The Anti-Cinderella Takes London

by Tawdra Kandle

  “Oh, sure,” I retorted. “I can just see the papers now, not to mention the expression on the Queen’s face—”

  My telephone bleated, interrupting me, and I dove across the bed to answer the call before it stopped ringing.

  “Oh, it’s my mother. Probably calling to scold me about the interview and find out the dirt on Daisy.” I wagged my eyebrows at Nicky and hit the button to accept the call. “Hey, Mom. How are you?”

  “Kyra.” Even across the miles, across the ocean, I could hear the tears she was crying as her voice broke. “Kyra, I don’t know—I hate having to do this on the phone—oh, Ky. Sweetheart, it’s Handsome. Your grandfather passed away this morning.”

  14

  One of the perks of being part of the Royal Family—or nearly part of it—was that in the event of a crisis, everything flowed with incredible smoothness. In the numb hours that followed my mother’s call, I was dimly aware of Nicky talking to people, making plans, taking over so that I didn’t have to think. For that, I was grateful beyond measure.

  People moved around me, but I didn’t notice them. Sophie was at the cottage, and distractedly, I wondered who had called her and how she had gotten there; I didn’t remember her arriving.

  Alex sat down with me, holding my hand but not saying a word. The memory that she had suffered tremendous loss pierced my own fog of grief, and I was pathetically grateful for her quiet presence.

  I didn’t know how many hours had passed since I’d heard the news when Nicky came to kneel in front of me, where I sat frozen on the sofa in our sitting room.

  “Ky, love, we’re leaving for Florida in about an hour. The flight is all set, and my mother and Daisy have packed for you. Do you want to check the bags and see if they missed anything?”

  I shook my head. If there was anything left behind, I could get a replacement once I reached the States, or I could borrow something from my sisters. The idea of having to stand up and do something constructive was intolerable.

  “Kyra.” Daisy was here, and I frowned, thinking that she had to have been exhausted after her whirlwind trip to Scotland and back, and then all of the emotion of the last few days. “Ky, darling, let me help you upstairs so you can shower and get dressed.”

  I shook my head again. Moving meant this was all real, and I wasn’t ready for it to be real yet. If I could just stay here comfortably on our sofa, it might still be a dream. A terrible one, certainly, but a dream nonetheless.

  “Kyra, you have to get dressed.” Nicky framed my face with his hands. “Love, you’re in your robe, and we can’t fly to Florida with you like that. You have to put on clothes.”

  Something clicked in my mind, and I realized that flying to Florida meant going to the airport and getting on an airplane . . . surrounded by people who would stare and whisper, because I was no longer just Kyra Duncan; I was Kyra Duncan, fiancée of the prince. There would be press, and they’d be yelling at me as they always did. I couldn’t take that. Not today.

  “Nicky,” I whispered, speaking for the first time in hours. “I can’t have all the reporters—please do something so that I don’t have to see them. Please. I can’t handle that today.”

  “Sweetheart, it’s already taken care of. Sophie has made arrangements.” He paused. “And believe it or not, most of them do have some sense of propriety when it comes to times like these. Some sort of decency overrides the need to get the story. Try not to worry. But you do need to put on clothes, all the same.”

  Daisy took my free hand, the one that Alex wasn’t holding. “Come on, Ky. Let’s go upstairs. Alex will help us, and then you can be on your way.”

  I managed to climb the steps to our bedroom, where Nicky’s mother was setting out a pair of low-heeled black pumps.

  “You didn’t have a black dress, but Alex had one that will work for the flight.” The Duchess straightened and held out her arms to me. “Oh, Kyra, darling, we’re so sorry. Your grandfather—what a wonderful man he was. He was such a good friend to my mother, after he married Maggie—your Honey—and she was very fond of him. I have happy memories of both of your grandparents from when I visited the States with my mother, when I was a little girl. He’s going to be so missed.”

