A Royal Romance

by Jenny Frame

  Greta rolled her eyes. “That doesn’t alter the fact that she is gorgeous. Imagine marrying her, and becoming the Queen Consort. The first gay couple to rule the country. It would be a fairy tale.”

  Yes, whoever married Georgie would be a lucky woman.

  “They say that the Belgian princess is keen on being the lucky woman,” Holly added.

  Bea felt her stomach clench uncomfortably. She’d had just about enough of the Queen for one day. “Look, could we change the subject? I’m out here to forget about work and spend time with my friends.”

  Her friends looked at her with shock. She was not normally prone to bursts of anger, and she immediately felt guilty.

  “Listen, I’m sorry. I’m just really tired, and it’s been a really stressful week. I’ll go and get another round in, okay? Same again?”

  Lali gave her hand a squeeze. “Do you want any help?”

  She gave her friend a smile. “I’ll be fine. Be back in a sec.”

  *

  Bea leaned on the bar, waiting her turn to be served. At nine o’clock in the evening, the bar was busy but not yet overflowing with the clubbers who would pour in later for drinks, before heading to the club next door.

  Bea was warring with herself. She had wanted a break from thinking about the Queen for one night, as her thoughts seemed to be filled with her recently. At first it was annoyance and anger, and now something else, and it was the something else that made her uneasy.

  She couldn’t get the image of the Queen from this morning out of her head. What she had seen then was not the Queen, but Georgie. Georgie, although still strong and capable like the Queen, was underneath it all emotionally vulnerable and, Bea sensed, very lonely, and she was so drawn to that.

  “What can I get you, sweetheart?” the bar woman asked.

  She shook herself from her thoughts quickly and gave her order. While she was waiting she glanced up at the large projected screen on the bar wall. The screen was showing lots of different channels at once. Sports, news, music channels, popular reality shows. The news channel caught Bea’s eye. It showed long rooms at Buckingham Palace, and lined down each side were ladies and gentlemen in evening dress. The banner along the bottom of the screen read: Her Majesty Queen Georgina hosts a diplomatic reception for foreign ambassadors. Although there was no sound, Bea could still feel the majesty of the event. She watched as the royal trumpeters in their gold livery, with GR emblazoned on the front, began playing the royal fanfare, huge doors were opened, and the Queen walked in, leading her extended family behind her in order of precedence. Her brother, Theo, the Queen Mother, and the Dowager Queen behind her. She didn’t recognize the other members of the family.

  Captain Cameron was right. With all that they’d done today, George was still working tonight. Do you ever get to do what you want, Georgie?

  Bea’s eyes were transfixed on the Queen, who was wearing white tie, with a blue sash and diamond encrusted badge across her chest. Greta was right—she was gorgeous.

  The camera panned in on the Queen’s face, and she gave a dazzling smile to the ambassador she was introduced to. Bea forced herself to look away when she felt that ever more familiar tingle.

  “Here you go, sweetheart.” The bar woman plonked down her tray of drinks.

  Bea swiped her mobile phone to pay.

  “Thanks, luv.”

  Before heading back to the girls, she took a sip of her drink. As she brought the glass to her lips, she noticed the crown stamped on the glass. Good God, I can’t get away from her. These symbols had always been there, but she had taken them for granted, only now really seeing just how much the monarch impacted on British life.

  Bea was just about to lift the tray when she felt a hand on her arm.

  “All right, darlin’?”

  She sighed inwardly. She often saw her ex, Ronnie Lassiter, at Mickey D’s, usually with women very much younger than herself. She’d been a fresher when she’d met Ronnie at university, and Ronnie in her third year. She had been dazzled by the extremely cool and good-looking woman. Ronnie was meant to be studying law but spent most of her time playing for the university rugby team and drinking too much with them in the bar. Bea, on the other hand, was very serious about her studies.

  “Ronnie, stop trying to sound like an eighteen-year-old from the inner city. You’re the daughter of a High Court judge who’s lived her whole life in Chelsea.” Ronnie’s need to fit in the younger crowd and pretend she didn’t have every advantage growing up infuriated Bea.

