To Love A Prince (True Blue Royal Book 1)

by Rachel Hauck

  “It’s true then? You have a sister?”

  “We do. Mum’s still sorting things. We’ll see what the coming days bring. She’s not even sure the lass knows. Her father has not reached out.”

  “Gus—” Coral hesitated for a moment—“can I tell you what happened? With me? With us?”

  “It’s time. I need to hear it. Please, don’t hold back. I’m not afraid of what you have to say. I’ve learned the last two years that hiding from the truth only makes things worse.”

  She exhaled and began. “Do you remember talking about our wedding vows? How we were pledging before God to love and serve Him, to represent Him to the people. Every vow we made was in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Three entities I knew nothing about. How could I possibly vow to them?”

  “Funny, I hadn’t until we met in the foyer. I recall now we first talked about it here, at Hadsby, on a ski weekend. Didn’t we agree it was nothing more than a formality? An old tradition?”

  “We didn’t actually agree. You said it was nothing more than tradition and dismissed me in the same breath. I wasn’t settled on the issue at all. I started reading and researching the meaning and purpose of the vows and our role as royal Blues, leaders in the Church, and what exactly all that meant. Lauchtenland has a steep Christian heritage, Gus, a remarkable history of charitable and missionary work. Next thing I knew, I was up all hours reading the Bible. If I was to vow my life and service to you and God, as well as Lauchtenland, then I wanted to know Him. The more I read, the more enthralled I became with a man named Jesus, who died for me. As the wedding neared, I began wondering if we were on the same path. I tried again to talk to you. But—”

  “I wasn’t interested.”

  “No. Then you said the one thing that terrified me. You said you were your own master and there was no higher authority than yourself. You felt like a…a rogue ship, alone on a tempest sea. I couldn’t get it out of my mind, my heart. I wanted us to have a God to trust, plead with for help, to act as a guide, even a judge between us if we argued.”

  “You said all of that? Out loud?” He’d blocked out those specifics.

  “I did, at least I tried, probably not as plainly.” Coral gripped her husband’s hand. “I talked about our family heritages, how we both had money, fame, status, and advantages that would be fabulous for children, but what about their spiritual health? Our spiritual health?”

  “You got nowhere with me.”

  She nodded, her eyes clouding. “That’s when the fear of God gripped me. This sort of reverent awe. I knew I couldn’t live without Him as my friend and judge. I wanted a relationship with Jesus. My love for Him overtook me. I wanted to run after Him with a man who would love Him too. The fear of God was so powerful I feared nothing else, even running out on a global wedding.”

  Gus stilled. “Are you saying God told you to leave me?”

  “No, not at all. At least not the way I did. But we needed to see we were not on the same page. Maybe some could make religious differences work, but I was so gripped I knew I was not one of them. Being both zealous and immature was not a good recipe. I delayed breaking off with you because I wasn’t totally sure. I kept telling myself everything would work out. That I just had cold feet. My mother was sure I’d be fine once I started down the aisle.”

  “I remember you wanted us to read the Bible and pray together. Which I rejected.”

  The more Coral explained what had happened—the reason she hadn’t married him—the more tenderness grew inside of him. He’d never given her a chance. He was arrogant, full of himself, and king of the world with Coral Winthrop by his side. He didn’t need God.

  “When did you know you’d not marry me?”

  “Probably for a month, but the night before brought everything into focus. I was up all night battling with myself, with God, reading my Bible, and praying. Though one can never truly hear God from a place of anxiety. I mean, we had a wedding planned with fifteen hundred guests from around the world.”

  Beside her, Chuck exhaled. “We had two hundred guests and I nearly sweat through my tux.”

  “Caterers and wedding planners worked for months on two receptions. We’d paid for flowers and gifts. Our honeymoon was booked. Television crews and the media had been on-site for days. Above all, I loved you and your family.”

