The Anti-Cinderella Conquers the World

by Tawdra Kandle

  “Not that we mind either, of course,” added the Queen. “But you have had a very challenging few months, and we thought it would be good to chat a bit and make sure you’re both all right.”

  Nicky reached for my hand. “Thank you, Granny. I definitely wouldn’t want to repeat these past months, but we’re going to be just fine, I think.”

  “Our two weeks away made a huge difference,” I agreed. “We appreciate that you were flexible about allowing us to miss the holidays.”

  “We understand that you’ve both been through a great deal. And we know how hard it is to be a young couple in this family, with all the pressures and worries.” Her Majesty patted the Duke’s hand. “It’s been a very long time for us, certainly, but we remember.”

  “Without a doubt.” The Duke coughed. “Damned nuisance it was, living in a fishbowl, always at the beck and call of the family . . . all the advisors and courtiers weighing in on every decision in our lives. And we didn’t have the imminent worries you both do, about bombings and threats.”

  “What we learned over all of these many years together was that when we attempted to deal with things on our own, without allowing the other person to help, everything went catawampus. It is quite true that a burden shared is a burden halved.” The Queen and the Duke exchanged a fond look.

  “Quite.” The Duke nodded. “Men are often reluctant to believe that. We tend to think that handling problems on our own shows our strength, and asking for help demonstrates weakness. I’ve learned, particularly in these last years, that it is, in fact, the opposite.”

  “I should’ve listened to your advice more often, Grandpa,” Nicky remarked ruefully. “But when I was first informed of the threats, when Kyra and I were on our honeymoon, I thought I was making the right choice by protecting her. I felt that was my job as her husband. It wasn’t until everything became so complicated and we learned the extent of the danger that I realized I’d painted myself into a corner. I couldn’t come clean to her without explaining everything, and I couldn’t figure out how to do that.”

  “Instead, he got himself almost blown up by a bomb, and he counted on the fact that I’d be so glad he wasn’t dead that I’d have to forgive him for keeping the secret,” I interposed, mock glaring at my husband. “It worked for him this time, but I advise against a repeat performance.”

  The Queen’s lips twitched. “Indeed.” She sat back, regarding us both with contentment in her gaze. “Your grandfather and I wanted you both to know that we want to do whatever we can to make things easier for you. We recognize that you’ve had a bumpy start, through no fault of your own—largely.” She cut her eyes to Nicky. “But if there’s something we can do, any path we can ease, please don’t hesitate to turn to us. I know you young people like to manage things for yourselves, but trust me—there are some times and situations in which having me as your grandmother might actually be a benefit.”

  “Oh, Granny, being your grandson has always been a joy.” Nicky winked at the Queen and then added, in a more serious tone, “Thank you both. We spent a good deal of our time away talking about the future and how we communicate. I think we’re on firmer footing now.”

  “I hope so.” Her Majesty toyed with the edge of her skirt where it lay on the cushion of her chair. “I’ve been updated by our security officers, too, about the status of the investigation into the terror cell sending threats and setting bombs.” Her mouth tightened. “I understand that both of you will have increased security until they’ve managed to apprehend the people behind all of this.”

  “Yes.” Nicky sighed. “Both Simon and Harold will be with Kyra when she’s not at Kensington Palace. We’ll have additional coverage whenever we’re out on engagements.”

  “Or during any private outings, as well,” I reminded him. “And we’re limiting official duties to smaller visits and appearances, no big conferences or meetings until everything has calmed down.”

  “Right.” Nicky sounded grim. “Maintaining a low profile and all that.”

  “It won’t be forever, Nicky.” The Queen was unflappable, and her smile was serene. “This is a short-term situation, and it will be resolved quickly. We’ve had troubles like this before—you weren’t even born yet when we dealt with other conflicts and threats. Time goes on, and everything settles down. Trust the people who know best about protecting us, and have faith that they will root out this group and deal with them.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Nicky might’ve been a favorite grandson, one who could tease and cajole his grandmother on occasion, but he was also canny enough to know when simple obedience was required. “I’ll admit, though, that all of this does make me wonder if I’m causing more trouble than I’m solving problems. Maybe if I’d kept my mouth shut and simply decided to be patron of regattas and horse shows and polo leagues, no one would pay enough attention to threaten us.”