  Her ex-girlfriend held up her hands in a defensive posture. “Okay, okay. You sound like my mother.”

  “I hope not.” Ronnie’s mother had never been impressed with her daughter’s choice of girlfriend. Bea’s working-class background, lack of good breeding, and lack of private education were not deemed acceptable for the daughter of Sir John and Lady Hillary Lassiter. All through her relationship with Ronnie, Lady Hillary made her disapproval abundantly clear.

  “Come on, Bea, I come in peace. I just wondered how you’re doing. I haven’t seen you here in a while.”

  Bea turned and faced her ex-lover. Ronnie was older than her, now into her middle thirties. At first she had found her youthful exuberance exciting, but as she left university and started her working life, Ronnie’s immaturity started to affect their relationship. After a long week at work, Bea would have liked to have a romantic meal together, whereas Ronnie was more interested in going out with her rugby friends, drinking and clubbing.

  “I’ve been busy with work, and the girls and I are normally going home by the time you’re just arriving.”

  Ronnie moved closer to Bea and stroked her hand. “I saw you on TV showing the Queen around. Mother was impressed.”

  Well, I wonder why? she thought cynically. Bea pulled her hand back from Ronnie’s grasp. “Yes, I have a lot on at Timmy’s at the moment. So, how are you Ronnie? Working at all?”

  “Eh? No. Father got me a position at a law firm in the city, but I left it a few weeks ago—a couple of my mates have started a band with me, so I’m going to concentrate on my music.”

  In other words, you got the sack. “And what did your mum and dad think of that?”

  Ronnie looked a little sheepish. “Father wasn’t too pleased, but Mother’s going to fund our recording studio time, so it’s all good.”

  You’re a spoiled brat. Ronnie had opportunities other people could only dream about, and she was just wasting her life. George might have been born in even greater privilege, but at least she recognized it and worked hard, trying to give back what she could to the country.

  “Well, I’ll be off then.” She went to pick up the tray but Ronnie stopped her.

  “Wait.”

  She sighed and said, “What?”

  Ronnie stroked her fingers down the side of Bea’s face. “Listen, why don’t you come to the club with us later? We could have a few drinks, and a dance, maybe go back to mine later. I still miss you. We were so good together.”

  Ronnie had tried to seduce her once or twice since they had split up, but she was certain this attempt was more to do with her newfound royal connections, than wanting her. Everything Ronnie did was driven by ego, and Bea was sure she just wanted to prove she could still have her.

  “No, I don’t think so.” Bea’s attention was drawn to three girls, who looked no more than eighteen or nineteen, who were standing on their seats, drinks in hand, and chanting, “Ronnie! Ronnie!”

  Bea shook her head and said, “Your fan club is waiting for you, Ronnie.”

  She lifted the drinks tray and walked away, and Ronnie shouted after her, “Bea, come on. Give me a chance.”

  She just carried on walking and didn’t look back.

  *

  Bea walked back to the table with the drinks and noticed they were missing Holly. “Here you go, girls. Where’s Holls?”

  Greta pointed over to a dark corner of the bar, where Holly was laughing and flirting with a good looking young man. �
��She managed to find the only straight man in a gay bar as usual.”

  Bea giggled. “She’s unbelievable.”

  “Was Ronnie bothering you?” Lali asked.

  She handed out the drinks. “No, just hoping she would catch me in a weakened moment as usual. I can handle her.”

  They were interrupted by the ringing of Greta’s mobile phone. When she answered, her partner Riley’s face appeared on the screen. “Hello?”

  “Sweetheart, I can’t find Jessica’s cuddle bear, and Jamie won’t go to bed. He says you let him have a chocolate bar before bed.”

  Lali and Bea laughed into their hands, and Greta rolled her eyes in frustration. Every Friday, Greta left her partner written instructions for taking care of their children, and every week without fail, Riley would call with some crisis or another. Sometimes the girls would bet each other how long it would take for Riley to call.