  Coral stood, hands clasped at her waist, her expression somber. “I woke up that morning in such a state. I had no peace no matter how much self-talk and pumping up I did. I went for a run at six. Gus, I don’t run. I ate breakfast. I took a long bubble bath. I stared at my gown. Oh, I loved that gown. But peace just would not come. I wasn’t excited. I dreaded every moment of getting ready. I put my dress on, and instead of feeling like the princess I was about to become, I felt like a prisoner. Finally, I cleared the room. No one stayed, not even my mom. And I prayed in earnest. ‘Jesus, I’m all Yours.’” Her lips twisted. “That’s when the peace came and I knew I would not walk down Clouver Abbey’s aisle. I also knew He would take care of you. I truly did.

  “I should’ve come to your room and told you. But I was too afraid. I’ll live with my foolish decision forever. I humiliated you and the House of Blue. In fact, when Lady Holland called to invite us to the wedding, I was sure she was joking.”

  “Mum forgave you quicker than I.”

  “But now you have and I’m so grateful.” Coral knelt beside him, hand on his arm, and peered into his face. “You’ve broken my last chain.”

  “Do you forgive me? For not listening? For not caring enough to hear your heart? For not coming after you? For not allowing you to explain?”

  “A hundred times over.” Coral kissed his hand, humbling him once again.

  “In the sum of all things, you ran because you fell in love with God?”

  “You know, you have something in common with Him.” Coral returned to her seat by her husband.

  “With God?” Gus shook his head. “I can’t imagine.”

  “He’s a prince. The Prince of Peace. Emmanuel, God with us.”

  “Emmanuel?”

  “Yes, God with us.”

  Gus stood with an explosion of realization. Emmanuel? Was it possible… No. How? Why? Oh, now he had so many questions.

  Then the old carpenter’s fiery eyes flashed before him and HRH Prince Augustus laughed. The joke was on him, wasn’t it? God bowed low to spend time with him. All those workshop sessions he’d been in the company of the Lord.

  Emmanuel, God with us.

  “The Grand Dining Hall of Hadsby Castle was resplendent with the Royal Blue china on display and a dinner of London broil, garlic potatoes, asparagus, and a chocolate cake pudding. Wine from The Haskells, port, and champagne were served along with platters of locally sourced cheese and fruit.”

  –What’s on the Table Blog

  “We’re told the guests are out riding today. Lady Holland is an avid equestrian. The queen and king consort drove a cart down to the mews to watch the guests ride out on a cold but sunny morning.

  “Spectators report Lady Holland raced off with Prince John. Watchers were surprised to see Coral Winthrop Mays, the American heiress who left Prince Gus at the altar, on a white mount along with her new husband, an American cowboy sort of chap, riding alongside, gripping the reins with white knuckles, his horse on a steady course for a stand of trees.”

  –Leslie Ann Parker, the Morning Show

  “I was treated to a tour of the wedding gowns with Royal Trust curator, Glasgow Towns. They were stunning and so well designed. I’m told the staging was orchestrated by Daffodil Caron, whom I believe was responsible for the shot-heard-round-the-world. Her diary exposed Queen Catherine II’s secret child. The Unknown Bride gown was a stunning silver organza with lace, and we’re told it will be donated to the local foster foundation for a lass aging out of the system. It was thrilling to see the Princess Louisa. We’ve heard so much about it. But let’s begin at the beginning, the first gown to be preserved…”


  –Sydney Fritz, News at Six, LTV-1

  “That’s right, Farley, we’re on-site at Hadsby, about to enter the Queen’s Library to see the King Titus. We’ll be back live in sixty seconds, after these words.”

  –Perry Copperfield, Cable News PF

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Daffy

  Friday afternoon, Daffy met Mum for lunch, then went shoe shopping. Mum went ga-ga over a pair of Christian Louboutin’s and insisted on buying them.

  “Cinderella would’ve worn these.”

  After which Daffy kissed her goodbye and ran all over the Clemency District hunting for one special item before returning to her flat to pack.

  Saturday morning, Dad, Mum and Ella arrived to see her off and inspect her suitcase.

  “Do you have everything?” Mum snooped through Daffy’s case, rearranged her socks and underwear, then moved to the closet to see if there was one more item she might need or want.