  “Bullshit.” The Duke spit out the word. “Nicholas, you know better than that. Of course, we are not a political entity. We do not take sides, nor do we influence matters of policy. But we are still human beings, passionate people who have the right—no, the responsibility—to speak up when we see wrongdoing. We use our pulpit to champion clear cases of right and wrong, and I’ll tell you, my boy, that the work you’ve done is important and necessary. Will you let the fools whom you’ve frightened with your convictions scare you off now? Will you be that cowardly?”

  I felt Nicky stiffen beside me, his spine becoming ramrod straight. “No, sir, of course not. I believe strongly in the work I’ve done, and I’ll continue to do it. No matter what.”

  The Duke clapped him on the shoulder. “That’s what I expected you to say, boy.” He stood up, wincing a little as he straightened his own back. “Now, isn’t it time for our luncheon drinks?” He grinned. “Let’s have a bit of a nip before the rest of the crowd descends upon us.”

  Nicky rose to his feet, and together the two men wandered to the other end of the room to begin the process of pouring the ‘nip’ the Duke wanted. The Queen exhaled and shook her head.

  “Men come at things in a different direction than we might, Kyra, but Philip is right. You must not be cowed into giving up, no matter how frightening this seems. We—this entire family—is at your back, and we support you.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.” I inclined my head. I never doubted that the Royal Family would stand with us, but it was reassuring to hear the words from the Queen herself.

  “No, Kyra, I believe it is I who should be thanking you.” Her bright blue eyes were steady. “Your love and care of our dear Nicky made all the difference. I believe that he knew you were sitting at his bedside, waiting for him to awaken, and that’s what helped to make him well. You’ve been patient and forgiving and kind. I want you to know that all of this does not go unnoticed.”

  I didn’t take care of Nicky or sit vigil at the hospital because I wanted praise from the Queen, but the sincerity of her appreciation was clear. I was glad to know that apparently, she was going to forget about my disobedience of her orders that day at Edward VII’s Hospital.

  “What else would I do?” I spread my hands. “There is no one else in the world like Nicky. I would do anything for him. He is my world.”

  “I believe you, my dear.” Her Majesty took to her feet, tilting her head as she looked down at me. In spite of her ninety plus years, her gaze didn’t miss anything. “Come, Kyra. Let’s go join the gentlemen and have a small toast to the future. It’s looking quite rosy just now.”

  “YOUR ROYAL HIGHNESSES.” THE MAN in the dark suit who stood at the head of the conference room table gave a bow as Nicky and I entered. “Thank you for coming.”

  “We had a choice?” Nicky muttered into my ear, and I swatted him, hoping the movement was subtle enough to be missed by this room full of protection agents and counter-terrorism investigators.

  “Please, sit down. I’m Commander Pratt.” He motioned with his head toward two empty chairs near his own, and another man—an aide, I
guessed—slid the seats away from the table so that my husband and I could sit next to each other.

  I tried to ignore the awkwardness that surrounded us. This was a meeting about the eco-terrorist group who had tried to kill my husband. We were present in order to share any information we might have and to hear what Scotland Yard intended to do in order to beef up our everyday protection moving forward.

  But few of the men and women sitting around the table with us had ever met Nicky, and I didn’t know any of them. They were all trying not to look at the Prince and his wife, even though most were clearly intrigued.

  “We were just about to launch our report on the investigation into the eco-terrorist cell.” Commander Pratt pressed a button on his open laptop, and suddenly the wall behind him was painted with horrible, frightening images. I realized after a moment that what we were seeing was the carnage in the aftermath of the bombing in November. There were the bodies of the injured, screaming in pain and begging for help. Then there were the bodies that were simply too still.

