by Rachel Hauck
Daffy watched the hair battle for a moment, lost in his presence, in everything that was Prince Augustus. Burnished highlights lit his hair, and his newly trimmed beard accentuated his strong jaw and firm chin. By the construct of his face and body, he was built to take a punch or two. Even emotional ones.
He was the poster boy for the classic Prince Charming. Maybe that’s why he tried so hard at love. He was supposed to win.
“You’re stronger than you know, Gus.”
He shifted his eyes toward her while remaining in repose. “Are we resorting to clichés now?”
“I’m sorry if truths become clichés, but you’re not weak. You’re not a reject or—”
“There’s a new word to add to my self-talk. Reject.”
“Only if you add the word not in front of it.” Daffy faced the water, savoring the breeze. “You know what I’m trying to say.”
He patted her foot. “I know. Thank you. I’ll bear it in mind.”
“I guess it’s none of my business.”
“Don’t friends help friends?”
“Why do I feel a boulder of advice coming my way?”
When she glanced back at him, he was smiling. The one that bedazzled the world. She breathed through the flutter floating through her.
“I’ll say only this, Daffy.” His smile disappeared as he sat up, propping his arms on his bent knees. “If you’re not sure—wait. Be honest. Talk it out with Thomas. Coral and I never talked about whatever bothered her. I was just in go mode. Foot on the gas and driving toward our big fat royal wedding. Robbi and I talked…more like danced, around our feelings. We were afraid of being honest. She didn’t want to hurt me. I didn’t want to look the fool with another breakup. But then she ran into her ex and had no choice but to tell me she still loved him.”
“I am honest with Thomas.” The words I think hovered. She wasn’t honest with him. Nor was he with her. She was sure. Blinky’s revelation was proof.
“We should go up to the Hand of God.” Gus stood, facing west, in the direction of the channel and the famous cutout in the rocks. “Then you’ll really be on top of the world.”
“You go. I’ll cheer you from the quay.”
“Are you really so afraid of heights?”
“Yes.” Or sometimes just afraid. Of getting it wrong. Of being selfish. Of being too self-focused. Of believing she had a privilege or right when, in fact, she didn’t.
“I’ll hold your hand,” he said.
“The queen won’t thank either of us when I fall and take you with me.”
Gus laughed. “I feel a challenge coming on. Get Daffy Caron to the Hand of God by next week or my name isn’t His Royal Highness Prince Augustus Carwyn George.”
When he was relaxed, truly himself, HRH Prince Gus was almost irresistible. Daffy was grateful for her coat and jumper which hid her tumultuous, traitorous heartbeat.
She blamed the hamlet. The romance of the mountain, the cliffs, the contrast of budding green meadows against blue skies. She blamed the wind, the snow, the shorthand speech of Ernst. It was as if all of Dalholm existed to charm and woo.
She’d not be duped into a fantasy. She had love. In Port Fressa. With Thomas. Who she first fell for in Dalholm. So there.
“I lied.” Gus’s words broke through her act of mental defiance, so low Daffy wasn’t sure he meant her to hear. “About hating her. Coral. Most days I wonder if I’m still trying to fall out of love. How to untangle myself from what I’d planned…envisioned…with every part of my being.”
Daffy rose from the rocks and stood next to Gus.
“I was completely and utterly in love.” He continued, never looking at her, only toward the Hand of God. “I had zero reservations or qualms about what we were doing. I wanted no other woman and committed my life to hers. I was ready to speak the vows and ‘therefore pledge thee my troth.’”
He recited the ancient words with sobriety.
“Then talk to her, Gus. You can’t let this simmer. You have to hear her truth. Her reasons.”
“Other than me being a reject?”
“Don’t make me wash your mouth with soap.”
His chuckle was low. “You and what army?”
“I don’t know but I’ll…” She grinned. “Hemstead.”
“Blimey, you got me there. He’d love to punish me for leaving him behind.” He’d sent a raging text while Daffy steered the cart over a concoction of soggy grass, melting snow, and muddy rocks. “Know what else?”
