Matched to a Prince

James motioned to the car. “I think it would be best if you came immediately.”

The summons wasn’t unexpected. It was either about a certain photograph portraying Finn doing Jägermeister shots off a gorgeous blonde’s bare stomach or about the corruption charges recently brought up against a couple of his running buddies.

A blogger had once joked that Finn’s official title should be Prince Alain Phineas of Montagne, House of Scandal. It wasn’t so funny to the king, who had tried to combat the negative press with a royal announcement proclaiming Finn’s upcoming marriage. A desperate ploy to get his son to settle down.

Hadn’t worked so far. Perhaps if his father could actually name a bride, the ploy might get some traction.

Finn paused. Maybe his father had picked someone. He hoped not. The longer he could put off the inevitable, the better.

But his life was never his own and whatever his father wanted, Finn would deal with it, like always.

Only one way to find out if he’d be announcing the name of his bride soon.

Finn allowed James to show him into the backseat of the town car his father used to fetch people and tried to swallow his dread. The Delamer Coast Guard administrative building disappeared behind them and Finn’s homeland unrolled through the windows.

Tourist season had officially started. Bright vendor booths lined the waterfront, selling everything from outrageously priced sunscreen to caricatures quickly drawn by sidewalk artists. Hand-holding couples wandered along the boardwalk and young mothers pushed strollers in the treed park across from the public beach.

There wasn’t a more beautiful place on earth, and Finn thanked God every day for the privilege of not only living here but the opportunity to serve its people. It was his duty, and he did it gladly.

Too soon, the car drove through the majestic wrought iron gates of the palace where Finn had grown up, and then moved out of as soon as his mother would allow it. He’d realized early on he was just in the way. The palace was the home of the king and queen, and eventually would house the crown prince and princess, Alexander and his wife, Portia.

Finn was so far down the line of succession, he couldn’t even see the head. It didn’t bother him. Most days.

A slew of workers scurried about the hundred acres of property surrounding the stately drive. Each employee focused on maintaining the famous four-tiered landscaping that ringed the central fountain bearing a statue of King Etienne the First, who had led Delamer’s secession from France two centuries ago.

Another solemn-faced servant led Finn to the office his father used for nonstate business. That was a relief. There’d be no formality then, and Finn could do without royal addresses and protocol any day.

When Finn entered, the king glanced up from paperwork strewn across his four-hundred-year-old desk, which had been a gift from a former president of the United States. Finn preferred gifts you could drink, especially if they came with a cork.

With a small smile, his father pushed his chair back and stood, gesturing to the brocade couch. “Thanks for coming, son. Apologies for the short notice.”

“No problem. I didn’t have any plans. What’s up?”

Since he didn’t mistake his father’s gesture for a suggestion, Finn perched on the fancy couch at a right angle to the desk.

King Laurent crossed his arms and leaned on the edge of his desk, facing Finn. “We need to move forward with finding you a wife.”

Called it in one.

Finn shifted against the stiff couch cushions, determined to find a comfortable spot. “I said I’d be happy with whomever you picked.”

A lie. He’d tolerate whomever his father picked.

If Finn and his bride ended up friends as his parents had, great. But it was a lot to ask in an arranged marriage. It wasn’t as though Finn could hold out for love, not when it hadn’t worked out the one and only time he’d allowed himself to care about a woman.

Juliet’s face, framed by her silky light brown hair, swam into his mind’s eye and he swallowed. A hundred blondes with a hundred shot glasses couldn’t erase the memory of the woman who’d betrayed him in the most public and humiliating way possible. He knew. He’d tried.

“Be that as it may,” the king said, “an option I hadn’t considered has come to my attention. A matchmaker.”

“A what?”

“An American matchmaker contacted me through my secretary. She asked for a chance to earn our business by doing a trial match. If you don’t like the results, she won’t charge us.”