  I reached blindly to find Nicky’s hand and held it tight. Over those terrible days when he’d been comatose in the hospital, my imagination had run wild, picturing what he might have gone through. But nothing I had conjured up had approached the reality I was seeing now.

  “Is there a reason we have to see this slide?” Nicky’s question was harsh, almost growled. “You have to have known that it would be upsetting to my wife.”

  “Apologies, sir.” The man sounded anything but sorry. “We were hoping that perhaps this might be a way to jog your memory about that evening.”

  “I’ve been debriefed more than once. I’ve told you everything I know. For God’s sake, I’ve been over and over that weekend with dozens of agents. I didn’t see anything. I didn’t talk to anyone unusual. I don’t recall hearing anything out of the ordinary. What more do you want me to do?”

  “Nothing, sir. That’s fine, then.” Commander Pratt clicked something on his laptop and the awful photo vanished. In its place was a completely different scene, but one that was more familiar to me. Because the lighting was low, it was difficult to make out all the details, but I knew that we were looking at the terrace at Viscount Weymouth’s home on the night of his impromptu dance.

  “This is really the more pressing matter of discussion.” Pratt glanced at me, his expression curiously blank. “We need to talk about what happened at this party, and as precisely as you can manage, ma’am, the conversation you had with this . . .” He looked down at his notes. “Scott Gorman.”

  I nodded. “All right. I’ll tell you everything I can, but to be honest, considering everything that happened right after that, it’s a little bit of a blur.” I laced my fingers with Nicky’s. “I don’t have a brain injury I can blame for my forgetfulness, but with all the worry about my husband, thinking about that man and what he said kind of fell down lower on my priority list.”

  “Understandable, ma’am.” The commander nodded. “And fortunately, you did relate the conversation to Officer West immediately after it happened, and he reported it at that time. But we’d like to ask some questions to clarify some facts.”

  “Of course.” With my free hand, I gripped the arm of my chair. “Any way I can help, I’m happy to do it.”

  “This Gorman, he approached you?” Pratt’s question was off-handed, but his voice had an underlying thread of intensity.

  I nodded. “Yes. I was standing on the edge of the dance floor, watching my sister-in-law—uh, Princess Daisy. She was dancing. I heard someone speaking to me, the voice very close to my ear, and I was startled.”

  Nicky hadn’t heard all of the details of that evening. Understandably, once he was awake and well enough for us to talk, we’d focused on other, more important topics. Now, he frowned, his brows drawing together, as the commander continued.

  “This was Gorman, then? And what exactly did he say?”

  I tried to remember it clearly. “He . . . oh, I think he said something about Daisy being the life of the party. Something along those lines. And when I realized he was not someone to whom I’d been introduced that weekend, I tried to back away a little. I tried to end the conversation and move on, but he persisted.”

  One thing I clearly recalled was the discomfort and uneasiness I’d felt around that man. I knew I had attempted to rebuff him, but either he hadn’t picked up on those cues or he’d deliberately ignored them.

  Which reminded me of what had happened next.

  “The more I tried to extricate myself from the situation, the more he clung. And then he began saying some things that felt particularly wrong. He was making insinuations about me—and he used that line of talk to segue into my work on farming changes and food sourcing.”

  Commander Pratt’s eyes narrowed. “If we could back up a bit, ma’am—did Gorman say how he’d gotten into the house? Viscount Weymouth has been interviewed, and he assured us that this man wasn’t on his guest list. He gave us the names of everyone from the local village who’d been invited.”

  “He said he’d come with a friend,” I answered. “A mate—that was how he put it. He said his friend had been invited, and when he—Scott Gorman, that is—had realized that Princess Daisy and I were going to be present, he realized that he had to come, too. At least, that was what he told me.”

  “And once there, he sought you out and engaged in conversation that led to him being cheeky.” The policeman made a note. “At what point did you begin to feel threatened by this man, ma’am?”

  “Almost right away,” I responded with a shudder. “He gave me the creeps.”

