy. Others, starting with the estate manager, will switch to “Lady Castellane.”

Brigitte thanks the royals, tears streaming down her wrinkled face. I feel for her. Unlike me, she’s genuinely shattered. She lost her only child and her grandson, both of whom she adored. “So young! Too young to go!” she said. It’s been her mantra set on repeat since the accident.

While true for Julian, I don’t consider Geoffroy’s sixty-two all that young—not from my thirty-five, anyway. But at eighty-seven, when your son and grandson beat you to the grave…

God, I wouldn’t wish that on anyone! Certainly not on Brigitte. Despite turning a blind eye to her son’s deviousness, she’s never been unkind to me. Actually, she’s been kinder than my parents.

When the royals reach Millie and me, I begin to curtsy.

“Oh, please, Eva,” Elise mutters and pulls me into a warm embrace.

Theodor offers words of comfort to Millie, then to me. “We’re so sorry for your loss, Eva!”

“I can’t tell you how much your presence means to me,” I say as Elise hugs Millie. “Especially with everything going on.”

Theodor sighs. “It’s the least we could do.”

“How is Princess Felicia?” I ask, hoping for more details than they gave Alex.

“We just left her,” Elise says. “She’s stable for now, but no change.”

“Mother is still unconscious,” Theodor adds. “The doctors are uncertain about her long-term prognosis.”

My throat constricts. “I’m so sorry!”

He nods briskly. “Her driver passed this morning.”

“I didn’t know.” My hand finds Millie’s shoulder.

Along with Geoffroy, Julian, and Geoffroy’s chauffeur, which makes four lives taken to make sure Princess Felicia wouldn’t survive.

The police have been very tight-lipped about the investigation, and I still don’t know whether Geoffroy or Julian were targets, too.

From what little I’ve heard, it seems Felicia was the sole target.

I don’t understand it. Who would want a beloved royal, not in line for the throne, dead so badly they’d kill four other people to ensure it? And why?

“We won’t keep you,” Elise says. “We just wanted you to know we’re thinking of you. Both of you!”

Millie and I bow and thank them. They move on. A camera clicks. Whispers drift.

Alex is still here, watching me with that insufferable poise.

Those dark, piercing eyes—so like Geoffroy’s!

Same Greek nose and flawless jawline, inherited from the old duke.

If Alex had Geoffroy’s easy smile and charm, he’d pass for his younger clone.

And, if his resemblance to Geoffroy extends to character, then behind that handsome facade lurks one ugly monster of a soul.

I return to the next mourner, accepting their condolences with all the grace and decorum Mother drilled into me. But inside I’m a mess. I can’t shake the suspicion that something’s coming.

Something I won’t like.

And it has Alex Castellane’s name written all over it.