by Rachel Hauck
“One time, and only because you fell.”
“I seem to remember several times.” The tension he’d carried from his place to hers began to evaporate. He kicked at the sand and let the wind comb through his hair. “So are you and this Thomas serious?”
“I’m not sure. But we enjoy each other’s company. We have a routine.”
“I’m sorry I barged into your place like a raging lunatic.”
“I’m sorry Leslie Ann exposed your hideaway.” The wind blew her auburn hair about her face and shoulders. “I’d not tell your secret unless you were dying and maybe not then. I know how to keep a Blue family secret.”
“A Blue family secret?” He peered past her shoulder toward the cottage. They were being watched. “And what would that be?”
If he remembered correctly, he was about twelve when the queen’s security introduced new measures and the children of staff, even those of her personal secretary, were no longer allowed in the palace. Not above stairs, anyway. Not in the royal quarters.
That’s why they’d lost touch and he didn’t see her again, save for the occasional state dinner where she helped out the dining staff.
“Look, you should go. I’m sure your boss—Helene, is it?—needs fair warning.”
“You didn’t answer my question. Do you have a Blue secret?”
“Forget what I said.”
Gus regarded her for a moment. Other than himself and John, Daffy had only been around his parents. In fact, she’d been rather close with his mother. Until security changed everything. But she couldn’t have anything on the queen and king consort. They were above reproach. Especially the queen.
“If you had a secret since you were a girl, you’d have told someone by now.”
“Not necessarily. What if I did have a secret? What if I understood, even as a girl, the importance of holding my tongue? I am a loyal royalist and a secret keeper.”
“Then tell me. I am a loyal royalist as well. What do you know?” He squinted at her. “You can’t be referencing Queen Catherine II. She’s the greatest regent Lauchtenland’s ever known. A virtuous leader. So, are you hinting at something about my father?”
“Don’t listen to me. I say foolish things. The queen is a virtuous leader and, Prince Gus, I’ve no secret. But if I did, I’d not tell you.” She offered him a slow smile. “Then it wouldn’t be a secret.”
“You’re having me on. You’re being Daffy the trickster.”
“I should go. We’re touring the cape this morning. So, if I don’t see you here, or at home, I wish you all the best, Prince Gus. Or shall I say Pete?”
“Daffy, again, I’m sorry.” He motioned to the cottage where Leslie Ann and Ella sat on the deck, chins in their hands, watching. “I was angry. It gets old, you see, everyone criticizing, mocking, waiting for me to fail. Me feeling like I let the Family down.”
“No one is waiting for you to fail. You didn’t let your family down. Forget the Leslie Anns of the world. She’s only out for herself. I love her, but it’s true. You know she never remembers my birthday? Never. And at Christmas she sends me a cheap bauble she found on Amazon. I can’t think of a time she did something for me or gave me something that was actually meaningful. It’s just who she is. Do forgive her.”
“I forgive you. She may take some time.”
“Fine but do yourself a favor, sir. Stop seeing yourself as the one prince in all of royal history who was jilted at the altar. Begin to see yourself as a man worthy of love. Of a life.”
“You make it sound so simple. Frankly, I’m not sure I am.”
“Of course you are, and it is simple.”
“You almost make me believe.”
“Good. I know you have questions, but if you keep doubting, you’ll never find the one who will fall head over heels in love with you. The one who will be devoted to you. Who will let you love her in return?” She squeezed his arm. “Stop mourning the past. Wake up. It’s a new day. Time to dance. Literally, at your brother’s wedding ball. Whatever you learned here, take it with you and be the man, the prince, you want to be.”
He squared off with her for one, two, three seconds under the endless blue sky and a golden grip of sunlight.
“How’d you get so wise?”
“I used to be friends with a prince. He taught me.”
He laughed. “If only that were true.”
“See you, Prince Gus.”
“See you, Daffodil Caron.”