“Tell me.”
“Coral didn’t deserve the whacking she got in the press. She’s a truly genuine, lovely, intelligent, witty woman. Caring.”
“Which is why you fell in love. Why her leaving hurt.”
“So, wise one, how do I move on from what I thought my life was going to be? How do I fall out of love with the expectation? How do I trust myself to love again?”
“If I knew those answers, I’d have my own TV show.” She nudged his broad shoulder with hers. “But I’ll say this. Just because it didn’t work out doesn’t mean you can’t love her. As a friend. As someone who meant something to you once. Love is free, Gus. We can love whomever we want. We don’t need to wait for them to love us back. It’s powerful, really, when you think about it.”
Gus dropped his arm about her shoulder. “Thomas is a lucky bloke. I won’t deny it.”
Silence fell. The kind that comes during contemplation. The kind that pulls truth from the soul. They both returned to their respective rocks. Then she said it. No preamble.
“They were arguing over my ring. Yesterday. When you came upon us.” Daffy cradled her left hand on her lap. “Blinky let it slip that Thomas bought it two years ago for Sorcha, his former girlfriend.”
“Does she have it out for you? How does ‘He bought the ring for another lass’ just slip out? She wanted to say it.”
“You have to know Blink. She speaks first and thinks later. We’re all used to her. She’s a loyal friend, sweet and kind. Never means harm.”
“How did she know Thomas bought it for someone else?”
“She was with him when he made the purchase.”
“She was—” Gus put his hand to his ear and pretended to make a call. “Hello, Thomas, this is Prince Augustus. Buy your lass a new ring, mate, immediately. By royal command.”
“Stop. It’s fine.” Daffy swatted his hand. “Thomas Dune is a practical man. If Sorcha never knew the ring existed, why return it? Or sell it for a loss?”
“Dune? Your married name will be Daffodil Dune? Sounds like a pseudonym for a romance author. One whose heroes are bare-chested on the covers.”
She laughed. “You sound like my father.”
“Doesn’t he like your chap?”
“Well enough. But he wants grandchildren, so any man will do.”
“Seriously?”
“Not the any man part. But most certainly on the grandchildren. He also wants his daughters in happy relationships.” Daffy adjusted how she sat on the rock, but the cold and wet started to seep through her clothes. “He wants to stop worrying about us.”
“He’s a good father. Now, back to this ring. Why the row among your friends?”
“They thought he should’ve given me a new ring.” Daffy touched the platinum shank with her thumb. “Thomas argued Sorcha never saw it. Didn’t even know about it. So why not use it? It was expensive.”
“The only person who matters is you. What do you think?” Gus said.
“I think—” If she were to script the perfect proposal—her perfect proposal—it would not include a ring purchased for another woman. “I think he meant well.”
“You’re letting him off. Come on, Daff. If I’d given Robbi the ring I’d chosen for Coral, what would you say?”
“I’d probably smack you upside the head. Your fiancée deserves a ring that represents how you feel about her. Perhaps a precious heirloom. A family jewel that represented love.”
“What’s different here then? With T
homas?”
She shrugged, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I guess because—”
“You don’t think you deserve a ring he bought just for you.”
“What? It’s not a matter of deserve. It’s practical.” She held up her hand. “You can’t deny the ring is beautiful. And in twenty years, am I going to care Thomas first bought this ring for his ex-girlfriend? It’ll be part of our family lore. A recurring joke. ‘Hey, remember the time Dad gave you another woman’s ring, Mum?’”
“I don’t care about twenty years from now.” Gus held her face in his hands. “What about now?”
Her eyes filled, blurring Gus’s image, and she pulled away from him. “It’s not the ring. I’m…scared. I don’t know if…if I want to marry him. Pledge my troth. But decent chaps don’t come along every month or even every year. I’ve had two boyfriends in my life. Two. Rex and Thomas. Five years in between.”
