by Romancing the Crown Series (13-in-1 bundle) (v1. 0) (lit)
She looked across the table now and watched Nick scowl as he spoke into the phone. It had been so long since her nephew had laughed, she almost couldn't recall the sound of it.
"I need to return to the hospital," he said when he put the telephone down. "One of my patients is in trouble." "Oh, dear."
"Sorry, love." He rose, walked around the table, and kissed the top of her head. "I'll take my formal clothes with me, then shower and change at the hospital. I won't be home late. Are you sure you don't want to come with me? I could send a car for you."
"I think not, dear. Give my regards to the king and queen."
She watched him nearly sprint across the terrace, full of purpose, anxious to assist his patient. How he thought he was going to be happy taking a month from work was a mystery to Honoria. And she so wanted him to be happy. Suddenly, just as her intuition had told her that Lara was the wrong woman to make him happy. Honoria felt a little ping of intuition now.It struck her as so obvious, she wondered why she hadn't thought of it before. The right woman had just arrived.
Chapter 4
Sarah stepped out of the shower, shaking her wet head and reaching blindly for a towel. This couldn't happening to her, could it? How in the world had she allowed herself to get roped into going to a party ? And not roped into just any party... nooo... but a big deal, fancy schmancy, annual bash at the pal-ace? And worse—on a night like tonight when her jet lagged brain was still back in San Francisco while her body was functioning like a zombie in Montebello? A while ago, when Lady Satherwaite had awakened her by tapping her shoulder—gently at first and then rather insistently—Sarah hadn't even been certain where she was. She'd been dreaming about Warren and something about balancing checkbooks and whether or not to cut the crusts off sandwitches,both subjects having an endless fascination for her fiance in the dream while Sarah kept exclaiming."Who cares, Warren? It's just a dream anyway.None of this is real, for heaven's sake. I'm not even here.Neither are you." He could be such a twit,even when she was asleep.
"I need an enormous favor from you,Sarah,dear," Lady Satherwaite had said, and then while, Sarah slowly ratcheted herself awake, the woman had gone on to explain, quite dramatically, that Sir Dominic was in dire, even drastic need of a companion for some big deal at the palace. Old Sir Dominic needed a date! Good grief.
"I can't," