To Love A Prince (True Blue Royal Book 1)

by Rachel Hauck

  “In so many words. Just how she went on and on about how this girl—she—who was turning sixteen and something about a cotillion. Which I had to look up later. Anyway, she said she’d not seen her since she was a baby. It was hard to understand everything because she cried the whole time, telling some bloke named Trent that she missed her. I remember his name because of a chap in my class at school. She asked if he was a good father.” An old memory surfaced. “Mum, I just remembered. The queen also asked if the girl wondered about her. If she did, what did he say?”

  “That’s right. I remember you telling me.”

  “I’m sure I wrote it down.”

  Dad rocked back in his chair with a low whistle, propping his coffee cup on his chest. “Just goes to show you that you never really know about people. Morwena, you don’t have a secret child, do you?”

  “I was a virgin when we married, so you know I don’t. Do you?” Mum’s stern face made Dad smile.

  “You know I don’t.” He winked at Mum. “Daff, you’re a sharp cookie. Figuring all that out and only telling your mum. I’m proud of you. Most kids would let it out sooner or later.”

  “If Gus and I had gone on, become engaged, I would’ve had to tell him, don’t you think? Either way, the question is moot now.”

  “Why’d you write it in your diary? It wasn’t even a diary, it was a romantic fantasy novel.” Ella reached over and took a bite of Daffy’s cake.

  “Mum suggested it.”

  “I’d moved to the Royal Trust by then so Daffy went to the palace on her own.” Mum picked up the story. “When the new security protocols came down, I didn’t think it had anything to do with her. Then she told me what happened.”

  “We talked about it, love,” Dad said. “Decided it had more to do with the princes growing up, increasing their friend circle, than Daffy’s free rein.”

  “But why ban Daffy for what she might have heard? Why not say she was talking about a niece or a friend’s child? And, Daffy, you know I’m so sorry.” Ella added yet another apology to the one she’d uttered with tears.

  “I know.” Daffy stretched across the table to squeeze her sister’s hand. “Leslie Ann isn’t, I don’t think.”

  “Six months or so after the new security protocol, I finally had a moment to speak to the queen.” Mum sat forward, cupping her coffee. “I asked if Daffy was not allowed in the palace. We’d been keeping her out but I wanted to confirm the rules applied. She said yes, and we left it there.” Mum looked at Dad then Daffy. “Remember when the queen used to say you were like the daughter she never had? She was extremely fond of you.”

  “Maybe that’s it,” Dad said. “You reminded her she had a daughter.”

  “Somehow the blue gown is involved,” Daffy said. “The queen was very angry when she saw me in it.”

  “So why’d she sack you for the chair?” Ella said.

  “It was my job to protect it.”

  “But the prince broke it.”

  “My gut?” Dad always came round with the calm, wise point of view. Which Daffy desperately needed now. “I think she’s been afraid for eighteen years you’d spill the beans. If you’re out of sight, you’re out of mind. Then she arrives at Hadsby to see you all cozy with her baby prince.

  “Partially right, Seamus,” Mum said. “Though I’m quite sure any other curator would’ve been sacked over that chair as well. Prince or not. Daff, I can speak to the queen if you like, ask her to reinstate you, but—”

  “Would you do it for any other curator?” Mum shook her head. “I didn’t think so. Believe it or not, working at the Royal Trust is not my dream. I’m looking into corporation positions. I might even accept a position abroad.” She made a face at Ella. “In America.”

  “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “Watch me.” Daffy’s bold declaration made her sit a bit taller. Raise her chin.

  That started a rousing conversation about jobs and careers, higher education and families, but in the end, the news of the queen and her daughter was too much to leave behind.

  “I feel like Leslie Ann is holding the whole country captive. Weird to think how one person can change a nation.” Daffy glanced at her watch and slid out from the bench. She was tired. Ready to end this day. Reaching for her coat, she ached for a long soak in her tub, a short glass of wine, and an early night in bed. “Thanks for the cake and coffee, Mum.”

  “Are you leaving? You just got here.” Mum stood to kiss her cheek. “We were going to watch a movie.”

