To Love a Prince

by Rachel Hauck

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Coral

  Madison Avenue, New York

  A lot had changed in the last two years. Since she’d gathered her courage and ran from Clouver Abbey without a word to the man waiting at the altar.

  She’d joined a story society that had nothing to do with books and everything to do with hearts, and healing, and true human stories. She’d made new friends, rescued her company from ruin, and fallen in love. From a prince to an Uber driver—who would have ever guessed? Her American version of the would-be princess and the pauper.

  The haunting of what she’d done to Prince Gus had eased, even faded some, but in the deepest parts of her being, she knew their story was not done.

  Gus refused to talk to her after, well, everything. She’d kept silent until an appearance on Good Morning New York a year ago. Even then, she spoke mostly of her new faith. So when Lady Holland called and invited Coral and her new husband, Chuck, to the wedding—a personal, heartfelt invitation—she’d accepted. Of course she wanted to celebrate her friend’s wedding, a friend who was also a business associate. But Holland was marrying into the Family Coral fled.

  But oh, this was her chance to right things with Gus.

  When the official invitation arrived two months ago, she and Chuck began earnest, nightly prayers for Gus, for Coral, and an opportunity for repentance.

  And now she and Chuck were leaving New York on Monday for three weeks. A week in CCW Cosmetics’ London and Port Fressa offices, after which they’d go on vacation, launching their two-week delayed honeymoon with a royal ball and wedding.

  The timing was a bit off. Chuck had just won a bitter custody battle with his ex-wife. This was their first weekend with the seven-year-old twins. Coral was now a stepmom. Wow! As much as the notion warmed her heart, it panicked her. She’d read ten books on the matter already.

  “Did you see the quarterlies on our fabulous preteen lip gloss?” Coral had been staring at her computer screen lost in thought when Lexa Wilder entered with her tablet in hand. “Pink Coral still leads the tweenie market.”

  “Thanks to your genius ad campaign. You’re a marketing guru—and a brilliant CEO.”

  Who knew that the same story society where she’d met her husband would be where she’d find Lexa, now one of her best friends, and CCW’s CEO?

  “I don’t know about brilliant but thank you. By the way, it’s three o’clock. Didn’t you want to leave at three?”

  “Is it three already?” Coral glanced at her watch, reaching for her handbag and laptop case. “The car will be waiting. Lexa, I’m so nervous yet so excited.”

  “Your first weekend as a stepmom. You’ll be amazing. The kids are going to flip over their bedrooms.”

  “You should’ve seen Chuck last night. He woke up every hour to make sure nothing had changed. Like the paint peeling off the wall or the beds collapsing.” Coral laughed at the image of her big teddy bear of a man sneaking out of their room with his phone flashlight aimed at the floor.

  After the custody decree gave him possession of his children again, he spent a week emailing Coral bedroom designs from Pinterest. Who knew the burly man even knew what Pinterest was let alone opened an account.

  “Text me an update when you can. By the way, is everything set with the London and Port Fressa offices for your trip? Do you want to stop in Paris again? You were just there last quarter so—”

  “No. After the wedding we’ll be on vacay for two weeks.”

  “Are you ready?” Lexa quirked an eyebrow. “To see him? Can you believe he spent a year tending bar on a Florida beach?”

  “Believe it or not, yes.” Coral started out the door. “I just want closure, Lexa. I want to say how sorry I am.”

  “Don’t worry. God will open the door.”

  “I’ve rehearsed my speech to him so many times, but when it comes time, I wonder if I won’t just fall apart.” Her eyes filled. “If I could do it all over again—”

  “Don’t fret over what you cannot change. Just have faith. Believe God for what He can do, not what you can do. Aren’t you always telling me to leave the outcome to God?” She smoothed her hand over her baby belly. “You encouraged me so when I was terrified of losing this child.”

  “Listen, don’t preach my own words to me. Those are for you. I’m allowed to wallow in pity and worry.”

  Lexa laughed. “We’ll debate that lie later. For how, get going. Don’t be late for your first weekend with the twins.”