  “Who’s going to do your hair?” Ella inspected two pairs of shoes. A pair of Wellies and a pair of boots. “You should take these. You never know.”

  “I have Wellies and trainers.” Daffy tossed the shoes on the floor of the closet. “I’m doing my own hair. Mum, that jacket was hideous when I bought it. I meant to take it back but never got round to it.” Daffy closed her suitcase, putting the end to her family’s attempt to overpack. “I’ve got everything I need. My gown. My Louboutins. Clothes for Sunday. I’ll be back Monday evening.”

  She had an interview with an art gallery Tuesday morning, another on Wednesday afternoon with an old Port Fressa family firm—Trumpeters, makers of fine furniture. They were very interested in her corporate curating ideas.

  Dad stepped in from the living room. “Daff, love, we should get going in case there’s traffic.”

  He’d insisted on driving her up to Dalholm in Mum’s Range Rover so the dress could lie flat. The queen texted to come round to the delivery entrance and sneak up to the servants’ quarters on the third floor. She had the old butler’s room prepped for her.

  “He’ll never expect you to be there. Besides, all the suites are booked. Even Royal Guest One. Sorry, love.”

  Daffy didn’t mind. She preferred those old spaces. In the 1950s, the family modernized and added bathrooms to each room of the servants’ quarters. She’d be perfectly comfortable.

  Mum handed Dad Daffy’s suitcase, while Ella carried the gown, carefully cleaned by an expert at the Royal Trust, Alice.

  “Well, have fun.” Mum squeezed Daffy against her bosom with a weepy sigh. “I’m so proud of you.”

  “Me too, sis.” Ella hugged her next. “If you meet any eligible bachelors, get their number for me.”

  “All right, she’s just going up to Dalholm for a ball, let’s not break out the waterworks.” Dad could always be counted on for leveling things off.

  “Dalholm.” Mom whispered the word. “What a perfect place to say, ‘I love you.’”

  “Didn’t you fall in love with Thomas in Dalholm, Daffy?” Ella, really, this was not the time.

  “Morwena,” Dad said. “I tell you that I love you and you say to hush.”

  “Hush and drive safe. You’ve plenty of time.” Mum opened the door and Ella passed Daffy the garment bag. “Are you just going to hide out when you get there?”

  “Until five, when Gus goes out to the eastern portico for a family photograph.”

  “Then what?” Ella and Mum walked with Dad and Daffy to the elevator.

  “I run toward him, unless it’s raining, which it shouldn’t, and he scoops me in his arms, kisses me, and I swoon.”

  “Crikey, that sounds like a line from My Life with the Prince.”

  Precisely. Leslie Ann returned the diary by messenger along with a note. I’m sorry for hurting you. I don’t want our friendship to end.

  After a day, Daffy responded with a text. Let’s talk next week.

  After her conversation with the queen, she didn’t see any profit in holding a grudge. But she would let Leslie Ann know how she hurt everyone for her own gain and broke her promise to leave Daffy out of her future stories.

  Gus called last night and they’d talked for three hours. One hour was his recap of his conversation with Coral and Chuck, how healing and freeing it was, and how he wished he’d done it long ago.

  “Also, we need to talk about Emmanuel.”

  “I know. We do.”

  The other two hours Gus needled, pleaded, and begged her to come up to the ball. But she claimed plans she could not get out of without letting a lot of people down. But oh it was torture hearing the disappointment in his voice. She almost broke and told him twice. But the queen had been insistent so once again, she kept a secret.

  “Not a word. He’ll survive. Next time he’ll listen to you when you tell him not to sit in a chair.”

  “Thanks for driving me, Dad.” Daffy buckled up in the passenger’s seat.

  “My pleasure, love. I’ll be walking you down the aisle to this chappie one day. Might as well drive you up to get the ball rolling.” He laughed. “Get it? I said, ‘Get the ball rolling.’”

  “You’re a regular riot, Dad.” Daffy touched his arm as he pressed the ignition button. “Do you like him? Prince Gus? Forget the fact that he’s a prince. But for your daughter?”