  “I’ll knock off before the opening credits.” She kissed Dad’s cheek, then Ella’s. “Oh, I forgot. Dad, I’m painting my bedroom tomorrow. What kind of paint should I buy?”

  “Got just the thing.” He wrote down a few top brands, along with the best brush and roller. “Be sure to get a drop cloth.” He peered into her eyes. “You okay, love?”

  “I will be.” She held up his note. “Thanks for this.”

  “Call if you need anything.” But he wasn’t talking about painting, was he?

  “Seamus, drive her.” Mum nudged him forward.

  “No, I’ll take the bus. From my stop it’s a nice safe walk to my place.” She mustered a smile from the door. “Don’t worry, okay?”

  “Daff, I am truly sorry.” Ella’s eyes brimmed with tears. “I feel like I’ve ruined your life.”

  “No, you didn’t.” Daffy embraced her sister. “I love you and forgive you.”

  “I promise not to give away any more of your diaries.”

  “Well, that would be lovely if I had any more diaries.” Daffy kissed her sister and parents good night and headed for the door. “Thanks for the pudding, Mum.”

  Tomorrow she’d start over. Reboot into her new life. Run to the paint store for the supplies Dad jotted down. Spend the day painting, windows opened, blasting an oldies station so loud the neighbors would bang on the walls. The spring air would clear away paint fumes, along with any memories and any lingering scent, real or imagined, of Prince Gus.

  Monday, she’d touch base with the businesses where she’d submitted her résumé and set up profiles on a few more online employment sites.

  The world was her job pool. She’d go wherever, whenever. Make a fresh, exciting new start. And move far, far away from the coming tsunami. The queen’s secret baby was sure to be the story of the year if not the decade.

  Proud of yourself, Leslie Ann?

  Poor Prince John and Lady Holland would be overshadowed by the stories to come. The constant chatter and musings on telly talk shows around the world. Wedding? What wedding? And what of Scottie and Trent?

  What an incredible choice the queen had to face. Even in the hip ’80s, the Crown Princess was not to have a child out of wedlock.

  So, see, everyone had burdens to bear. Some more weighty and public than others, but heartbreak crossed all social and economic barriers.

  Disembarking the bus, Daffy started toward her flat, but the lights of Pub Clemency beckoned. Cutting across the street and through a fragrant stream of night-blooming jasmine, she entered the warm atmosphere with its laughter and clinking glasses, music and wood smoke.

  She smiled at the waitress as she made her way to her usual table. She didn’t anticipate it being empty on a Saturday night but—

  She stopped. Indeed, it was not empty. Thomas and Blinky canoodled while sitting with a couple she didn’t know.

  Turn around before they see you. She wasn’t ready for this scene.

  “Daffy, over here. Join us.” Did Blinky have no sense of propriety? Really? Was she so unaware as to call Daffy over?

  Spinning round for the door, Daffy left the pub and hurried home, her thoughts numb and cold. When she arrived at her building, she noticed the twinkle lights in the courtyard.

  Crossing the lobby, she stepped into the fragrant garden and chose a bench under a cluster of trees. Jazz music floated from the open window of a ground floor apartment. With an exhale, she closed her eyes and listened, releasing her anxious thoug
hts on the rising vibe of the music, and on every craggy, dissonant note.

  * * *

  Gus

  “Daffy, open up. I know you’re in there.” Another insistent round of pounding. “Please. I went by your parents’. They said you’d gone home.”

  A door creaked open behind him and a man with weekend scruff on his cheeks peered out. He looked to be a member of Clemency Street high finance.

  “Your Royal Highness.” He gaped, then bobbed a bow. “Are you looking for Ms. Caron?”

  “Have you seen her?”

  He turned aside. “Darling, do you know if Ms. Caron is home?” Then to Gus, “She’s been out of town lately.”

  “Don’t reveal her habits to a stranger.” The wife, another soul with a weekend look, but who bore the distinct air of the educated and careered—lawyer, perhaps—peered into the hallway. “Your Royal Highness.” When she curtsied, she fell against her husband. “She’s out. I saw her in the elevator a few hours ago.”