  I nodded and allowed her to hold me, but I couldn’t do any more than that. After a few minutes, she gently let me go, and along with her daughters, she helped me get ready to fly back to Florida to bury my grandfather.

  Nicky had arranged for the two of us to fly first class and had requested seats that would give us as much privacy as possible. He told me later that the Queen had offered us the use of the airplane on which she made overseas flights, but he’d felt it wasn’t a good idea to accept her kind offer. He hated anything that made the Royal Family appear to be over-privileged freeloaders.

  It didn’t matter to me, because I didn’t really remember the flight afterward. Nicky told me that I slept during most of it. He’d tried to get me to eat something, but I’d refused. That didn’t surprise me; the thought of putting anything into my mouth made me want to gag.

  I didn’t speak at all until about fifteen minutes before we landed, and then I turned to face Nicky.

  “I thought it would be Honey.”

  He took my hand in both of his and rubbed it lightly. “What’s that, darling?”

  “Honey. I thought . . . after she’d been so sick last year, I thought I had to be prepared to lose Honey. I was—I don’t know, maybe somehow more ready for it to be her. If my mother had called and told me that she had died, I would have been devastated, too, but not so surprised. But Handsome . . .” My throat constricted. “He wasn’t sick. Not at all. He’s never been sick as long as I can remember. But he died anyway. He died, Nicky.”

  “I know, sweetheart.” Nicky’s eyes were tormented with sorrow for me. “Your mother said it was sudden and peaceful. He passed away in his sleep after having enjoyed a wonderful evening with your grandmother and your parents. And I believe Lisel was there, too. Your mother said they’d had dinner together and then they all played dominoes—and your grandfather won. Apparently, the last thing he said to them before he went to bed was, I’ll bet none of you will play against me again after I whooped you so badly!”

  Despite myself, I smiled. “That sounds just like him. For such a peace-loving man, he sure did love winning when it came to games.” Thinking of him, remembering his irresistible smile and contagious laugh, a new wave of pain swept over me. “I’m going to miss him so much, Nicky. How are we going to run Honey Bee without him? And he’d promised he’d be there for our wedding. I was going to take him all around London to see the sights after we got back from our honeymoon. He wanted to see the ravens at the Tower.”

  “I know, Ky. I know it hurts, and I know you’re in pain. But for right now at least, try to only remember the good things. You had him for many years, and he lived each one to the fullest. He was an incredible man—an example that I will never forget. If we try to focus on that, it will help us get through.”

  I nodded and stared out the window. I couldn’t see the azure blue ocean as it was pitch black out, but lights dotted the coastline of Florida. “When we land, Nicky, what’s going to happen? Can we duck the reporters?” In London, we’d been allowed to go into the airport through a special entrance and given a small private room in which to wait. I hadn’t encountered even one member of the press. But in the US, I suspected it would be more difficult to keep the media away.

  “It’s already set up for us,” Nicky assured me. “We’ll stay here on the plane until everyone else has exited, and then we’ll go right down to the tarmac, where there will be a car waiting for us. It will take us—you, me and Harold—directly to your family’s home.”

  I glanced at him, startled. “Harold’s here? On the plane?”

  “Oh, yes. We need security when we travel. He’s sitting a few rows away to give us privacy, but he’ll be in the car with us and staying at the house, too.”

  “Oh.” I let that sin
k in. “And our luggage will be loaded?” I suddenly realized how much I didn’t know about how we’d made this trip. I couldn’t remember what suitcase I’d brought or where it was.

  “Yes, they’ll have it in the car before we disembark. Try not to worry, Ky. Between Sophie and the rest of the Palace staff, they managed everything for us. Just relax, and I’ll get you home.”

  The odd thing was that I hadn’t cried. Not from the moment I’d heard my mother tell me the news to when I mutely held out the phone for Nicky to take it from me, throughout the hazy afternoon as everyone had taken care of the arrangements . . . not one tear. I was too frozen, too much of a statue. I felt as though my emotions had all evaporated and left me dry and brittle.

