Free Princess Ever After (Royal Wedding Series) by Rachel Hauck Page A

Hessenberg. Become familiar with the capital city, Strauberg, and the palace, Meadowbluff. Prepare to take the Oath of the Throne. Meet with government leaders.
    All to return a small duchy to full nation status? Her heart pinged with increasing alarm. The paper shimmied and wavered in her cold, trembling hands. A second later she couldn’t concentrate enough to read.
    “Mr. Burkhardt,”—she let the paper drift down to the table—“I–I don’t understand. How is it possible I can do any of these things?”
    “Because you are Princess Alice’s great-granddaughter.” He pointed to a line of the summary. “She’s the direct descendant of one Oscar Augustine, who freed the duchy from Prussian rule in 1602. He asserted himself as the Grand Duke of Hessenberg, ajewel floating on the surface of the ore-enriched North Sea. The people were serfs in the beginning, but he organized the land into farms and mines, established a constitution and parliament. The people prospered.
    “But in the end, Hessenberg was owned by the House of Augustine-Saxon. When the Grand Duke Prince Francis, your great-grandmother’s uncle, gave her up to Brighton, he abdicated his throne and legal rights to the land for one hundred years.”
    The picture was becoming clear. “Then the House of Augustine-Saxon gets to come roaring back.”
    “If the proper heir was found.”
    “And that proper heir is me.”
    “Yes, miss, ’tis you.”
    “Okay, I’ll see you later.” Reggie headed for the front door without offering a by-your-leave or kiss-my-grits.
    From the kitchen, Sadie made a racket wrenching her cookie sheets from the bottom cupboard. Reggie never could figure how the woman managed to bury the baking tools she used the most. But that was her stepmama.
    “Reg?” Daddy called.
    “Miss Beswick, please, wait.” Mr. Burkhardt hurried after her.
    Reggie moved faster. A dog with a bone, that man. “I’ve got to go.”
    A princess? An oath? A coronation? It was laughable. If Mr. Burkhardt wasn’t so darn serious, she’d swear someone was punking her.
    No woman Reggie ever knew dreamed of being a princess after the age of twelve. Well, except for Mable Torres, who wanted to be Miss Springtime Tallahassee. And Christi Selby, who was crowned Miss Florida. But they were temporary princesses with no authority. Burkhardt was asking her to establish a country.
    A country!
    Down the front porch steps, Reggie made a beeline for her old ’78 Datsun, fumbling for the keys.
    “It’s overwhelming, isn’t it?” A bit of kindness, of empathy, tenderized Mr. Burkhardt’s words.
    “Look, Mr. Burkhardt—” Reggie tossed her bag into the passenger seat. “And, please, can I call you Tanner?”
    “Certainly.” He stopped next to her, hands locked behind his back.
    “I wouldn’t have a clue what to do with your country.” She regarded him in the bright white of Daddy’s driveway luminaries.
    “You won’t be alone, Miss Beswick.”
    “Please. Reggie. Call me Reggie.”
    “You’ll have advisors. We’ve functioned under a constitutional monarchy for hundreds of years, and we can do it again. On our own. We’ve a core of stellar leaders to assist you. King Nathaniel II and his prime minister will advise and aid you in every way. As well as our own governor.”
    Daddy’s dark silhouette appeared on the porch. Watching. Waiting. Probably praying.
    “After the oath, then what?”
    “Sign the end of the entail.”
    “Then what?”
    He hesitated. “That would be up to you, Miss Beswick. Stay in Hessenberg as a reigning royal, reestablishing the House of Augustine-Saxon, helping to form our new government. Or abdicate and return home, leaving us to find our way without a royal house for the first time in our history. But we will be independent again, and most grateful.”
    “Abdicate? You mean quit? Sign me up to be a princess, then make me resign in order to return home to my life?” She jerked open the car door and the rusty hinges