{"product_id":"hrh-isbn-9780440242048","title":"H.R.H.","description":"\u003cb\u003eIn a novel where ancient traditions conflict with reality and the pressures of modern  life, a young European princess proves that simplicity, courage, and dignity win  the day and forever alter her world, from #1 \u003ci\u003eNew York Times \u003c\/i\u003ebestselling author Danielle Steel\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIn blue jeans and a pullover, Princess Christianna  is a young woman of her times: born in Europe, educated in America, worried about  the future of the world she lives in, responsible beyond her years.  Christianna  is the only daughter of the Reigning Prince of a European nation that takes its royalty  seriously–and her father has ironclad plans for Christianna’s life, a burden that  is almost unbearable.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNow, after four years at Berkeley, life in her father’s palace  cannot distract Christianna from what she sees outside the kingdom–the suffering  of children, the ravages of terrorism and disease.  Determined to make a difference  in the world, she persuades His Royal Highness, her father, to let her volunteer  for the Red Cross in East Africa.  And for Christianna, a journey of discovery, change,  and awakening begins.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eUnder a searing East African sun, Christianna plunges into  the dusty, bustling life of an international relief camp, finding a passion and a  calling among the brave doctors and volunteers.  Finally free from the scrutiny of  her royal life, Christianna struggles to keep her identity a secret from her new  friends and coworkers–even from Parker Williams, the young doctor from Doctors Without  Borders who works alongside Christianna and shares her dedication to healing.  But  as violence approaches and invades the camp, and the pressures of her royal life  beckon her home, Christianna’s struggle for freedom takes an extraordinary turn.   By a simple twist of fate, in one shocking moment, Christianna’s life is changed  forever–in ways she never could have foreseen.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFrom the splendor of a prince’s palace  to the chaos of war-torn nations, Danielle Steel takes us into fascinating new worlds.   Filled with unforgettable images and a remarkable cast of characters, \u003ci\u003eH.R.H.\u003c\/i\u003e is  a novel of the conflict between old and new worlds, responsibility versus freedom,  and duty versus love.\u003cb\u003ePraise for Danielle Steel\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Steel is one of the best!”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eLos Angeles Times\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Few modern writers convey the pathos of family and material life with such heartfelt empathy.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eThe Philadelphia Inquirer\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Steel pulls out all the emotional stops. . . . She delivers!”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003ePublishers Weekly\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“What counts for the reader is the ring of authenticity.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eSan Francisco Chronicle\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cb\u003eDanielle Steel \u003c\/b\u003ehas been hailed as one of the world’s bestselling authors, with a billion copies of her novels sold. Her many international bestsellers include \u003ci\u003eHappiness, Palazzo, The Wedding Planner, Worthy Opponents, Without a Trace, The Whittiers, The High Notes, \u003c\/i\u003eand other highly acclaimed novels. She is also the author of \u003ci\u003eHis Bright Light\u003c\/i\u003e, the story of her son Nick Traina’s life and death; \u003ci\u003eA Gift of Hope\u003c\/i\u003e, a memoir of her work with the homeless; \u003ci\u003eExpect a Miracle\u003c\/i\u003e, a book of her favorite quotations for inspiration and comfort; \u003ci\u003ePure Joy\u003c\/i\u003e, about the dogs she and her family have loved; and the children’s books \u003ci\u003ePretty Minnie in Paris\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003ePretty Minnie in Hollywood\u003c\/i\u003e.\u003ci\u003eChapter One\u003cbr\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Christianna stood at her bedroom window, looking down at the hillside  in the pouring rain. She was watching a large white dog, soaking wet with matted  hair, digging excitedly in the mud. Every now and then he would look up at her and  wag his tail, and then return to digging again. He was the Great Pyrenees her father  had given her eight years before. His name was Charles, and in many ways he was her  best friend. She laughed as she watched him chase a rabbit that eluded him and promptly  disappeared. Charles barked frantically and then splashed happily through the mud  again, looking for something else to pursue. He was having a great time, as Christianna  was, watching him. It was the last of summer and the weather was still warm. She  had returned to Vaduz in June, after four years of college in Berkeley. Coming home  had been something of a shock, and so far the best thing about her homecoming was  Charles. Other than her cousins in England and Germany, and acquaintances throughout  Europe, her only friend was Charles. She led a sheltered and isolated life, and always  had. It seemed unlikely she would see her Berkeley friends again.