by Rachel Hauck
To Love a Prince
by Rachel Hauck
To Love A Prince
Copyright © 2020 by Rachel Hauck. [email protected]
Published by Hauck House
All rights reserved. This book is a copyrighted work and no part of it may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photographic, audio recording, or any information storage and retrieval system) without permission in writing from the author. The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or any other means without a legal purchase or without permission from the author is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized editions.
Scripture quotations are from the New American Standard Bible® (NASB), copyright © 1960, 1962, 1963, 1968, 1971, 1972, 1973, 1975, 1977, 1995 by The Lockman Foundation. Used by permission. www.Lockman.org
This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, incidents and dialogues are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author.
Cover Design: Kristen Ingebretson
Map Design: Penmagiccards
Digital Formatting: Author E.M.S.
Table of Contents
TO LOVE A PRINCE
Copyright
Reviews & Endorsements for Rachel Hauck
Dedication
Map
Let’s begin here…
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Let’s end here…
Thank you to…
Author Note
About the Author
More by Rachel Hauck
Reviews & Endorsements for Rachel Hauck
TO LOVE A PRINCE
“Another compelling royal story by the master of princely tales!”
—Susan May Warren, USA Today bestselling, RITA award–winning novelist
“To Love a Prince is breathtaking and enchanting! Rachel Hauck is the queen of inspirational royal romance.”
—Teri Wilson, bestselling author of Unleashing Mr. Darcy and Christmas Charms
“Hauck has taken elements we love from fairy tales and given them a fresh twist in a modern setting. A delightful read!”
—Becky Wade, bestselling and Christy Award winning author
THE FIFTH AVENUE STORY SOCIETY
“Hauck intertwines the stories of five New Yorkers who each receive a mysterious invitation to join a “story society” in this exhilarating inspirational… Hauck inspires and uplifts with this mix of tales. Readers who enjoy Karen Kingsbury will love this.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Rachel Hauck’s rich characterization and deft hand with plotting and setting had me enthralled until I turned the last page of this superb novel. Fifth Avenue Story Society is truly a masterpiece—a one-of-a-kind novel that lingers long after the last page is turned. This is one I’ll reread often, and it should garner Hauck much well-deserved acclaim. This should be on everyone’s shelf
—Colleen Coble, USA Today bestselling author
THE WEDDING SHOP
“I adored The Wedding Shop! Rachel Hauck has created a tender, nostalgic story, weaving together two pairs of star-crossed lovers from the present and the past with the magical space that connects them. So full of heart and heartache and redemption, this book is one you’ll read long into the night, until the characters become your friends, and Heart’s Bend, Tennessee, your second hometown.”
—Beatriz Williams, New York Times bestselling author
THE WEDDING CHAPEL
“Hauck tells another gorgeously rendered story. The raw, hidden emotions of Taylor and Jack are incredibly realistic and will resonate with readers. The way the entire tale comes together with the image of the chapel as holding the heartbeat of God is breathtaking and complements the romance of the story.”
—RT Book Reviews, 4.5 stars, TOP PICK!
THE WEDDING DRESS
“Hauck weaves an intricately beautiful story centering around a wedding dress passed down through the years. Taken at face value, the tale is superlative, but considering the spiritual message on the surface and between the lines, this novel is incredible. Readers will laugh, cry and treasure this book.”
—RT Book Reviews, TOP PICK!
THE ROYAL WEDDING SERIES
“Perfect for Valentine’s Day, Hauck’s latest inspirational romance offers an uplifting and emotionally rewarding tale that will delight her growing fan base.”
—Library Journal, starred review of How To Catch A Prince
“Hauck spins a surprisingly believable royal-meets-commoner love story. This is a modern and engaging tale with well-developed secondary characters that are entertaining and add a quirky touch. Hauck fans will find a gem of a tale.”
—Publishers Weekly starred review of Once Upon a Prince
To Colleen Coble for all the years of friendship and cheerleading.
Let’s begin here…
1938
Dalholm, Northton, Lauchtenland
It’s said in the north country of Lauchtenland that the sea has a song and love blooms from the earth the same as flora and fauna. It perfumes the air and touches lives in ways no one quite understands.
Beware then, if you travel north to Dalholm, County Northton, where the wind sings through the Highcrest Mountains. Expect a bit of fairy dust on your heart. Expect to fall in love. Yes, even you.
For Taffron Björk, love saved him. If the tales of love amounted to nothing more than folklore, he’d still be a believer. He’d be forever grateful to his hometown’s legend of love. To his wife, Eileen, and their sixty years of marriage.
