The Anti-Cinderella Takes London

by Tawdra Kandle

  “I’m sure we both understand that.” Nicky smiled, but I recognized it as his professional, I-really-don’t-care-for-you smile. “But the fact of the matter is that the interview was sought via the correct channels at Honey Bee Juices, where Kyra is the sourcing officer, and it was granted in the same capacity. She spoke to Mr. Smith as an executive at the company her family owns and runs, and for which she works.”

  Nicky was saying essentially the same thing I’d try to sell him on last night, but somehow, he said it much better and more convincingly than I did. I slid him a sideways look of congratulations, but he wasn’t paying attention to me. His attention was wholly focused on Aline.

  “Sir, with all due respect, you know as well as I do that Ms. Duncan’s role as your fiancée comes before her position in any company. She is about to become the granddaughter-in-law of the Queen. She cannot simply go about giving away interviews as though she was some Hollywood starlet.” The way Aline wrinkled her nose when she said the word interviews made it clear that she saw what I’d done with Garrett Smith as lurid and tawdry. “And also, sir, if this was orchestrated by Ms. Duncan’s press liaison—the woman she insisted upon hiring against the advice of the entire press office—then we should think very seriously about whether or not we wish her to remain in the employ of the Crown.”

  “Sophie had nothing to do with this.” I rushed to defend her. “The prince just told you that Garrett Smith went through my company’s press office. Sophie has nothing to do with that.”

  “She is a reporter,” retorted Aline. “Who’s to say that she didn’t take the job purely for the opportunity to set up this kind of scenario? Perhaps she colluded with that Garrett Smith to make this happen.”

  I opened my mouth to further deny Sophie’s culpability, but Nicky spoke before I could.

  “I hardly think that’s here or there, Aline. And to be honest, I’ve been quite impressed with Ms. Kent’s work for Kyra. She brings a fresh new angle to the role, and she’s been very loyal to both of us. There’s no need to consider ending her employment.”

  Aline sniffed and pursed her lips. She couldn’t argue with the prince, but from the daggers she was shooting at me, I was certain I’d get an earful later on.

  “We had only one purpose in meeting with you today.” Nicky continued speaking as though there’d been no interruption. “We thought you should be aware that the interview will be appearing in a newspaper within the next week. Since there isn’t anything you can do about that, after giving it some thought, I don’t see why this shouldn’t be treated as though it were an interview officially sanctioned by the Palace.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Why on earth would we do that?”

  “Because.” Nicky leaned back, tilting his head slightly. “It would allow you to save face. This is coming out, whether you like it or not. It’s up to you how the Palace reacts to it.”

  A nervous tic jumped in Aline’s cheek. I wondered if she sensed how fully she had been beaten just now by the prince who sat next to me.

  “Tell me this, please, sir.” Ignoring me, she leaned forward a bit. “Did you know about the interview? Before Ms. Duncan spoke with Mr. Smith? Were you aware that it was going to happen?”

  Nicky didn’t blink. “What do you think, Aline? Do you truly think that Kyra doesn’t share everything with me, as I do with her? She knows that I trust her judgement. The interview was completely focused on her work with agricultural sustainability and food sourcing. She wasn’t asked anything about her personal life. Actually, I imagine the general public will find it quite boring.”

  For a long stretch of silence, tension crackled in the room. Finally, Aline sat back in her chair with a long sigh.

  “Fine. But if there’s any fallout from this, sir, please know that I’ve warned you. And if we’re going to behave as though we knew about the interview all along, we’ll need to see it before it goes to print.”

  “You can see it, but you cannot make changes.” I spoke up at last, my voice firm. “You cannot demand that he change anything or cut it in anyway. You can see it for the purposes of promoting it.”

  Aline shrugged. “Make sure it’s sent to me.”