  But then we stepped through the front door of the home that Honey and Handsome had built so many years ago, the beach house where we’d spent countless happy hours, where I’d met Nicky for the first time as a child. I hesitated on the threshold, catching my breath in dread of the moment it finally sank in that Handsome wasn’t going to come around the corner, his voice booming as he said, “There’s my Kyra! Look at you, so smart and strong and beautiful.”

  “Kyra.” Standing in the doorway to the expansive family room, Honey held out her arms to me, and with a cry, I launched myself toward my grandmother. As she held me, stroking my hair, the tears came at long last.

  “Oh, my dear.” She eased away and held my face, smiling sadly into my eyes. “I’m so glad you’re here. I need us to all be together.” She glanced over my shoulder. “Nicky. Come here, darling boy. Let me hug you. Thank you for bringing my girl home.”

  “Of course, Auntie.” Nicky, whose grandmother had been Honey’s best friend from childhood, had grown up calling Honey and Handsome Auntie and Uncle, a habit he had mostly dropped as an adult. But now, hearing the endearment fall from his lips so naturally made me thankful all over again that this man was mine—that we’d found each other again.

  “Come in here, now—we’re all sitting around and trying to make each other feel better.” Honey led us further into the house, and within seconds, I was surrounded by my mother and my sisters, each of them vying to hug me. And then my father was there, his eyes red and bleak. His relationship with his father had been close and loving, and I knew my poor daddy had to be suffering even more than the rest of us were.

  Finally, we all sat down. Nicky kept his arms around me, and I was grateful for his steadying presence. Bria passed around a bottle of wine and goblets.

  “Isn’t it a little early for wine?” I lifted my own full glass. “Or is it late? I mean, I guess I don’t even know what time it is.”

  “It’s just past eleven,” my mother informed me. “You poor things, you must be horribly jet-lagged.”

  “For us, it’s just past four in the morning.” Nicky smiled. “So Kyra’s right—for us, it’s a bit early for wine.” He took a healthy sip of his glass. “But all the same, this is much-needed just now, no matter when now is.”

  Lisel sighed. “I know it sounds really trite, but I feel better that you’re here, Kyra. It’s good that we’re all together. And Nicky, thank you for getting her to us so quickly.”

  “I had a lot of help.” He twisted a strand of my hair around his finger. “I’m glad we’re here, too. You must tell me what I can do to help out. Anything at all.”

  “Tomorrow we’ll be making arrangements.” My dad spoke up. “We wanted to wait for Kyra to be here for that. If there’s anything we need to do to keep the reporters away or to ensure your safety, we’ll set it up.”

  “We can talk about it tomorrow.” Nicky nodded. “But there shouldn’t be any problem. The press office has been handling everything, and so far, people seem to be respecting your family’s need to grieve in private.”

  “I appreciate that.” Daddy’s voice wavered a little, and my heart hurt for him. I’d been so anxious to get home and be with my family, but I hadn’t taken into account how much their grief would compound my own. Seeing my father and my sisters reeling from the loss just as I was added a component to my pain.

  I glanced at Honey, who was sitting in her usual chair. Her face was composed and serene, although there was undeniable sadness in her eyes. Giving Nicky’s hand a quick squeeze, I stood up and went to sit on the floor next to my grandmother’s chair, laying my head in her lap as I had when I was a little girl and needed comfort.

  “Honey, what can I do for you?”

  She smiled and stroked my hair. “Nothing, Kyra. Just having you and Nicky here now makes me feel better. You know how important it was for Handsome and me to have the whole family together. It’s always been one of our great joys.”

  I blinked back a second onslaught of tears. “You and Handsome made us all feel welcome every time we came here—or to your house in Maine. And if it wasn’t for you both, I wouldn’t have found Nicky again.” Our eyes met across the room.

  “Oh, I have faith that something else would’ve brought you together. You two are meant to be, just like your grandfather and I are.” She coughed a bit. “Or were, I guess. I’m having a bit of a hard time adjusting to the past tense.”