Where would he be without her?
On this fine morning of his eighty-second birthday, Taffron woke with a dagger of sunlight in his eye and the song of spring birds in his ears. Eileen had let him slumber too long, lounge in bed like a lazybones.
Will something good happen today?
He moved from his bed to the water closet with a spring in his step. Showered and shaved, nicking his jiggling jowls as he hurried over his whiskers with a straight edge. Tended the wound with a bit of cotton, and dressed in slacks, pressed shirt, and tie.
He may be nothing more than a simple tailor, but he must always give the appearance of a man of means, like the designer he’d wanted to be. The designer he’d once been. A shooting star across the world of fashion—ever so briefly.
Checking his nick before heading downstairs—the aroma of breakfast teased his senses—he regarded his lined reflection.
Age and time hadn’t dulled his blue-eyed sparkle. Well, not much. And the unruly mop of gray hair atop his head remained full.
Thanks to Eileen’s pestering about brushing, he still had a good set of teeth. Some mi
ght laugh, but these things mattered to the aged. His hearing lacked for nothing either.
Still, what had he done important in life? Did his existence matter? Had he made a difference? Touched someone’s life in a way that they would remember him?
Eileen would insist, “Of course, you silly jester. You made her gown. Princess Louisa’s.” His wife was only indulging him. Seems she’d pledged to do so in their wedding vows.
Yes, he’d designed a wedding gown for a princess, but he’d not seen her since the wedding. She was a mother herself with a married princess daughter. Yet Taffron’s phone did not ring. He’d not been invited to be a part of the daughter’s day.
Taffron wagged a finger at his reflection. “Get over yourself, old man. You had your chance. Your one day.”
What a day it was too. Chosen in 1898 to design the wedding gown for Princess Louisa, eldest daughter of King Rein III of the House of Blue. Together they created a unique and timeless dress. And for a brief moment, the poor boy from Dalholm, County Northton, Lauchtenland, was a star.
But he’d been reminded stars don’t shine forever. They burn with all their might, then poof! Vanish into nothing.
Taffron blazed onto the fashion scene with a stunning gown for a royal wedding, convinced he’d finally, finally arrived. Made his mark. Yet within a year of the princess’s wedding, his name and face faded from the fashion world’s view.
For the past forty years he put food on the table by marking and penning men’s suits and sewing ladies’ dress hems.
“Morning, wife.” He kissed Eileen, who hovered over the cooker in the warm and bright kitchen.
Her eyes laughed as she picked away his cotton swab and handed him his cup of tea. “Sharpen your razor, love. That’s the third time this week.” She combed her slender fingers through his hair. “Happy birthday. Eighty-two and still as handsome as ever.”
“Eighty-two and old, you mean. Love, where’s the time gone?” Setting his tea aside, he stepped from the kitchen onto the porch and faced the wind and the North Sea channel.
His gaze drifted along the rim of a shredded red sky toward the foothills, then around to the cliffs high above the water, to the cleft known as the Hand of God, carved into the stone by time, wind, and rain.
The last time he navigated the steep pathway cut into the granite wall to sit in the grassy cleft, he’d been a much younger man. A desperate man.
But he’d found answers. If he could, he’d climb again. But his legs were too shaky. His knees too weak.
Behind him the screen door creaked. “Birthdays tend to make us all reflect, do they not?”
Eileen rested her head on his shoulder. “You’re remembering the day you climbed the rocks?”
“Emmanuel came shortly after. Next thing I know, I’m designing a wedding gown for Princess Louisa. I thought we’d arrive, Eily. Believed I’d achieved my dream. One lucky break with a princess orchestrated by a man we’d never seen, nor would see again, and we were destined for Milan, Paris, New York. I thought I’d be designing haute couture for movie stars and aristocrats the rest of my life.”
“I know you don’t mean to sound ungrateful, Taff, but has our life in Dalholm been so terrible? So unfulfilling?”
“No, love, no.” He wrapped his arm about her and kissed the top of her head. “You are the light of my life. It’s just… Eighty-two and what’ve I done of any importance? What legacy do I leave behind? Besides one princess wedding gown?”
“One that remains a standard, even today. Brides still want a gown like the Louisa.”
He peered down at her. Even with age, she was as beautiful as the day they’d met. The laugh lines stretching from the corners of her hazel eyes were evidence he’d been a decent husband, if not a good one, despite all of his disappointments and failures.