  “We’ll see to it.” Nicky stood up, pulling me with him. “Now I’m sure you have tons of work that we’ve kept you from, so we’ll say good morning and be on our way. Thank you for your gracious cooperation and understanding, Aline.” The faint tone of irony in his voice didn’t escape me, and I bit the inside of my lip to keep from snickering.

  We walked back to the cottage hand-in-hand, silent. Once we were safely inside, Nicky turned to me. “Kyra, don’t ever make me lie for you again. Please. I’ll be on your side for the rest of lives. I think I’ve proven that more than once. But you have to trust me and be open with me about everything.”

  I nodded, unable to speak for a moment as my throat tightened. I coughed a little. “Of course, you didn’t technically lie to Aline—”

  “I bluffed and quibbled, and that is as close as I want to get.” Nicky stared down at me with a stern expression on his face. “I don’t want to be pushed into a corner where I have to choose between my love for you and my own integrity. Can you understand that?”

  “Yes.” I twisted my hands together. “Nicky, I’m sorry I put you in that position. I didn’t think—well, I just didn’t think. I acted before I considered all of the ramifications.”

  “Ah, Ky.” He drew me into his arms. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Not really. You’re marrying into a very complicated family that is often too much business and protocol for its own good. I’m sorry about that.” When I would have protested, he touched my lips with one finger. “I’m sorry that’s what my family is like sometimes. But I’m not sorry or selfless enough to tell you not to marry into it. You’re stuck, darling, with it and with me.”

  “If I had to be stuck with someone, I would choose you every time.” I rested my cheek against his chest. “Nicky, do you really think that once the Palace sanctions the story, claims they approved it, that it will be that much of a problem for us? Will it simply fizzle out and fade away?”

  He didn’t reply at first, and when he did, his words were measured. “I do. I think that by making the interview approved and official, we’ll have taken away any sense of lure. It’s the forbidden fruit that’s the sweetest, they say, isn’t it? So yes, I think it’ll fade away quickly. I believe that this story will be largely ignored and forgotten quickly. It’s really not going to be a big deal at all.”

  12

  Oh, if only Nicky had been right.

  We had five days of relative peace, during which time Sophie walked around with an expression of pinched worry and Aline glowered every time I happened to encounter her. Nicky heard through the family grapevine that the Queen had been apprised of the situation—that the interview had taken place—but had thus far made no comment to either her son or to Nicky himself. I wondered if, like the rest of us, she was waiting to see what would happen once the story went live.

  On Friday, Garrett, communicating through the Honey Bee Juices press office, let us know that the piece he’d written based on our interview had been picked up not only by his own paper but also by Green Waves Review, which afforded me a measure of relief, as GWR was certainly a legitimate, respected outlet. They wouldn’t have run anything that was strictly a fluff piece about a girl marrying a prince.

  “See?” I grinned at Nicky when I relayed that bit of news. “It’s going to a non-news story, just as you predicted. We have nothing to worry about.”

  Early on the following Monday morning, Nicky’s phone rang before we were even out of bed. Frowning at the screen, he picked it up and answered.

  I listened to his side of the conversation with growing dread. His responses to whomever had called were terse, his words bitten off.

  When the call was ended, Nicky tossed the phone onto his nightstand and turned to me. I sat up, tugging up the sheet to cover me. This did not seem to be a conversa
tion that was best conducted in the nude.

  “That was Aline.” Nicky’s voice was even. “Your interview was published this morning, as we expected.”

  “And?” I wrapped my arms around myself, surprised to find I was shaking a bit.

  “And as we also expected, it was completely focused on your work at Honey Bee and your ideas about sustainability and so on. Aline agreed that it was exactly as it had been presented to the Palace Press Office. Not one tantalizing or scandalizing morsel in it.”

  I let out a long breath. “Good. That is good, isn’t it? It’s what we said it would be.”

  “As far as that goes, yes.” He hesitated. “But unfortunately, the story was noticed by several other newspapers, and they’ve chosen to spin it in a direction that doesn’t exactly paint you in a positive light.”