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e As she watched  the dog disappear toward the stables, Christianna hurried out of her room, intent  on going outside and following him. She grabbed her riding slicker and a pair of  rubber boots she used to muck out her horse's stall, and ran down the back stairs.  She was grateful that no one noticed her, and a moment later she was outside, sliding  through the mud and running after the big white dog. She called his name, and in  an instant he bounded up to her, nearly knocking her down. He wagged his tail, splashing  water everywhere, put a muddy paw on her, and when she bent to stroke him, he reached  up and licked her face, and then ran away again as she laughed. Together, they ran  side by side along the bridle path. It was too wet today to ride.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e When the dog strayed  from the path, she called his name, he hesitated only for an instant, and then came  back to her each time. He was normally well behaved, but the rain excited him, as  he ran and barked. Christianna was having as much fun as the dog. After nearly an  hour, slightly out of breath, she stopped, the dog panting heavily beside her. She  took a shortcut then, and half an hour later, they were once again back where they  began. It had been a wonderful outing for both mistress and dog, and each looked  as disreputable and disheveled as the other. Christianna's long, almost white-blond  hair was matted to her head, her face was wet, and even her eyelashes were stuck  together. She never wore makeup, unless she had to go out or was likely to be photographed,  and she was wearing the jeans she had brought back from Berkeley. They were a souvenir  of her lost life. She had loved every moment of her four years at UC Berkeley. She  had fought hard to be allowed to go. Her brother had gone to Oxford, and her father  had suggested the Sorbonne for her. Christianna had been adamant about going to college  in the States, and her father had finally relented, though reluctantly. Going that  far from home spelled freedom to her, and she had reveled in each day she was there,  and had hated to come home when she graduated in June. She had made friends she missed  sorely now, they were part of another life she missed so much. She had come home  to face her responsibilities, and do what was expected of her. To Christianna, it  felt like a heavy burden, lightened only by moments such as these, running through  the woods with her dog. The rest of the time since coming home, she had felt as though  she were in prison, serving a life sentence. There was no one she could have said  that to, and doing so would have made her sound ungrateful for all she had. Her father  was extremely kind to her. He had sensed, more than seen, her sadness since returning  from the States. But there was nothing he could do about it. Christianna knew as  well as he did that her childhood, and the freedom she had enjoyed in California,  had come to an end.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Charles looked up at his mistress questioningly as they reached  the end of the bridle path, as though asking her if they really had to go back.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I know,\" Christianna said softly, patting him, \"I don't want to either.\" The rain  felt gentle on her face, and she didn't mind getting soaked, or her long blond mane  getting wet, any more than the dog did. The slicker protected her, and her boots  were caked with mud. She laughed as she looked at him, thinking it was hard to believe  that this muddy brown dog was really white.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e She needed the exercise, as did the  dog. He wagged his tail as he looked at her, and then with a slightly more decorous  step, they walked home. She was hoping to slip in the back door, but getting Charles  into the house, in his disreputable condition, would be a greater challenge. He was  too filthy to take upstairs, and she knew she would have to take him in through the  kitchen. He was in desperate need of a bath after their muddy walk.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e She opened the  kitchen door quietly, hoping to escape attention for as long as possible, but as  soon as she opened it, the enormous muddy dog bounded past her, dashed into the middle  of the room, and barked with excitement. So much for a quiet entrance, Christianna  smiled ruefully, and glanced apologetically at the familiar faces around her. The  people who worked in her father's kitchen were always kind to her, and sometimes  she wished that she could still sit among them, enjoying their company and the friendly  atmosphere, as she had as a child. But those days were over for her as well. They  no longer treated her as they had when she and her brother Friedrich were children.  Friedrich was ten years older than she, and was traveling in Asia for the next six  months. Christianna had turned twenty-three that summer.