Gus walked along the water’s edge, wishing everything she said about him and love were true. But deep down he doubted. He feared. Let his brother be the one who found true love and bore the House of Blue heirs.
Gus would watch from the sidelines as the bachelor uncle. The man who struggled to trust his heart again.
Chapter Five
Gus
Capital City, Port Fressa, Lauchtenland
He’d been summoned by the queen. She’d left him alone when he first returned five days ago on the heels of the Morning Show’s breaking story.
After leaving Daffy on the beach, he’d warned Helene of the storm to come and resigned. Nevertheless, by early afternoon, A1A was backed up with traffic to the Melbourne Causeway.
Floridana Beach was overrun with royal seekers, most of them women, the local media, and a few curious pelicans.
At his gated rental, he stayed clear of windows and prepared for a midnight escape to Orlando, checking in at the airport hotel until his flight home late Wednesday.
Meanwhile, Helene updated him every few hours.
We’re out of everything.
We’ve done a month’s business in a night.
She sent a picture of an overflowing, shoulder-to-shoulder crowd.
New barback is a joke. Carmen is only coming in to flirt with the ladies but at least he’s here.
She sent a final message as he boarded his flight to Port Fressa. A selfie of her beleaguered expression, sticking out her tongue.
You just had to be a real prince and now, I’m exhausted. Richer. But exhausted. I’ll miss you, my friend.
He arrived at Perrigwynn Palace Thursday morning and slept until Friday. Unpacked and reacquainted himself with his staff on Saturday then said a quick hello to Mum and Dad.
Sunday he braved a fresh wave of Lauchtenland’s winter and in the evening, as the snow piled high in the city streets, Gus dined with John and Holland.
To his delight, he found he was at rest in the palace and returning to his place as a member of an ancient, royal family. A year and a half ago, he’d felt foreign, rooted in a slough of melancholy. What was his way forward?
He’d shut down after Coral. When he took up with Lady Robbi, he never truly opened up. In hindsight, a wise choice, since the lady was still in love with her ex.
After dinner and a game of billiards with John, he retired early, slept through the night, and rose with just enough time to shower, eat, and make his way through the royal corridors to the queen’s office.
After his meeting with Mum, he was scheduled to meet his new protection officer, organize his diary with his private secretary, Stern, before meeting John tonight, along with school chums Charles, Turner, and Lute, at Pub Clemency. He was looking forward to seeing them again.
The opulence of the palace he called home was an ornate and extravagant contrast to the dull board floor, exposed beams, and beat-up bar of the Captain’s Hideaway.
Dressed in suffocating layers—slacks, blue button-down under a darker blue jumper, regular shoes (not flip-flops,) and socks—Gus looked like his former self. Almost. He’d trimmed his beard close but left his hair long, brushed to a sheen, the waves combed back, yet falling loose about his face.
Down the Queen’s Corridor, he passed under the portraits of his ancestors. Past monarchs whose painted eyes seemed to follow him. What would they say if they were alive today?
“Buck up, lad. Stiff upper lip.”
“Tally ho, into the breach.”
Or worse, recite
the ancient, unwritten Blue motto.
“Take heart. Marriage is a must for every royal Blue. Love is not.”
The tradition began when Great-great-great-great-grandfather Louis, the crown prince, would not decide on a wife. And so his father, the king, decided for him.
“You must marry and produce an heir. Falling in love is a luxury.”
While the saying was refined over the centuries, the sentiment remained the same. Royal Blues married. All of them. Heir or not.
Gus peered up at the portrait of King Louis V. “Thanks, Gramps. What do you do if you’re unlucky in love? Like me?”
Try as he might, Gus could not see himself living fifty, sixty years with someone he merely liked. Call him a romantic, but he wanted heart-pounding love. Memories of passionate nights, giving themselves to one another, exhausted at the end of it all.
He wanted a woman with whom he could relax in the library, reading, breaking the silence every now and then with, “Listen to this line.”