  “Did she say where she was going?” He glanced at his watch. It was nearly nine. Where would she be this time at night? “A friend’s? Her sister’s? Pub Clemency?”

  “No, I’m sorry.”

  “If you see her, please tell her to ring me.” This exchange would be on social media the moment he rode down in the elevator to the lobby, but good. He wanted Daffy to know he was coming for her.

  “We will.” The wife moved in front of her husband. “Are you two an item? Is she really the lass in the photos?”

  “As a matter of fact, I’m in love with her.” He walked backward, arms wide.

  Go ahead. Share that with whom you will.

  Next he tried Pub Clemency—which was jammed to the walls and rafters. The air was thick with sights, sounds, music, and the scent of the roaring fire. But no Daffy.

  “Your Royal Highness.” The owner came around the bar. You know, Gus actually preferred “Yer Maj” and “Yer Royalness.” “How can I help? Your usual table?”

  “I’m looking for someone. Gorgeous woman with auburn hair, about yea high.” He raised his hand next to his neck. “Stunning blue eyes, the kind you can fall into and get lost. Oval face. Seen her?”

  “About a dozen of them tonight. Are you looking for one in particular?”

  “Daffy Caron. She comes in on Friday night—”

  “With her mates. Leslie Ann Parker is one. Now she’s a dish. Haven’t seen Daffy in a while. Gypsie?” He stopped the passing waitress. “Have you seen Daffy? The lass who sits in on Friday nights with Ms. Parker, the presenter.”

  “She was just here. Came in, looked back thataway, and left.”

  Gus looked where the server pointed. Thomas was there. With Blinky and another couple. That explained why she didn’t camp out for a spell.

  He thanked the owner and pulled out his phone. Daffy, answer, please. The call went to her voice mail, as all his others had.

  * * *

  Daffy

  “Thanks for this.” She shook her pillow into a fresh cotton case. “I was dreading going up to my place.”

  “You’re lucky I heard the music from the courtyard or I’d never have found you.”

  Daffy dropped down on the thin mattress of her sister’s foldout couch. “There’s a metaphor in there somewhere.”

  In the middle of her jazz music therapy, Ella interrupted, joining Daffy on the bench, announcing the family was helping her paint tomorrow.

  “And we’ll watch Leslie Ann’s telly special together.”

  “Leave me out.”

  “Daffy, you can’t bury your head about this. You need to make sure she’s telling the truth. Not adding to it, giving you more credit than you deserve, if you know what I mean.”

  Then her little sister dragged Daffy to her place for a sisters’ slumber party. Which was perfect because Daffy needed to be sure she’d forgiven her sister. And Ella needed the same assurance.

  Ella laughed and curled up next to her. “Mum’s going to bake bread and puffs while you, Dad and I paint. She thinks she’s perfected the recipe this time.”

  “That’s what she said the last time. Goodyear Tires called, wanted to know how she invented a new kind of rubber.”

  Ella flopped back with a laugh. “Didn’t Nana break a tooth?”

  “Yes, and she was so angry.” Daffy pressed her hand against the pinching sensation in her abdomen. “Ella, I can’t watch the show. Just imagining it—thinking about what Leslie Ann will say—it makes my heart pound so hard. The poor queen—”

  “I wish the queen understood what a gem you are, Daff.” Ella linked her arm through Daffy’s. “If it’s too much, you and I will go down to the courtyard and listen to the jazz music.”

  She smiled and wiped away a tear. “You know the worst part? I really love Gus. We’d found each other. I would never hurt him. Never humiliate him. Yet here I am, the lynch-pin to a story that will hurt his mother. Humiliate the whole Family.”

  Ella motioned to Daffy’s bag. “Why don’t you see if he’s called? Even better, call him.”

  Daffy raised her hands. “Can’t. No phone. Remember?”

  “Then use mine.” Ella jumped from the sofa bed and snapped her phone off the charger. “I have his number.”

  “How’d you get his number?”

  Ella extended the phone. “He called me, remember?”

  The pinch in Daffy’s belly sharpened. “What can I say? What can he say?” She heard the words in his bass voice. “Then you should probably go.”