  Nicky slid his arm around me and tucked me closer to his strong body, reminding me that I was safe and loved, no matter how unpleasant the memories were.

  “However. . .” I took a deep breath. “When I felt panicked was when he began to get upset about my work. When he began accusing me of trying to change things without regard to how it might affect others. At that point, it was clear that he had an agenda, and meeting me wasn’t at all accidental. That was also when he grabbed my arm, and of course, Simon stepped in to make sure I was safe.”

  “Quite so.” Commander Pratt nodded. “All right, then. From this point, you were with Officer West, and everything is accounted for.”

  “Has this Gorman been found and arrested?” Nicky demanded. “He can’t have been that difficult to find, living in a village in Warminster. And we have his name.”

  “Unfortunately, sir, it seems that was not his real name, and he doesn’t live in Warminster.” The commander’s eyes were grim. “The party thrown by Viscount Weymouth was hardly an exclusive, secret affair, and so it wouldn’t have been too hard for someone who’d wanted access to Her Royal Highness to gain entry. We’ve interviewed all of the locals who were invited, and none of them have admitted to knowing a man named Scott Gorman. None of them will admit to bringing along an invited friend. We haven’t found any suspicious connections to pursue, either.”

  A uniformed policeman sitting at the table spoke up. “At this point, we feel that this Gorman learned that you would be at the party and worked out a way to arrive with a group. The Viscount admitted that no one was checking invitations at the door. They’ve never had a problem with uninvited guests. This fellow could’ve easily slipped in unnoticed.”

  “Do we know why, though?” Worry bloomed within my chest as I glanced from one sober face to the next. “What was his goal? Just to harass me?”

  Silence fell heavy around the room. Commander Pratt cleared his throat. “Information we’ve managed to collect from various sources indicates that the goal that evening was to kidnap the Duchess. The eco-terrorist group expected there to be chaos in the wake of the news of the bombing at the meeting Prince Nicholas was attending, and they planned to slip off with Her Royal Highness during the confusion. Happily, Officer West was able to intervene so that he was with the Duchess when he was informed of the bombing.”

  “Thank God.” Nicky closed his ey
es and rested his cheek against the top of my head. “Why in the hell would they want to kidnap Kyra?”

  “Leverage,” another policeman replied in clipped tone. “Holding her for ransom or to illustrate how violently they oppose change would’ve been the goal. The purposes of these groups—of any terrorists—are to disrupt and to cause panic, and their plan for that weekend in November was designed to do just that. The bomb they planted would have a high casualty rate, including, they hoped, the Duke of Kendal, and then they would also take the Duchess. In the wake of all that, they felt their cause would gain maximum exposure.”

  “But they failed.” Commander Pratt softened his tone. “The bomb’s placement meant that while sadly, tragically, there was loss of life, it was not nearly to the extent that they had expected or hoped. And they were not successful in capturing the Duchess, and the resulting tightening of security and intensified investigation means that they’ve had to go deeper underground.”

  “We sense that this was a matter of a one-shot deal: when they made a move, they had to make it count, because in order to do it, they were forced to come out from hiding and reveal something of the nature of their group.” The man to my left spoke up. “Ultimately, we can use the information to force them out into the light, as it were.”

  “But there will be danger still,” added Commander Pratt. “That’s why we’re increasing coverage for all members of the Royal Family and asking that both you, sir, and the Duchess as well, limit your engagement calendar to smaller, more local visits.”

  Nicky exhaled. “We’re supposed to represent Her Majesty in Canada in April. I would think that getting out of the country might be safer.”

  “Unfortunately, sir, that’s not the case. Maintaining security in another nation is more complicated, and our newest intelligence indicates that this group is not confined to the UK. We’re not dealing with domestic terrorism here; it’s international.” Commander Pratt’s voice was tinged with regret. “We’ve been working with the Palace, of course, and the decision has been made to postpone the trip to Canada. Your continued recovery will be referenced in explanation.”