“So you say yes to a decent bloke—even when you’re afraid and unsure? Does that sound like a recipe for happiness?”
“But I am happy. If not, I should be. We can make it work. Lots of couples have doubts in the beginning.”
“You need to talk to him. Tell him how you feel. Don’t repeat my mistake.” Gus scooted on to her rock and drew her close with a one-armed hug. Then he gently pressed a kiss to her forehead. For too brief a moment, a warmth, a sense of right-place, right-time enveloped her. “You deserve every dream in your heart, Daffy.”
“Why? Why do I deserve that?” She pushed away from him. This…this…thing between them was getting out of hand.
“Because—” His palm brushed her cheek as he swept back her hair. “You’re… I don’t know…” He looked off toward the hills, a red tint shading his cheeks. “Lovely. In every sense of the word.”
Lovely. Prince Gus declared her lovely. Okay, she’d deal with the thing between them later. For now, she’d to cling to his compliment.
Gus finally stood and offered his hand. “Feel like a walk along the shore? It’s a bit of a climb down this way. You game?”
“You’re blushing,” she said, reaching for his hand. “Did you catch my disease?”
“I’m not blushing. It’s the chill in the wind. The question is why you’re not blushing. Are you so used to me already?” He laughed but the short burst never reached his eyes. “Because that would make me sad.”
“You’re either teasing me or flirting with me.” Her voice remained a whisper, the words tossed away by a breeze.
“I am. I’m sorry.” He released her hand and stepped away. She never felt so cold. “Come on,” he said. “To the shore.”
As they maneuvered the path down to the beach, Daffy Caron knew one thing for sure. Right here, right now, was exactly where she wanted to be.
“Should we start a contest to see who will go with Prince Gus to the wedding ball?”
–Madeline and Hyacinth Live!
“We expect to see the prince at the ball but not with anyone on his arm. He’s still working his way back to romance.”
–Leslie Ann Parker on the Morning Show
Chapter Eighteen
Gus
By Monday morning, he’d settled the wedding ball menu, all thanks to Daffy, who’d offered her suggestions Sunday evening via email.
She was just down the corridor, across the Grand Gallery, and down another passageway, but he couldn’t see her. They exchanged emails as if miles apart. Seemed odd after being so honest during their lake outing.
But that was the nature of relationships. One needed to let them be. Breathe. And to always stay within the proper boundaries—especially if one was a royal. Daffy may have confessed her doubts about Thomas, but she still wore his ring. Secondhand ring, but there you have it.
The final menu was stellar. In place of squid or tater tots, the ball guests would dine on London broil, saddle of lamb, roasted goose, and wild salmon, along with an herb salad, creamed spinach, wild mushrooms and rice, and roasted baby vegetables.
For dessert, the Port Fressa parfait, a sherry trifle, and chocolate cake for John, since it was his favorite. There would be a fruit buffet with nuts, cheese, and sauces. To drink, wine and champagne from Lauchtenland’s The Haskells many wineries, and a fountain flowing with a lemon-lime punch.
All the busywork had kept him from sorting through the excursion to Pontus Lake and the deep heart confessions between him and Daffy.
He’d never told anyone he still loved Coral. He wasn’t certain he’d realized the truth until he said it out loud to Daffy. Or how difficult it was to untangle his feelings from their commitment.
He’d spent two years trying and failing. Yet once he confessed, he seemed less burdened. Then Daffy’s advice, so on point, so unusual, helped him see everything in a new light.
“We can love whomever we want.”
Gus could love Coral. Not like a husband, of course, but as someone he cared about. Past tense. Though it felt a bit like self-betrayal to care about someone who hurt him so deeply, he was actually free to love without expecting something in return.
Knock him over with a feather, but the idea was glorious.
“Did you sort out the menus?” Stern stood when Gus entered the office. “I was just going over your diary… Are you all right, Your Highness? You’re…” He pulled a face. “Glowing.”