He wanted to romp with their children, to tell them how loved and wanted they were. Teach them football, how to ride horses, and struggle to understand their new math homework.
He was grateful Mum wouldn’t force him into anything. It wasn’t in her modern royal nature. He was confident if he couldn’t find a woman to fit the bill, he’d remain alone.
Confident, yes. Eager about his future? No.
Approaching Mum’s office, Gus braced for a surge of negative sensations that had plagued him the year before he hopscotched over the Atlantic.
He’d had no peace back then. No sense of normalcy. One evening he couldn’t bring himself to drive through the palace gates, so he parked down by the port and slept in his car—much to Mum’s dismay.
Gus had to go to bat for his protection officer, keep him from getting sacked. But he’d sent the man home that night, promising he was going to his apartment. But he never made it.
Mum’s secretary nodded as Gus approached. “She’s expecting you, sir. Welcome home.”
“Good to be home, Mason.”
Mum stood when he entered, removing her reading glasses. If there was a classic “queen” smile, she possessed it. Some said his “world-famous” smile began with her.
“My prodigal has returned.” She reached for his hands as she angled to kiss his cheek, then brought him close for a hug. Her familiar perfume reminded him of the goodness of home. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you,” he said. “But I’m hardly a prodigal, Mum.”
Queen Catherine II was a modern royal. When she found herself queen twenty-five years ago, decades before her time, she brought the House of Blue and every tending service into the technological age.
She’d studied and learned, visited tech companies in the city and around the world. To this day, technical magazines sat on her bedside table. When social media boomed, she was one of the first monarchs to dip her royal oar into the waters.
She modernized policy and procedure, the staff pay, uniforms, and customs, all the while skillfully keeping the valued traditions that made Lauchtenland an ancient European treasure.
East of England, west of Brighton Kingdom, Lauchtenland was a vital ally to the Brits and Brightonians, as well as Sweden, Denmark, and Norway.
A graduate of both Haxton University and Yale, Mum earned degrees in politics, as well as the law. She studied military strategy and knew a good deal about how the economy worked. She kept Lauchtenland leaders and the privy council on their toes.
“You’re tan. I’m a bit jealous.” Mum held him back for inspection, her gaze drifting to his hair and beard.
“The hair stays.” Gus answered her unspoken request. “And the beard.”
“Did I say anything? I’m taking it all in, this new look of yours.”
“Tell me the news.” Gus backed toward the tea trolley. “Are you looking forward to your crown prince’s wedding?”
“Very much. I heard you dined with them last night. What did you think? You’ve known of Holland for a long time, but now that she’s your future sister-in-law, does she come up to the mark?”
“She does. Mostly she makes John happy.” Gus poured two cups of tea, sweetening them both with cream. “I’m only just getting to know the real Lady Holland, but she seems prepared for the life she’s marrying into.” Gone was his American accent. He spoke with the tone and formality of the House of Blue.
Mum reclined in her favorite winged chair while Gus stationed himself by the window. The snow had stopped, but low-flying gray clouds promised a dreary day.
“You’re situated with Stern?” Mum’s teacup was poised by her lips. “He should’ve given you the spring schedule. You’ve a lot to catch up on.”
“He said he’s missed me. Spent the past year twiddling his thumbs. He was more than eager to get to work. We’re meeting this afternoon, but really, Mum, you should’ve reassigned him while I was away.”
“I tried, but he wanted to wait for you.”
“How’d you know I’d come home?”
“Because you’re my son. You may have been knocked down, but you were not out for the count. When John proposed to Holland, it was only a matter of time.”
“Am I so predictable?”
“If by predictable you mean a man who loves his family, a man who is bound by his duty, then yes, you’re predictable, and all the better for it. You saw we have a family dinner tomorrow night and a portrait sitting on Friday?”
“I assume Granny will be at dinner.”
