The Runaway Princess by Hester Browne

Author:Hester Browne [Browne, Hester]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, General, C429, Extratorrents, Kat
ISBN: 9781439168851
Publisher: Quercus Books
Published: 2012-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Eighteen

I made my first solo appearance on the YoungHot&Royal website shortly after the weekend in Nirona. It was a bit of a wake-up call, to say the least. I’d had no idea that my hair had got so “out of control,” or that anyone would ever describe me as “mysterious.”

“But I’m the least mysterious person I know,” I protested to Jo, as we both stared at the home page in shock, transfixed by the banner headline “After Flora: Prince Leo’s Mysterious New Love Interest!” “How can they say I’m mysterious?”

“They mean they haven’t managed to find you on Facebook or in the back of Tatler.” Jo clicked on the comments box.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m leaving an anonymous comment to say you’re a natural beauty. Your hair doesn’t need a Brazilian blow-dry, we don’t all have to look like Middleton clones.”

“What? Where does it say that? Jo, have you read this page before? You have, haven’t you? You’ve been Googling us again! Show me.” I leaned forward, but Jo covered the screen with her hand.

“Nothing! It’s nothing. Go and make us a cup of tea.” She flapped her hand. “Go on. Tea.”

Reluctantly, I went through to the kitchen, trying not to let my imagination fill in the blanks.

Jo and I had repeated our solemn vow not to keep checking the royal gossip websites to see what they were saying about Rolf and Leo, but it was like accidentally eavesdropping on a conversation and hearing your own name mentioned, and then walking on by. As Jo said, only the virtuous or the very stupid wouldn’t care.

I was neither of those things, and I was freaked out, to say the least. Not just about what fashion verdict they’d slapped on my outfit (I was already regretting our gleeful hoots of derision at some of their comments about other royal girlfriends’ fashion mistakes) but what they’d managed to find out about me and, more to the point, my family.

When the photos of Jo and Rolf had been dissected on the site, they’d got a fair bit of mileage out of the Honorable Jo—between her various festival fringe shows, and her well-connected exes, and her frequently married parents, and her great-great-grandmother after whom the Prince of Wales’s fourth yacht was named (who knew?), there was a lot to hoot about. But they hadn’t found much to say about me with Leo until now, and we’d been dating for well over four months.

I stared blankly at the boiling kettle. Seeing this new post made something else fall into place. A photographer had been lurking around our house on and off for the past week; Jo had spotted him from the kitchen, and we’d left by the back door every day. He’d got bored by Thursday and rung the bell to ask to use the loo, but Mrs. Mainwaring had told him to get lost in very robust terms. It was a good job he hadn’t got Dickon’s bell, or he’d have been upstairs posing with just his long lens to cover his modesty before he could say “nudey angel.

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