  “Love is never a past tense deal, Mom.” My dad swallowed hard and managed a crooked smile. “Especially not the kind of love you and Dad have. Past, present, future, life and death—time and mortality can’t touch that sort of love. It’s the most powerful force in the world.” He glanced around at all of us. “That love created this family and brought all of us here. So . . . never think you have to talk about Dad as if he’s only part of the past. He’ll always be part of us, for the rest of our lives.”

  There was nothing else that could be said—nothing else that needed to be said. We sat in silence as one day ended and a new one began.

  15

  Nicky and I both collapsed into bed that night, despite the fact that for us, on London time, it was our normal breakfast hour just as we went to sleep. It wasn’t any wonder that we were exhausted, given the events of the last few days. Physically, mentally and emotionally—I knew I was beyond tired, on the verge of shattering into a million pieces if I didn’t find a way to rest at least a little.

  When I opened my eyes in the morning to see the familiar curtains draping the window of the bedroom that had been mine as long as I could remember, for a moment I forgot everything. I only knew that I was home.

  “Sleep well?” Behind me, Nicky’s voice was low and deep. I snuggled back against him with a sigh.

  “Amazingly, yes. I didn’t think I would, but once my head hit the pillow, I was out.” I rolled to face him, lightly brushing my fingers over the scruff on his jawline. “How about you?”

  “Just about the same. I opened my eyes a few times and was a bit disoriented, but otherwise, I slept like the dead.” As soon as the word left his mouth, he winced. “Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to be insensitive.”

  “Don’t.” Framing his face with my hand, I kissed his lips. “That’s not insensitive, and you know Handsome would be snickering if he heard you.”

  “Still . . .” Nicky insinuated his arm underneath my body and held me closer. “How are you feeling this morning?”

  “I think I’m in shock a little bit, even now,” I admitted. “I woke up and for just a moment, I’d forgotten why we’re here. It took my brain a minute to catch up.” I let myself sag against Nicky, pressing into him as much as I could. “You know, I was thinking. Here I am acting like the world is ending because my grandfather died. He lived a full and happy life, he lived to see his grandchildren grow up, he knew such love and success, and he died peacefully in his sleep after a wonderful evening with his family. But the people we met through Alex’s charity lost husbands and wives who were young and never got to see their kids grow up, let alone their grandchildren. I feel like I should be . . . I don’t know, stronger, somehow. Better than this. Maybe I don’t have the right to grieve as I am.”

  “That’s absolutely ridiculous.” Nicky’s tender tone softened the crispnes
s of his words. “Ky, you know better, or you should. Grief is not something that should be compared. There are not varying degrees of who is worthy of your tears—loss is loss, no matter how long you’ve had the person in your life.” He stroked my back, his fingers soothing me. “I remember something Alex said, not too long after Grayson was killed. She said she was mourning not only the loss of him, her fiancé and lover and friend, but also the loss of all the potentiality—the years they might have had. The marriage they never experienced. The children who might have been born to them. I didn’t understand it so much at the time—remember, I was only sixteen—but I do now. And I think that’s part of your grief—we’re in the midst of such an exciting time in our lives, and we’ll miss your grandfather in all the wedding celebrations, and then later, at each milestone we reach.”

  “That’s true.” I lay quietly in Nicky’s arms, letting myself relax and enjoy his ministrations. As his hands wandered over me, only trying to offer comfort, I felt a stirring of something more. Something deeper than the solace he was giving me, something yearning to prove that in the face of death and loss, I was still alive.

  Tipping my chin up, I sealed my lips to his, parting them and deepening the kiss. He responded tentatively, and I suspected he was trying not to push me. But we were lying close enough that I didn’t have to guess at whether or not his body was interested in my subtle seduction.

  “Nicky,” I whispered. “If I wanted you to make love to me right now, would you think less of me? Would you think I’m a terrible person?”