Mum arched her brow. “Unless I want to incur her wrath, yes.”
“Will we have to dissect my life? Starting with being left at the altar?”
Granny kept her royal roots buried in the old days and the old ways. She resented and complained about Mum’s modernizations. She preferred the rules and rigidity of her day when Grandfather was king and she his queen.
“One day we Blues won’t be any different from the people. We’ll be extraneous.”
“I’ve already told her dinner is a celebration, not an inquisition.”
“You think that will stop her?” Gus raised his cup. The hot and creamy tea served in the familiar family china was another bit of home anchoring him in place. He never found a good tea in Florida. Especially at the Captain’s Hideaway. Helene had the most horrid brand.
“Probably not, but you don’t have to answer her.”
“Why not? I’ve nothing to hide. Coral left for her own reasons, and there we are. Robbi and I weren’t right in the end. Then John suggested I go away to recuperate. Charles offered his Florida place. I couldn’t see a reason to turn him down.”
“You didn’t have to stay away so long. You missed the entire renovation of Hadsby Castle, which was your brainchild, by the way.”
“My part was done. I lent nothing to the actual work. You said so yourself. But it’s complete now, sparkling new for John’s wedding ball.” Hopefully any residue of Gus’s wedding ball was removed by hammers then swept away. “I’ve seen pictures. The renovations look spectacular.”
“You can see for yourself. I’m sending you up there next week.”
Gus startled away from the window. “Serious? I just returned and you’re shipping me off? What happened to ‘the prodigal has returned’?”
“You’re not a prodigal. I thought going north would be a simple way to ease you back into your duties. Besides, you love Hadsby. Why not enjoy it before it’s overrun with ball guests and the media?” She set her teacup on a side table and retrieved a folder. “This was just finalized this morning. A copy has been sent to Stern. It’s a list of appearances and visits while in Dalholm. The Youth League and the Berkshire School are very excited you’re coming this year. They’ve missed their patron.”
Gus flipped through the folder. Mum had respectfully filled his diary with weekday duties, leaving his weekends free. A walkabout through the old city, a visit to a new tech company, meetings with the mayor and police commissioner over the influx of
guests and tourists arriving for the ball. A day with the Youth League and another with the Berkshire School.
And the crème de la crème. Wedding ball planning. This would be his true test. Had he really healed in Florida? Or would memories of his wedding ball surface?
“Are the planners the same as, well, mine?” He sat in the chair opposite Mum’s desk.
“Yes. The Northton Planners. It’s all there. They’ve done all the preliminary work. You just have to—”
“Make it about John and Holland.”
“Are you okay with this?” Mum’s gaze softened. “It’s been two years since your ball. But no one can demand a heart move on if it’s not ready.”
“I’m fine. I can do this. Have the invitations gone out?”
“Just. I worked with the designer on them but everything else will be up to you. Music, food, wine, flowers, lighting, the china and crystal.”
“I’ll need to inspect the rooms since they’ve all been redone.”
The dining halls, media rooms, drawing rooms, libraries, and the suites. As the host, he was the one to ensure everything went off without a hitch. Another House of Blue tradition.
“John did a smashing job for me. I won’t let him down.” Gus settled the folder under his chair and finished his tea. “Funny though, I can’t seem to remember much of anything except standing there in Clouver Abbey like a chump.”
“You weren’t a chump. Not now, not then. And isn’t that a good thing to not remember?”
“I suppose, though I have questions and doubts.”
“You should talk to Coral, Gus. She can answer all of those questions. She’s the only one who can set the story straight.”
Leaving the abbey the same way he came in was the most difficult moment of his life. He shut down. Refused to talk to his ex-fiancée. He didn’t care about her reasons. Two years later he couldn’t bring himself to ask. In the meantime, she’d moved on. Recently married.
“I’m not sure I want to hear how I let her down. Or that she never loved me. I’ve put so much behind me I think it’s best to keep it buried.”