Finn smelled something fishy, and if there was anything he knew after spending the majority of his day in or near the sea, it was fish. “I’m reasonably certain we can afford her fee regardless. Why would you consider this?”

Was this another ploy to get him under his father’s thumb? Had the king paid this matchmaker to orchestrate a match with a woman loyal to the crown, who could be easily controlled?

“This matchmaker introduced Stafford Walker to his wife. I’ve done enough business with him to know his recommendation is solid. If the woman hadn’t mentioned his name, I wouldn’t have given her idea a moment’s consideration.” His father sighed and rubbed the spot between his eyes wearily. “Son, I want you to be happy. I liked what she had to say about her selection process. You need someone specific, who will negate all the bad press. She promises to match you with the perfect woman to become your princess. It seemed like a fair deal.”

Guilt relaxed Finn’s rigid shoulders. “I’m sorry. You’ve been more than patient with me. I wish...”

He’d been about to say he wished he knew why he courted so much trouble. But the reason wasn’t a mystery. She had eyes the color of fresh grass, glowing skin and a stubborn streak wider than the palace gates.

Perhaps this matchmaker might find someone who could replace Juliet in his heart. It could happen.

“I’ve had this matchmaker, Elise Arundel, thoroughly checked out, but do your own research. If you don’t like the idea, don’t do it. But I’ve had little luck coming up with a potential bride on my own.” The king smiled, looking like his usual cheerful self for the first time since Finn had entered the room. “There’s no shortage of candidates. Just the lack of one who can handle you.”

Finn grinned back. “At least we agree on that.”

Because Finn took after his father. They both had big hearts and even bigger personalities. And the absolute sense of duty that came part and parcel with being royalty. They shared a love for Delamer and a love for the people they served.

His father managed to do it with grace and propriety. Finn, on the other hand, tended to whoop it up, and photographers loved to capture it. Of course, a photo could never depict the broken heart that drove him to search for a method, any method, to erase the pain.

He got all that and didn’t mind the idea of getting married, especially to save himself from a downward media spiral. Finding a woman he could love at the same time was an attractive bonus. Settling down and having babies appealed to him if he could do it with someone who gave him what he desperately wanted—a sheltered place all his own where he could be a man and not a prince, if only for a few hours.

The odds of a matchmaker pulling a name out of thin air who could do that...well, he’d do better betting a thousand on red and letting it ride.

“I’ll talk to Ms. Arundel.” Finn owed it to his father to figure out a way to stop causing him grief, and he owed it to his country to portray the House of Couronne positively in the international press. If it meant marrying the matchmaker’s choice and making the best of it, so be it.

Relief filled the king’s eyes and a double dose of guilt swam through Finn’s stomach. His father loved him and wanted the best for him. Why couldn’t Finn do the right thing as his brother always did? Alexander would be king one day and constantly kept that forefront in his mind. His behavior was above reproach and he never caused their parents a moment’s worry.

Finn, on the other hand, was the spare heir. Unnecessary. The Party Prince.

An advantageous marriage was a chance for Finn to do something right for once, something of value to the crown. He’d hoped to keep putting it off. But clearly his father was having none of that.

“She’d like you to fly to Dallas, Texas, to meet in person,” the king said. “As soon as possible.”

Dallas. He’d never been there. Maybe he could pick up an authentic cowboy hat if nothing else.

Mentally, Finn rearranged his calendar for the weekend. He’d committed to attending a couple of charity fund-raisers and had planned to hit a new club in Saint Tropez Saturday night. Looked as if he’d be skipping all of it.

“I’ve got a shift tomorrow, but I can go the day after.”

His father put a gentle hand on Finn’s shoulder. “I think it’s a good choice.”

Ducking his head, Finn shrugged. “We’ll see. What’s the worst that can happen?”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them. Scandal followed him like a mongrel dog he’d fed once and couldn’t get rid of. Juliet’s betrayal had been the first scandal but certainly not the last. It had just hurt the most.