  “I don’t know him all that well, but I’ve watched him handle himself through the Prince Pudgy years, to the fame of his smile, through the shame of being left at the altar, and I’d say he’s a good man. Upstanding lad. And if he’s the reason for that light in your eyes, then he has my vote.”

  “Me too.” She held her daddy’s hand until they hit North One highway toward Dalholm, toward her prince and the rest of her life.

  * * *

  Gus

  Just do the math.

  If he left now, he’d be in Port Fressa by one o’clock. Okay, in the Aston Martin with light traffic, he’d be there by noon.

  Give two hours to talk Daffy into coming, another hour to get her things together—he hoped she had a ball gown—and head back to Hadsby by three.

  Two hours back Aston Martin time, he’d be on the portico for Mum’s photo shoot no later than five-fifteen. Perhaps, five-thirty.

  Gus glanced at his watch. If he was going to do this, he needed to leave now. Of course, he could put on his tuxedo to save time. But, no, it would be wrinkled by the time of the ball.

  He’d just have to shorten his convincing time to one hour. And thirty minutes to pack. If she didn’t have a gown, she could borrow from Coral. Fifty bucks she brought more than one. And to his eye, his ex and his true love were about the same size.

  Gus mimed holding Coral, then Daffy. Yeah, sure they were the same size. Give or take.

  Down the back steps to the garage, he grabbed the motor keys, checked the petrol level, and with one final consideration, opened the bay door and fired down the drive.

  No one would miss him this afternoon. Just about everyone went riding or hiking. Several were in their suites reading or resting for the big night.

  John didn’t want to risk injury, so the rugby match was postponed until tomorrow. Prince Stephen cheered the delay, as he wanted more time to woo Chuck Mays over to his team. Poor slob, he didn’t stand a chance. Gus had Chuck locked in.

  Shifting into high gear, he turned up the radio and flew low down North One through the villages and hamlets to win the heart and presence of his true love.

  * * *

  Daffy

  One would think she was aged or infirm—or both—the way Dad drove up North One, slower than molasses. Apologizing for every pothole. It took forever to get here.

  But now that she was settled in her cozy room on the third floor, she was grateful for their time together and that she only had to kill three hours instead of four, when she’d surprise Gus on the portico.

  She turned off her phone in case he called. Her silence would up the tension and increase the element of surprise. Also, in the off chance he cruised by
the servants’ quarters, she didn’t want her phone giving her away.

  Restless, she paced the generous space, gazing out the window, three stories from the ground. She tried to come up with a hairstyle, but she wasn’t good at twists and braids, so she decided to wear it down, let her curls do the talking.

  But what if the women were wearing updos? Did it matter? Would she look out of step? Daffy fell back on the single bed’s thick mattress.

  “Emmanuel, help.”

  She’d been inspired by her conversation with the queen and retrieved her old confirmation Bible from the bottom of her bookcase, intending to read a few chapters before bed. She also looked up the man named Emmanuel, God with us. Why didn’t the queen just tell her flat out? Emmanuel was Jesus, the Christ.

  If God was with her, she wanted to know Him. She’d listened intently when Gus talked of God being the impetus for Coral running. Then he brought up Emmanuel, and she knew they’d begun the same journey.

  Still on the mattress, she drifted away, the emotional rollercoaster of the week taking its toll. The next sound she heard was someone knocking.

  “Daffy? I’m here to help you get ready.”

  “What?” She unlocked the door to see a slight, pretty woman on the other side. “I’m Coral Winthrop’s stylist, Choko. She asked me to help you get ready.”

  “Coral Winthrop? How does she know I exist?”

  “The queen told her who you were and why you’re here. May I come in?” She carried a large black case full of beautification magic. “I love your hair. I’m envisioning a fab updo. What do you think?”

  “Yeah, if you think you can tame this mess.”

  “Oh, I’ve tamed far worse.” She pointed to a chair. “Let’s do your makeup first, then hair. Last, we’ll slip on the dress. Is that the one you’re wearing? Gorgeous.”