“I’ll try to be cheery today. After all, a man only turns eighty-two once.”
“I see what you’re thinking, old man, and I’m telling you now, your life has value. Look at how you’ve loved and cared for me. It may not be something tangible one can leave behind like money or a house, or furniture, a painting, or—”
“A gown that sings when the wearer moves.”
“I’m not sure it sang, darling, but yes, it was spectacular. I just believe our love and life are as good as a royal wedding dress. After we’re long gone, our goodwill toward mankind will remain.”
“You are right, my love, as always. Except that gown did sing. Like the song in the hills.”
That’s what they said when Princess Louisa appeared in the nave of Clouver Abbey. “Her gown seems to sing as she moves.”
“I stand corrected. I remember what the News-Leader reporter wrote. ‘She was like a living and breathing melody. I’ve never before seen music, or a woman, more beautiful.’” Eileen leaned against him.
“You are my forever champion, Eileen.” Taffron kissed her head. “I adore you for it. You still capture my heart with a single glance.”
She laughed and patted his breeze-tousled hair. “You’re under a Dalholm spring spell. I’m sure I’ve not captured anyone’s heart with a single glance in decades—if ever.”
“Not true, darling, not true.” Taffron lowered his lips to hers and kissed her with a young man’s vigor. “I’m still under the spell of Mrs. Eileen Björk, neé Hinkley.”
“Have I been enough?” she whispered, grazing the razor nick with her fingertips and brushing away the remaining cotton fibers. “Did I hold you back from your dream? From Milan and Paris?”
“Never. You saw what happened. I tried to take us to Milan, then Paris. Even New York. Every door closed.”
“What about children? Aren’t they the best legacy? And here we are, more than well down the path, childless.”
“Now look at what I’ve done.” He held her hands to his thick chest. “I’ve made you brood as well. Pay no mind to this doddering old fool who’s feeling sorry for himself. I’ve lived a blessed life, and you have been more than enough. We have our health. We have each other. Our old shop above the quay. Why, we couldn’t afford to buy this today. Did I tell you an estate agent rang and offered me more than I ever imagined?”
Eileen’s eyes widened. “You turned him down, I hope.”
“Of course, love. This is our home, where we and our memories live.”
“Where you made the dress. Taffron, most men dream of things they never, ever achieve. Not even a little. But look at you. Chosen from all the designers in the world by Princess Louisa to make her wedding gown. The poor lass never looked so beautiful. She was incredibly grateful, remember? Saying how you made her feel special, like a real princess. Imagine. A princess wanting to feel like a princess. But you have a way, Taff. A way of making everyone feel special. It’s a gift, I say, a gift.”
“She was lovely. I so enjoyed working with her. But that was a long time ago. Let’s not think of it any longer. I’m ruining my day. What’s past is past.”
“Taffron, look at me.” Eileen’s tone was as firm as her grip on his hands. “What if you were put on this earth to create one extraordinary gown for an ordinary, insecure princess? You can count on one hand how many designers dressed a royal on her wedding day. Even less if they made someone like Louisa shine at her most critical hour. That is who you are, love. You make gowns for women who need to know who they are, who need to feel beautiful, accepted. She needed to feel she was a princess. Not just know she was one because her father was the king.”
“You are wise, my wife.” Taffron turned his attention once again to the cliff that held the Hand of God.
Shipwrecked sailors named the cliff-top, carved-out nook over three hundred years ago when their vessel shattered on the channel rocks during a storm. Miraculously, they somehow survived the sea, scaled the rough, sheer rock face, and found shelter.
When asked how they survived, they said, “The Hand of God.”
“Do you think some are born for one solitary purpose and no other?”
“The go
od Lord only had one purpose. Do you suppose you are better than He?”
Taffron laughed. “I can’t quarrel with you now. You’ve trumped me with the Almighty.”
“I’ll have to tell the other wives my secret for besting my husband. Now let me get on with your breakfast.”
Taffron gave her bottom a loving tap as she turned to go. Eileen swished her behind from side to side, her flirtatious wink tossed over her shoulder causing his heart to quicken.
She paused at the kitchen door. “Taffron Björk, you are somebody to me. You made a difference in my life. I don’t know where I’d be without you. Isn’t that more enduring and lasting than if you’d designed the most beautiful gowns in Europe?”
Taffron gazed again toward the Hand of God as Eileen’s words cut through him. How selfish to long for what he never achieved while disregarding what he had—a beautiful life with his beautiful wife. But still…
