with each passing day.
“Thank you for breakfast,” he said in Greek. “If you two will excuse me, I have some business, but I’ll be back.” He kissed his petite daughter, who was playing with her roll instead of eating it. “Be good for Yiayia.”
Zoe nodded.
After bowing to his grandmother, he left her suite and hurried downstairs to his office in the other part of the palace. He’d wanted to meet this Mrs. Richards last evening, but Hector had told him she’d never ridden in a helicopter before and had become ill during the flight. There’d been nothing he could do but wait until this morning and wonder if her getting sick was already a bad omen.
He knew better than to ask Hector what she was like. His assistant would simply answer, “That’s not for me to say, Your Highness.” His tendency not to gossip was a sterling quality Alex admired, but at times it drove Stasio insane.
For years his elder brother had barked at Hector that he wasn’t quite human. Alex had a theory that the reason why Hector irked Stasio was because Stasio had grown up knowing that one day he’d have to be king. Hector was a permanent reminder that Stasio’s greatest duty was to his country, to marry Princess Beatriz and produce heirs to the throne.
Like the queen, who wanted more great-grandchildren for the glory of Hellenica, Alex looked forward to his brother producing some cousins for Zoe. His little girl would love a baby around. She’d asked Alex for a sister, but all he could say was that her uncle Stasi would produce a new heir to the throne before long.
After reaching his office, he scowled when he read the fax sent from Stasio, who was still in Valleder. Sorry, little brother, but banking business will keep me here another week. Tell Yiayia I’ll be home soon. Give Zoe a hug from her uncle. Hang in there. You do great work. Stasi.
“Your Highness? May I present Mrs. Richards.”
He threw his head back. Hector had come in the office without him being aware of it and was now clearing his throat. A very American-looking woman—down to the way she carried herself—had entered with him, taller than average, with her light brown hair swept up in a loose knot. Alex was so disappointed, even angered by his brother’s news, he’d forgotten for a moment that Hector was on his way down. Stasio had taken advantage of their bargain.
“One month, little brother,” he’d said when he’d left. “That’s all I need to carry out some lucrative banking negotiations. Philippe is helping me.” But Stasio had been gone much longer and Alex wasn’t happy about it. Neither was the queen, the prime minister or the archbishop, who were getting anxious to confer with him about the coronation and royal nuptials coming up soon.
Pushing his feelings aside, Alex got to his feet. “Welcome to Hellenica, Mrs. Richards.”
“Thank you, Your Highness.”
She gave an awkward curtsey, no doubt coached by Hector. He hated to admit she looked fresh, appealing even, as she stood there in a pale blue blouse and skirt that tied at her slender waist, drawing his attention to the feminine curves revealed above and below. He hadn’t meant to stare, but his eyes seemed to have a will of their own as they took in her long, shapely legs.
Alex quickly shifted his gaze to her face and was caught off guard again by the wide, sculpted mouth and the cornflower-blue of her eyes. They reminded him of the cornflowers growing wild alongside larkspurs on Aurum Island where he normally lived.
He missed his private palace there where he conducted the mining interests for the monarchy, away from Hellenica. The big island drew the tourists in hordes, Aurum not quite so much. He shouldn’t mind tourists since they were one of his country’s greatest financial resources, but with his daughter in such distress, everything bothered him these days. Especially the woman standing in front of him.
A speech therapist could come in any size and shape. He just hadn’t expected this woman, period. For one thing, she looked too young for the task ahead of her. No wonder Hector hadn’t dropped a clue about her.
“I’ve been told you suffered on your helicopter ride. I hope you’re feeling better.”
“Much better, thank you. The view was spectacular.”
One dark brow dipped. “What little you saw of it in your condition.”
“Little is right,” she acknowledged in a forthright manner. “I’m sorry your generous attempt to show me the sights in your helicopter didn’t have the desired outcome.” Her blunt way of speaking came as a surprise. “Will I be meeting your daughter this morning?”
“Yes.” He flicked his glance to Hector. “Would you ask Sofia to bring Zoe to us?”
The older man gave a brief bow and slipped out of the office, leaving the two of them alone. Alex moved closer and invited her to sit down on the love seat. “Would you care for tea or coffee?”
“Nothing for me. I just had some tea. It’s settling my stomach, but please have some yourself if you want it.”
If he wanted it? She was more of a surprise than ever and seemed at ease, which wasn’t always the case with strangers meeting him.
“My boss, Dr. Rice, told me your daughter is having trouble communicating, but he didn’t give me any details. How long since your wife passed away?”
“Two years ago.”
“And now Zoe is four. That means she wouldn’t have any memory of her mother except what you’ve told her, and of course pictures. Did your wife carry Zoe full term?”
“No. She came six weeks early and was in the hospital almost a month. I feared we might lose her, but she finally rallied. I thought that could be the reason why she’s been a little slower to make herself understood.”
“Was her speech behind from infancy?”
“I don’t really know what’s normal. Not having been around children before, I had no way to compare her progress. All I know is her speech is difficult to understand. The queen and I are used to her, but over the past few months her behaviour’s become so challenging, we’ve lost her art, English and dance teachers and three nannies. Her Greek tutor has all but given up and she’s too much for the teacher to handle at her preschool.”
“It’s usually the caregiver who first notices if there’s a problem. Would that have been your wife?”
“Yes, but a lot of the time she was ill with a bad heart and the nanny had to take over. I took charge in the evenings after my work, but I hadn’t been truly alarmed about Zoe until two weeks ago when I had to withdraw her from preschool. As I told you earlier, I’d assumed that being a premature baby, she simply hadn’t caught up yet.”
“Has she had her normal checkup with the pediatrician?”
“Yes.”
“No heart problem with her.”
He shook his dark head. “I even took her to my own internist for a second opinion. Neither doctor found anything physically wrong with her, but they gave me the name of a child psychiatrist to find out if something else is going on to make her behind in her speech. Before I did that, I decided to take Dr. Wyman’s advice. He recommended I take her to the Stillman Institute for a diagnosis before doing anything else.”
“I see. What kind of behavior does she manifest?”
“When it comes time for her lessons lately, Zoe has tantrums and cries hysterically. All she wants to do is hide in her bed or run to her great-grandmother’s suite for comfort.”
“What about her appetite?”
This morning Zoe had taken only a few nibbles of her breakfast, another thing that had alarmed him. “Not what it should be.”
She studied his features as if she were trying to see inside him. “You must be frantic.”
Frantic? “Yes,” he murmured.