  “Right. I leave you in charge. See you in three weeks.”

  Coral and Lexa walked down the marble-and-stone center staircase. “By the way, we posted the corporate curator job,” Lexa said. “In-house curator to design and oversee the CCW Cosmetic museum. We already have a dozen resumés.”

  “Good. Let’s not settle. Wait for the one right for us. I’d love to take credit for this, but again, your genius took over.”

  “I think a museum will build company pride, help the staff lay hold of what we’re about and who they’re working for when they see the history of the company.” When they got to the street exit, Lexa offered some final advice. “You’re Coral Winthrop Mays, owner and president of one of the world’s oldest and most successful cosmetics companies. Prince Gus is a lowly HRH.” She squeezed her hand. “Make him listen to you.”

  “When you put it like that, I almost believe I can. Nevertheless, I’ll leave the outcome to God.”

  Coral slipped into the back of the waiting black sedan. All she wanted was a chance to say she was sorry. She didn’t expect his forgiveness. She’d not make excuses or point the finger.

  She’d hurt someone she loved and all she wanted was to whisper, “I’m sorry. So very sorry.”

  * * *

  Daffy

  By Friday evening she was spent. Not so much with staging the wedding dresses—only three remained as well as the Unknown Bride—but with the mystery of the blue gown. Adelaide. Emmanuel. The chair. Gus.

  The pictures of Thomas and Blinky on social media and the instilling of doubt.

  But when she talked to Thomas this morning, he’d been kind and loving, even a bit romantic. He said he missed her and ended their brief call with, “I love you.”

  She was certain Blinky was just going bonkers with pictures. She fancied herself a talented amateur photographer.

  By Friday afternoon, the events of the past month tumbled down on her like too many boxes of shoes stuffed onto a closet shelf. She had to break away. Find her norm. Her city. Her people. Her calm, steady life with its predictable job and predictable routine was out of sorts. And Daffy Caron intended to sort it out this weekend.

  She booked passage on the four o’clock Northton Express to Port Fressa, packed a small bag she’d purchased at a quaint little shop in the Old Hamlet, and left Hadsby. Training home in a surprisingly empty third-class car, Daffy stared out the window as small villages, meadows, and farms zipped past, waiting for the moment of relief. Waiting for the clang of, “You’re doing the right thing.”

  Instead, her heart pulled her backward. To Dalholm and Hadsby. To the prince. Was she cheating herself of a final weekend with him? Yes, and being sad about it was totally and completely wrong.

  Upon arriving home, she planned to sort her snail mail, water her dying roses—she felt sure Ella forgot—and take a long soak in her deep, porcelain tub. Then she would fix herself up, fluff out her curls, and head to Pub Clemency to surprise her mates.

  As the train sped down the track, she assessed her life since being conked in the head with a green Frisbee. Seriously, how could she question Thomas and Blinky’s relationship when her own heart teetered on the brink of unfaithfulness?

  She blushed and yearned for the prince. If by some wild dream-come-true miracle Gus actually chose her, the queen would never approve. Daffy refused to live her life under the critical scrutiny of her mother-in-law. Especially Queen Catherine II.

  Furthermore, as if she needed a furthermore, Gus was a
committed bachelor. For the time being anyway.

  Further, furthermore she was engaged. Engaged! Daffy held up her ring hand and stared at the clear and perfect diamond Thomas originally bought for someone else. That’s it, she’d stepped into a Jane Austen novel.

  Either way, going home was prudent. Even necessary. A wise move to save her future and her heart.

  Unlocking the door of her flat, she dropped her bag to the floor and collapsed in the overstuffed chair she’d found at a rummage sale. Home. Peace. Quiet.

  “I’ve missed you, flat.” The Princess Charlotte, while beautiful, had nothing on her place, with the eclectic furnishings, handwoven rugs, and art from local artisans.

  But she didn’t have time to lounge. With only an hour to get ready, she needed to utilize every minute. The lot of them usually met at eight, so Daffy planned a grand entrance around eight-fifteen. No one, not even Ella, knew she was home.