  “What?” I frowned. “What could there possibly be in that interview that anyone would object to?”

  Nicky sighed. “The buzz is that it’s too political for someone who’s about to marry into the Royal Family. The Daily Post ran an article with commentary by an MP, a couple of restaurant owners and others—oh, remember Mr. Alloways? You met him last year at the Waste Not luncheon.”

  I shuddered. “That day is not filled with happy memories for me.”

  “Not for either of us.” Nicky lay back in the bed and circled my waist with his arm, nuzzling my side. “But we’ve gotten past that. The point is, Alloways was the very unpleasant gentleman who was sitting at our table and who argued with us that day. He and Mrs. Gummer are both on the National Council of Grocers, and they’ve been fighting all the progress we’ve made with Waste Not. At any rate, Alloways also commented on your interview. He claims that you have aspirations to revolutionize farming in the UK, that what you’re talking about would take farms away from families . . . basically, he’s building monsters.”

  “But would people believe that about me?” Panic began to rise in me. “I’d never do that. I don’t want to get involved in politics—I didn’t in the US, and I don’t plan to here. It’s clear that this is ridiculous, right?”

  Nicky ran his hand over his hair, closing his eyes as he lay his head in my lap. “That’s what one would hope, but these things rarely go the way we’d like. People will say what they’re going to say. There’s nothing that we can do to stop it from happening.”

  “Is that why Aline called?” Absently, I stroked the side of his face. “Because I’m in trouble, even though the interview was all business?”

  “Eh.” Nicky’s jaw tightened, and I rubbed it gently until he relaxed. “Not in trouble. I think she just wanted you to be prepared for the questions that are likely to be thrown at you today when you go to work. The Palace isn’t going to issue a statement—at least, not right now. If things get really terrible . . .” His voice drifted off, but I had a hunch about what he was going to say: if the questions and accusations got out of hand, then I’d have to deal with the repercussions.

  And . . . I curled my fingers around the sheet as something occurred to me. Nicky and I were scheduled to attend the opening of a new community garden in Tottenham with the Queen at the end of the week. I’d have to face Her Majesty, knowing that what I’d done might have embarrassed her. Even if that hadn’t been my intention, I’d flouted a rule that I knew existed, and why? What had I accomplished but to alienate the very people I was hoping to help?

  “Nicky, I’m so sorry,” I whispered. “I didn’t mean to cause problems.”

  “Darling, don’t.” Nicky caught my hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss into the palm. “You didn’t have bad intentions. You didn’t do this to draw attention to yourself. All of this—” He waved his hand. “All of it is a learning process. I was born into this life, just as my sisters were, and even so, we all make missteps. We’ve all said things or done things that we know must make our grandmother cringe. But she’s a very gracious woman, my granny is. She never holds anything against us.” His lips curled slightly. “Not for long, anyway.”

  “I want to be the kind of person who uses this role, this opportunity, to make people’s lives better.” I drew lazy circles on the back of Nicky’s hand as it held mine loosely. “When we were at the ballet, and I met the people who Alex had helped through their grief, I realized that I can do so much more than I’d ever dreamed. I want to use whatever position I have to help others.”

  “Of course, you do.” He flexed his hand, lacing our fingers. “I know that, and as the rest of the world gets to know you, they’ll see it, too. That’s one of the hardest aspects of what we do—of what we are. We’re not politicians; we don’t campaign for office, so we don’t get many opportunities to introduce ourselves to people. We’re not actors or other kinds of public figures who can take roles or go on talk shows to give others a glimpse into our minds. We just do what we can and keep on going, and we hope that eventually the people who matter understand a little about us. Or at least trust that we have honorable intentions.”

  “I never really thought of it that way,” I mused. “It’s really a matter of putting our money where our mouths are, in a sense, isn’t it? It’s what we do, not what we say. So we have to make sure all of our actions are intentional and directed in the right way.”