  “Excuse me, would you, girls? I need to go and shout at Riley.”

  As Greta walked away to try and find a quieter corner, they heard her say, “One night a week, Riley, one night, that’s all I get to be out of the house.”

  “Poor Riley,” Bea said to her friend.

  Lali and Bea were alone for the first time all night. “Are you really all right, Bea? You seemed a bit stressed earlier.”

  Bea let out a long breath. “Yes. I’m just a little off balance.”

  “Why? Is it your job?”

  “I suppose. When Danny told me I would be traveling the country with the Queen, I was furious. I mean, you remember what I was like at uni.”

  Lali giggled. “Yes, you used to always be doing things with that group, Free Republic. I remember you all went to that protest outside the palace with placards.”

  Bea took a sip of her drink. “Everything seemed so black and white then. Now I seem to see everything in shades of grey. I can’t help but like her—no one can help but like her, it seems to me. She’s very charismatic, and she cares, genuinely cares, about everyone she meets. I’ve seen Georgie go out of her way to help people, when others wouldn’t have bothered.” And I’ve seen the Georgie underneath the mask of Queenship. The one she wants no one to see. That thought was something that she would never share with anyone, and would gladly protect.

  “Is it a bad thing that the Queen makes you realize that maybe she is doing a good job? I mean let’s face it, anti-monarchist and republican feeling has never been lower. The country loved her father and now loves his daughter even more, so it’s not likely that they are going anywhere. Do you remember our politics lecturer at uni?”

  “How could I forget? He didn’t like me.”

  “Is it surprising? You argued your way through the whole topic of the British constitution.”

  With a small smile Bea said, “Perhaps I did. He was an arrogant old fool, though.”

  “Maybe, but I always remember he said: Monarchy is dependent on the people. It’s in the people’s hands whether or not it endures. And since every gay woman I know, and some of the straight ones too, are in lust or love with her, and the rest of the country thinks she is a jolly good sort, I don’t see us becoming a republic with a president anytime soon. So why don’t you give yourself permission to like her. Do you think Abby would have liked her?”

  Bea gave a soft smile thinking of her sister. “I know she would have. Abby loved horses. I know a lot of young girls do, but we didn’t have access to the country being complete townies. When we were young, Dad used to take us to a city farm, and Abby fell in love with the horses. She collected pictures and horse magazines. Georgie was quite often featured in the magazines, taking part in gymkhanas and country horse events, and I remember she always said what a dream it would be to meet the princess. I think the freedom of the country appealed to her, and the feeling that you could go anywhere in those wide open country spaces. Freedom.”

  When she realized she wouldn’t see the Queen for almost a week, she felt something she wasn’t expecting—a longing ache to be near her.

  Why do I miss you Georgie?

  *

  Princess Eleanor crawled up the body of her panting partner and kissed him thoroughly.

  “My dear Princess, you are truly a wicked woman.”

  Eleanor looked at Julian, Viscount Anglesey, with a self-satisfied smirk. When Princess Eleanor had come to Britain with the sole purpose of hunting down Queen Georgina and becoming Queen Consort, Julian had seen the perfect opportunity to use her for his own ends.

  “You do seem to have a talent for inspiring my wickedness.” Eleanor rolled off him and reached for her champagne.

  Julian sat up and poured some more champagne for himself. “I must say your lesbianism is going very well.”

  They both laughed. “Oh, don’t worry, My Lord Anglesey. For our sovereign Queen Georgina, I will be the perfect lesbian.”

  Julian reached out for one of his cigars, and lit it; the smoke billowed in clouds from his mouth.

  “You know it is illegal to smoke, Julian,” Eleanor joked.

  “Oh, Princess. You sound like my wife. I can do what I like. I am a Buckingham and the son of the Princess Royal, but we’ll keep the smoking between ourselves shall we?”

  Viscount Anglesey had met Eleanor on occasion as they grew up, but they hadn’t spent a lot of time with each other. Given her reputation, he was very surprised when she had very publicly come out of the closet.