  Her mail went straight into the rubbish, and her roses were one day from joining the mail. Nevertheless Daffy watered them one last time, and as she set the vase on the counter, two petals fluttered to the floor.

  Tossing them in the bin, she spotted the box of things Mum brought round from the garage and read the attached note.

  “Dad found this while cleaning the garage. I found that old diary of yours in here. That being said, you’re getting married. Don’t keep junk. The less you take to your new place the better. You’ll accumulate closetsful by the time it’s all said and done. Live lean. It makes life so much simpler.”

  Love, Mum

  (You’d never know we had the big cleanse of ’09. How could we have collected so much stuff in such a short time? I blame your father. Really I do.  )

  Daffy dropped the note. Mum found the diary? But it’d been missing for so long. Shoving the box contents around, she dug to the bottom, looking for the leather book which held her story, her young dreams.

  But it wasn’t there.

  Daffy pulled out a framed photo of her with Nana and Papa and set it on her kitchen island.

  “Miss you both.”

  Then she dug out three empty frames. They used to hold photos of that lying snake, the cheater Rex Childress.

  Ah, her stuffed bunny. Poor thing. She slept with it every night until well past thirteen. Daffy tucked it under her arm to put on her bed when she went in for her bath.

  She removed books, ribbons, theater tickets, and a pair of socks she stole from a chap at uni—what in the world?—but not the diary.

  Daffy read mum’s note again. “I found that old diary of yours in here.”

  She must have meant she didn’t find it because it wasn’t here. Not even close.

  Well, she had Bunny. Daffy set the pink, stuffed toy against her pillows and apologized for abandoning her. Then she soaked in the tub and tried to imagine everyone’s reaction when she showed up at the pub. She’d missed Thomas. Well, a little. No, more than a little. She missed his familiar scent. The strength of his embrace, the taste of his lips on hers.

  Choosing her finest night-on-the-town clothes—black slacks with a tailored white blouse, Jimmy Choo heels, and her leather coat—Daffy hurried through the Clemency District under blooming cherry trees and glowing street lamps.

  Once inside, she gazed toward their table, expecting to hear a burst of laughter. But the pub overflowed with patrons and she couldn’t get a clear look.

  From the stage, two women sang a classic standard, “Dream a Little Dream,” and mesmerized the patrons.

  Daffy passed their favorite server. “Are they here, Gypsie?”

  “Well, look at you. Where you been?”

  “Working in Dalholm. Hadsby Castle.”

  Daffy squeezed between the tables, nodding at familiar faces. But when she arrived at the large table in the corner by the windows, it was occupied by strangers. Four chaps and three ladies.

  One of them peered up at her. “Can we help you?”

  “No, thank you. I just thought my friends were here tonight.”

  “Sorry, love, but we’ve had this table the last two weeks. Hope we didn’t displace you.”

  “Of course not.” She backed away. “First come, first served. Sorry to have disturbed.”

  Where was everyone? Out on the street, she texted Thomas.

  Where are you?

  Home. Ring you in a bit?

  Sure.

  Little did he know that she’d knock on his door in a few minutes, fall into his arms, and kiss him like a woman in love. She’d repent of her wedding details’ hesitation and dive into the ideas she’d contemplated while soaking in a bubble bath.

  At his building, a nervous shudder had Daffy pulling her leather jacket closer. Riding the elevator to his fifth floor, she pictured his corner view of the city and the port. A lovely place to start married life. They could let her apartment.

  At his door, she rang the bell, resisting the urge to call out, “Thomas, it’s me.”

  Hands in her coat pockets, she shivered again and danced around just a bit. After a few minutes, she knocked and rang the bell again.

  He had said he was home, right? Daffy checked his text to be sure. Ringing the bell again, she was about to call through the heavy steel door when the door jerked open.

  “What in blazes—” He stepped back, grabbing at his open shirt. “D-Daffy?”

  “Surprise!” She sprang toward him, ready for his open arms. But instead, he drew the door half-closed and blocked her entrance.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “What does it look like?” His question was as good as a physical shove. “Surprising you.” What was wrong with him?