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Charles was still barking  and, shaking the water off enthusiastically, had splattered nearly everyone around  him with mud, as Christianna tried vainly to subdue him.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I'm so sorry,\" she said  as Tilda, the cook, wiped her face with her apron, shook her head, and smiled good  naturedly at the young woman she had known since birth. She signaled quickly to a  young man, who rushed to lead the dog away. \"I'm afraid he got awfully dirty,\" Christianna  said with a smile to the young man, wishing she could bathe the dog herself. She  liked doing it, but she knew it was unlikely they would let her. Charles yelped unhappily  as he was led away. \"I don't mind bathing him . . . ,\" Christianna said, but the  dog was already gone.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Of course not, ma'am,\" Tilda said, frowning at her, and then  used a clean towel to wipe Christianna's face as well. If Christianna had still been  a child, she would have scolded her and told her that she looked worse than the dog.  \"Would you like some lunch?\" Christianna hadn't even thought of it, and shook her  head. \"Your father is still in the dining room. He just finished his soup. I could  send something up for you.\" Christianna hesitated, and then nodded. She hadn't seen  him all day, and she enjoyed the quiet moments they shared when he wasn't working,  and had a few minutes to himself, which was rare. He was usually surrounded by assorted  members of his staff, and was in a rush to get to meetings. It was a treat for him  to enjoy a meal alone, especially with her. She cherished the time they spent together.  The only reason she had willingly come home from Berkeley was for him. There had  been no other choice, although she would have loved to go on to graduate school just  so she could stay in the States. She didn't dare ask. She knew the answer would have  been no. Her father wanted her at home. She knew she had to be doubly responsible  because her brother wasn't at all. If Friedrich had been willing to shoulder his  responsibilities, it would have lightened the burden on her. But there was no hope  of that.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e She left her slicker hanging on a peg outside the kitchen, and took off  her boots. They were noticeably smaller than any other pair there. She had tiny feet,  and was so small she was almost a miniature. In flat shoes, her brother often teased  her that she looked like a little girl, particularly with her long blond hair, which  was still hanging wet down her back. She had small delicate hands, a perfect figure  nothing like a child's, although she was very slight and always just a little bit  too thin, and a face like a cameo. People said she looked like her mother, and somewhat  like her father, who was as fair as she was, although both he and her brother were  very tall, well over six feet. Christianna's mother had been as small as she was  and had died when Christianna was five, and Friedrich was fifteen. Their father had  never remarried. Christianna was the lady of the house, and was often her father's  hostess now at important dinners or events. It was one of the responsibilities expected  of her, and although she didn't enjoy it, it was a duty she performed lovingly for  him. She and her father had always been extremely close. He had always been sensitive  to the fact that it had been hard for her growing up without a mother. And in spite  of his many duties, he had made every effort to be both father and mother to her,  not always an easy task.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Christianna bounded up the back stairs in jeans, sweater,  and stocking feet. She arrived in the pantry slightly breathless, nodded at the people  there, and slipped quietly into the dining room. Her father was sitting at the dining  table alone, poring over a stack of papers, wearing his glasses, with a serious look  on his face. He didn't hear Christianna come in. He glanced up and smiled as she  slipped silently in to the chair beside him. He was obviously pleased to see his  daughter, he always was.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"What have you been up to, Cricky?\" He had called her that  since she was a little girl. He gently patted her head as she leaned over to kiss  him, and he noticed her wet hair. \"You've been out in the rain. Were you riding in  this weather?\" He worried about her, more than he did about Freddy. Christianna had  always been so small and seemed so fragile to him. Ever since losing his wife to  cancer eighteen years before, he had treated their daughter like the priceless gift  she had been to them when she was born. She looked so much like her mother. His late  wife had been exactly the age Christianna was now when he married her. She was French,  half Orleans and half Bourbon, the two royal families of France, who had been the  ruling monarchy before the French Revolution. Christianna was descended from royal  families on all sides. Her father's ancestors were mostly German, with cousins in  England. Her father's native tongue was German, though he and Christianna's mother  had always spoken French, as she did with her children. Once she was gone, in her  memory, Christianna's father had continued speaking to his children in French. It  was still the language in which Christianna was most comfortable, and which she preferred,  although she spoke German, Italian, Spanish, and English as well. Her English had  improved immeasurably during her years in college in California, and she was totally  fluent now.