  “I’ll call him tomorrow.” She tossed the phone back to Ella.

  “Fine. Then I’ll call him.”

  “Ella, no, don’t.” Daffy launched from the bed and tackled her sister to the floor with a thud. “Give me that phone.”

  Ella waved her hand up, down, back, forth, until Daffy caught her arm and yanked the phone away. “This is my life, my relationship. Let me handle this my way.”

  Sitting up, Ella brushed her hair out of her face. “You never go to the gym. How are you so strong?”

  “How do you know I never go to the gym?”

  “Do you?”

  “No.”

  Ella jumped up, tugging her pajama bottoms into place. “I’m not letting you give up on him.”

  “It’s not your choice. Or mine. He won’t choose me over his family.” Daffy crawled back to her pillow. “You should’ve seen Prince John’s face, Ella. Like someone smacked him with a cricket bat.”

  “But, Daffy,” Ella said, sliding onto the bed next to her sister. “You love Gus and he loves you.”

  “Oh, Ella, what am I going to do?” She pressed her hands to her face. “I love him so much it hurts.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Gus

  Maybe it was stupid. Even a bit over the top, but he returned to Daffy’s flat one more time after Pub Clemency. He knocked softly. No need to disturb finance guy and lawyer girl across the hall.

  Taking out his phone, he scrolled past the missed calls and messages from his new and even more frustrated protection officer, Ollie, and rang Daffy again.

  He made a face, lowering the device as he heard a chime from beyond the door. Perfect. She was either inside, refusing to answer, or she’d left her phone behind.

  Gus slipped down the wall to take a seat on the floor. Head back, eyes closed, he’d wait. She had to come home sooner or later. Or go out.

  The hard floor reminded him he had a lovely apartment a few miles away at Perrigwynn, but he’d remain camped, not willing to miss her coming or going.

  For the first time in his life, he wished he had social media accounts. He had a secret Instagram for posting pictures he took of the beach. And Adler. He followed a few uni friends, but no one knew he was the man behind the @name.

  If he were active on other accounts, he might know where she went. He’d discover her friend circle. He could stalk her.

  Ella. Of course. When he popped by Daffy’s folks’ place, they said she and Ella had recently departed
. Maybe they were together.

  He searched his recent calls only to remember he’d called Ella from his Hadsby office. How could he be so last century?

  All right, back to Plan A. Shifting his position, he made a bed of the wall and floor. He’d slept on worse during his stint in the Army. And Daffy was more than worth a hard night’s sleep.

  Because when she finally came home or stepped out her door, he’d be here, waiting, heart in his hand.

  * * *

  Daffy

  After breakfast, Daffy and Ella spent a bob or two at the paint store, loaded down Ella’s tiny sports car, and headed to Daff’s place.

  “Thanks for last night. I actually slept well.” Daffy balanced her share of the supplies in her arms as they rode the elevator up to the fifth floor. “Now I’m ready to update and refresh.” Today was a new day. A good day. The first day of her rebooted life. “Do you like the gray paint we chose?”

  “It’ll look smashing with a white trim. Let’s do my place next.”

  Arriving on Daffy’s floor, the sisters started down the hall and around the corner. Mum texted about then and Ella paused to answer.

  “Dad and Mum are on their way,” she said, adjusting the weight of her bags. “Mum had to get a special flour for the puffs.”

  But Daffy was focused on the lump of man outside her door.

  “Gus?”

  He sat forward, eyes opened. “Oh, hello.” He pushed to his feet. “I knew you had to come home or go out sometime.”

  “What…why…what are you doing?”

  “Waiting for you.” He waved to Ella. “Hello.”

  “Your Royal Highness.”

  The Lasslos from across the hall peered out. “He was out here all night, Daffy.” Tessa wore a slinky robe that revealed too much of her store-bought assets. “I offered to let him sleep in our guest room, but he refused. Wanted to wait for you.”

  “Can we continue this discussion inside your apartment?” Gus lowered his voice and nodded to her door. “Thank you again, Tessa and Will, for the sandwich and milk. I do appreciate it.”