  Julian blew out a smoke ring and said, “Now, I will get you invited to the right places and close to my cousin, the rest is up to you. Do you think you can do it?”

  Eleanor ran a long fingernail down the center of Julian’s chest. “What do you think?”

  “I think you will eat her alive, my dear. My cousin is a strong individual of mind and body, but with women she is a novice. If you do what you do best, she will be eating out of your hand.”

  Eleanor kissed Julian’s chest and circled his nipple with her tongue. “Hmm…and I will be the Queen Consort of Great Britain, the Commonwealth, and two billion people worldwide, not to mention one of the wealthiest people on earth.”

  “Princess, you have done your homework. Some people might think you are only interested in power.”

  The princess bit Julian’s nipple, making him jump. “Who would not want to be the Queen Consort of all that? My older brother the king and my sister think they outshine me at home in Belgium, but once I get my claws into Georgina, everyone in the world will notice me.”

  Julian stubbed out his cigar and rolled Eleanor underneath him. “Just remember the price you pay, Princess. You use your persuasive powers and I get whatever I want, when I want it.”

  Eleanor placed a finger on his lips. “You will get anything you wish. I promise.”

  Julian grabbed hold of Eleanor’s hair, a little too hard. “I better, Princess, and just in case you forget who got you into my bitch of a cousin’s bed, I have recorded our little discussion.” He pointed to the tablet on a desk across the room.

  “Very clever, Lord Anglesey. I would hate to have you as an enemy.”

  He released her hair from its tight hold and changed to gentle stroking. “Just remember that Eleanor, when you are on your back servicing my cousin.”

  Princess Eleanor laughed. “You really do hate your cousin, don’t you?”

  Julian’s mood grew dark. He had always resented George’s position in the family and despised having to defer to her. Not only a woman, but a lesbian was now sovereign and head of his family. When Eleanor had come to Britain and he’d discovered her plan, he saw a way to become the power behind the throne.

  “Everyone in my family, especially my mother, brother, and sister, thinks the sun shines out of her arse. I am the only one who sees her for what she is—a pervert who needs to be controlled before she ruins the reputation of my family dynasty—and I am the one to do it.”

  He’d had to bow down to George and her brother all of his life, but his hatred was complete when, after the late King’s death, he had to pay
homage to the new Queen.

  He remembered how humiliated he felt, kissing George’s hand and swearing fealty.

  Filled with disgust, Julian began to take his frustrations out on the body beneath him.

  Chapter Eight

  The Queen’s deputy private secretary, Sebastian Richardson, placed a file onto the desk in front of George. “Finally, Ma’am, if I could just get you to approve the changes to your speech tomorrow.”

  George scanned the document quickly. “Have the foreign office approved the changes you suggested?”

  “Yes, Ma’am. I understand the prime minister was particularly pleased with them,” Sebastian said with obvious pride.

  George was very pleased with the young man’s fresh approach and new ideas. When George had ascended the throne she was very aware of her duty to the late King’s existing staff, in particular the King’s private secretary, Sir Michael Bradbury, who had been a faithful servant to the Buckinghams. She had made no changes but with an eye to the future had recruited Sebastian, a highly thought of young man from the foreign and commonwealth office. He was being groomed for Sir Michael’s role, and George was delighted with his advice and ideas.

  “Thank you, Bastian. Could you call Captain Cameron on your way out? I will have to dress shortly.”

  After he left, George walked over to look out the window of the hotel’s large penthouse suite. Due to the amount of staff and security personnel, the Queen’s entourage had taken up two floors of the hotel building. She had been on a four day state visit to Canada and had now travelled to New York to give a speech to the UN. Tonight the president was hosting a reception for all the visiting heads of states and dignitaries, and tomorrow she would give her speech.

  George looked over the dark city skyline and sighed. The loneliness she had felt since taking the throne seemed to deepen over the time she had been on her overseas trip. I wonder what you are doing this evening, Bea? Having fun, no doubt.