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"You shouldn't go out riding in the rain,\" he scolded her gently. \"You'll  catch a cold, or worse.\" He always feared her getting ill, excessively so, he acknowledged,  since the death of his wife.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I wasn't riding,\" she explained. \"I just went for  a run with the dog.\" As she said it, a footman set her soup down in front of her,  in delicate two-hundred-year-old gold-rimmed Limoges. The set had been her French  grandmother's, and Christianna knew there were many equally handsome services of  china from her father's ancestors as well. \"Are you very busy today, Papa?\" Christianna  asked quietly, as he nodded, and pushed his papers away with a sigh.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"No more than  usual. So many problems in the world, so many things that can't be solved. Human  problems are so complicated these days. Nothing is simple anymore.\" Her father was  well known for his humanitarian concerns. It was one of the many things she admired  about him. He was a man worthy of respect, and was regarded with great affection  by all who knew him. He was a man of compassion, integrity, and courage, and had  set a powerful example for her and her brother to follow. Christianna learned from  his example and listened to what he said. Freddy was far more self-indulgent, and  paid no attention to his father's edicts, wisdom, or requests. Freddy's indifference  to what was expected of him made her feel as though she had to attend to duties and  uphold traditions for them both. She knew how disappointed her father was in his  son, and she felt she had to make it up to him somehow. And in fact, Christianna  was much more like her father, and was always interested in his projects, particularly  those involving indigent people in underdeveloped countries. She had done volunteer  work several times, in poor areas in Europe, and had never been happier than when  she did.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e He explained his latest endeavors to her as she listened to him with interest  and commented from time to time. Her ideas on the subject were intelligent and well  thought out, he had always had a deep respect for her mind. He only wished his son  had her brains and drive. And he knew only too well that she felt she had been wasting  her time ever since she got home. He had recently suggested that she consider studying  law or political science in Paris. It was a way of keeping her busy and challenging  her mind, and Paris was close enough to home. She had many relatives there, on her  mother's side, could stay with them, and come home to see him often. Although she  would have liked it, even at her age, there wasn't even the remotest possibility  of her staying in an apartment on her own. She was still mulling over his plan, but  she was more interested in doing something useful that would make a difference to  other people, than in going back to school. At his father's insistence, Freddy had  graduated from Oxford, and had a master's degree in business from Harvard, which  was of no use to him, given the life he led. Her father would have allowed Christianna  to study something more esoteric, if she chose to, though she was an excellent student  and a very serious girl, which was why he thought law or political science would  suit her well.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e His assistant entered the dining room apologetically as they finished  coffee, and smiled at Christianna. He was almost like an uncle to her, and had worked  for her father during her entire life. Most of the people around them had worked  for him for years.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I'm sorry to interrupt, Your Highness,\" the older man said cautiously.  \"You have an appointment with the finance minister in twenty minutes, and we have  some new reports on Swiss currency that I thought you might want to read before you  speak with him. And our ambassador to the United Nations will be here to see you  at three-thirty.\" Christianna knew her father would be busy until dinner, and more  than likely his presence would be required at either a state or official event. Sometimes  she went with him, if he asked her to. Otherwise she stayed home, or appeared briefly  at similar events herself. In Vaduz, there were no casual evenings for her with friends,  as there had been in Berkeley. Now there was only duty, responsibility, and work.","brand":"Dell","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46302543479013,"sku":"NP9780440242048","price":9.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780440242048.jpg?v=1767728597","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/hrh-isbn-9780440242048","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}