  “Granny would say that as long as we’re doing our duty and putting others first, everything works out.” Nicky rolled off my lap and sat up with a groan. “She’s a pretty wise lady as it turns out. And that reminds me that as much as I’d love to stay here and comfort you—” He winked to show me that comfort had an entirely lascivious meaning in his mind—“I need to get out of bed. I’m visiting an art school for underprivileged children with Daisy today on behalf of our mother. If I’m late, I’ll have my baby sister needling me and my mother’s disapproval, too.”

  “I guess I should get ready to go into the office.” Even as I said it, I lay back down in the bed and snuggled beneath the covers. I was dreading facing the press and the inevitable questions and accusations I’d hear. “But maybe it would be a better idea to stay put today. You know, lay low until all the brouhaha fades away.”

  “No such luck, Ky.” Nicky whipped the covers off me and gave my backside a smart smack. “Up you go. If I have to go out into the world, you do, too. Besides, hiding from the reporters only make them worse. They scent fear like blood, you know, and then they’re relentless. Go to work and give them that gorgeous smile that made me fall in love with you.”

  “It was my smile?” I rolled off the bed and stood up. “Here I thought it was my sass. And of course, my ability to build a sand castle.”

  “Let’s just say it was a combination of all of those things and even more.” Nicky sauntered toward the bathroom. “Try not to worry about today. Just be yourself, keep smiling and you’ll be amazing, as always.”

  Unfortunately, the day was not quite as easy as Nicky had made it sound.

  Harold drove me to work, as he had since Nicky and I had announced our engagement and I’d become a bona fide almost-royal. Although I usually sat in the front with him, today I rode in the backseat, my fingers gripping the edge of the seat and my stomach roiling with nerves.

  “Nearly there, Ms. Duncan.” Harold glanced at me in the rearview mirror, and I saw the compassion in his eyes. “If you don’t mind me saying, you’re a bit quiet today. I hope you’re feeling well.”

  “Thank you.” I cleared my throat. “Just particularly dreading running the gauntlet today.”

  “Ah, yes. Well, Sophie’s there already, isn’t she? You won’t be alone. And try not to let their nonsense get to you. It’s all just noise, you know.”

  “It’s one thing to know it and another to believe it when they’re yelling at you.” I twisted the handle of my purse. “Harold, do you remember when I landed in London almost two years ago and you picked me up at the airport? I was terrified that day. They were all around me and yelling and asking questions, flashbulbs going off . . . I really thought I might pass out.”

&n
bsp; “Yes, of course.” He sighed. “But Ms. Duncan, again if you’ll forgive me saying it, you’ve come a long way since then. You’re not the same young woman you were that day. Now when you walk into the office every day, you do it with your head held high. You don’t let them bother you.”

  He slowed the car although we were a few blocks from the Honey Bee Juices building. “If you’d like, I can drive you around to the back of the office, and you can go in the back door.”

  I hesitated. I knew full well what Harold was doing; he was giving me an out, a way to avoid a confrontation with the media. I could sneak in the back and be up to my own safe office before anyone knew any differently.

  But he was also challenging me not to take the out, and although maybe I shouldn’t have cared what our policeman thought of me, I did. Harold was more than just our trusted security man; he was someone I’d known since my first visit to England. He’d seen me at my high points and my lows. I’d never forget that the day Nicky and I had fought, and I’d left Kensington Palace in tears, it was Harold who’d rescued me. He’d driven me to the airport then without asking any questions or making comments. He’d been my lifesaver. I didn’t want to disappoint him now.

  “No, thanks,” I answered him finally. “You can drop me off at front as usual, please. I’m not going to have anyone say I’m a coward, at least.”

  Harold didn’t say anything—he merely nodded—but I was sure I saw a glint of pride in his eyes.

  When we came to a stop again, Harold jumped out to open my door, but we were surrounded before he could do it. The car rocked as reporters crowded to be as close as they could be. My heart began to pound, and for the first time since that day at the airport two years ago, I was truly afraid.