“Glowing? That’s something you say to a bride-to-be, Stern, like Lady Holland.” Gus picked up his tablet and reviewed his calendar. “I had a good afternoon at the lake. Got some fresh air and sun. Where are we off to this morning? The Youth League? I’m eager to see the lads and lasses in a game of football or field hockey.”
“The press will be there.” Stern straightened his shoulders, his expression bland. “Reporters for the News Leader, the Dalholm Daily, London Times, New York Times, as well as several photographers, and social media outlets. The usual brood.”
“Only questions about sports, Lauchtenland’s children and what the Family hopes for the future. Nothing personal.”
“Your brother’s wedding?”
“Yes, they can ask about the wedding and the ball. Anything else, I won’t answer.” His Daffy-inspired glow gave him the courage to take command. Be who he wanted to be. “Also, I need to be back here by one o’clock. I’ve something to do.”
Stern frowned. “It’s not on your diary, sir.”
“It’s on my diary. Not yours. It’s all on the level.” Sort of.
“Yes, sir.” Stern reached for his coat. “We should go down. Hemstead and the car are waiting.”
* * *
“Prince Gus Tackled Big Tech in Dalholm. Today he tackled youth sports. Check out our footage of the prince on the pitch.”
–The News Leader MidDay Update
The prince praises Lauchtenland youth. “Our future is bright.” Also toured Smart Life’s new facility. Brags on their ingenuity and initiatives. Believes Lauchtenland will become a leader and force in technology.
–@Dalholm Daily Twitter
Prince Gus is lOOking good on the pitch today with Youth League members. Dressed in gray Armani slacks and white button-down, he won the day. Swipe up to see more photos. The last one shows his world-famous smile. You’ll swoon, I promise.
–The Royal Blue Eye Instagram
* * *
“Sorry I’m late.” Gus shed his coat and reached for the apron he’d used Saturday. The shop door was open, letting in the cold. But Emmanuel had stoked the potbelly stove with firewood and the hot glow from the firebox warmed the work space.
“Busy morning?”
“I visited the Youth League, then held a short presser. How did our legs turn out?”
“See for yourself.” Emmanuel had removed them from the clamp and set them aside.
The putty had filled in the cracks and breaks, but both legs pretty much looked, well, broken.
“Please tell me we’re going to refine these. Otherwise, the gig is up.”
“All refining, or healing, com
es in phases.” Emmanuel set two small dowel rods on the workbench, along with the drill. “You can’t expect phase one to look like the final product.” He popped Gus gently on the arm. “Embrace the process with its pain and ugliness and you’ll soon find yourself at a beautiful end.”
The old man’s words were jovial, almost spritely, but they hit Gus square. A flash of heat washed down his neck and back as their eyes met. Emmanuel wasn’t talking about repairing the ancient chair.
“You’ll appreciate this.” The carpenter rotated the seat and pointed to an intricate carving. “Your ancestor’s initials. He was only twenty-two when he conquered the Normans.”
Gus leaned to see THB1066 whittled in the base of the chair. He traced the lettering with his fingertip, his long-ago relative becoming a bit more real.
“I was just finishing uni at twenty-two and destined for the Royal Army.” As a prince, he lived in splendor and privilege. His most taxing duty was deciding weekend plans.
“Titus was a brave, bold soul,” Emmanuel said. “Loved well too. Like you. Now let’s get to work.”
Emmanuel explained the next phase, but all Gus could hear was Emmanuel’s declaration, “Loved well. Like you.” He should challenge the man. “How do you know me?” Yet deep down he wanted to believe he loved well. Or could love well. And not fail trying.
“Emmanuel, you seem to know a lot about old Titus. Almost as if you knew him. How do you know he loved well?”
“Ah, well, a man hears things.”
“Still, you talk as if—”
Hemstead’s text interrupted Gus’s thought. Hashtag trouble.
Where are you?
On the grounds. All is well.
Where on the grounds?
Gus ignored the request for his location. He’d risk Hemstead’s wrath to keep the condition of the chair a secret.
“Where were we?”
“Fixing the chair. We need to fortify the legs.”