  “Love, that’s fantastic, but…but I’m rather busy.” Behind the door, music blared, then faded. An interior door thudded closed.

  “Busy with what? Thomas, who’s here?” Daffy pushed against the door but Thomas remained steady. Immovable.

  “I said I’d call you later.”

  “But I’m here now. Thomas, what’s going on?”

  “Let her in, Tom.”

  He glanced into the flat. “I don’t think—”

  “Blinky?” Daffy ducked under his arm to find her friend in the living room, dressed in a very tight cocktail dress, her bouffant hair in a Marilyn Monroe mess.

  Daffy buckled, reaching for the nearest chair. “Do I need to ask?”

  The scene said it all. Tapered candles flickering from the dining table in the windowed corner. Soft music in the background. Blinky dressed to kill. Thomas staring at his feet while he buttoned his shirt.

  “We didn’t mean to fall in love, Daff. Believe me.” Blinky’s typically high, fast voice was low and slow. Thomas walked around Daffy to stand beside Blink. “But—”

  “You started spending a lot of time together.” Daffy closed her eyes as the light in the room dimmed, vanishing into a black hole that beckoned her. “I saw the pictures you posted.”

  “It was nothing at first, I promise.” This from Thomas. “I didn’t know I could fall for someone so fast.”

  Daffy clung to her handbag as if it could hold her steady, help her survive sinking through the airless room. “So, you’re in love?”

  “We didn’t mean—”

  “You’re in love?” Hearing it spoke left her weak. “W—what happened?”

  “We went to Saldings on the Waterfront and had a blast, but it was all for you. Truly.” Blinky’s smile wavered.

  “We started talking about wedding venues and texting, then we discovered we had a lot in common.”

  Blinky forced a laugh. “The wild child and the buttoned-up CPA. Who’d have guessed?”

  “If you didn’t love me, Thomas, why did you propose?” She glared at Blinky. Why didn’t she excuse herself so she and Thomas could talk?

  “I thought it was time. I adored you, and we got on so well, but now I think we’re actually too much alike.”

  The first tear always burned the hottest. Daffy caught the drop with the back of her gl
oved hand. But somewhere inside of her, a loud, resounding clang sounded.

  “This is the right thing.”

  “I’m sorry you found out this way, Daff.” Thomas started to reach for Blink’s hand then stopped and stepped toward Daffy. “This is actually our first official date. We talked about everything tonight. What was happening between us. What this meant for you.”

  “Looks like you were up to something more than talking.” Daffy pointed to Blinky’s hair.

  “We might have, um, gotten, um, carried…” Blinky cleared her throat as she patted down her messy locks. “Daffy, you’re one of my best friends. I’d never intentionally hurt you.”

  “Then there’s nothing more to say.” Daffy removed her glove, slipped Thomas’s ring from her finger, and set it on the nearest end table. “When you propose to Blinky, Tom, buy her a new ring. Give this one away. Or make it into a necklace.”

  Thomas intercepted her as she made for the door. “I am truly sorry, love. Please believe me.”

  Daffy reached up and brushed his hair aside and straightened his unbuttoned collar. “I know.” Why did tears insist on falling? “I should go.”

  Thomas drew her into a hug and kissed her forehead. “Maybe, in time, we can be friends.”

  “Maybe.” She reached for the doorknob.

  “Daffy?” Blinky, this time. “You might consider that you’re in love with the prince. The way you defended him at the lodge…”

  Daffy remained facing the door. “I didn’t want Leslie Ann to get to him.”

  “You jumped over a large couch and tackled her. And I saw how you looked at him.”

  “Let’s not try to change the focus of this conversation, all right?”

  Daffy left without another word or backward glance. She’d just crossed the lobby when Blinky called her name and marched toward her like a familiar friend, not the woman cheating with her fiancé.

  “I’m going to say this, whether you want to hear it or not. The prince has to get over Coral and Lady Robbi sooner or later. Why not you?”

  “I’m afraid he’s planning on later. Much later. And there are a lot of reasons, royal reasons, why not me.”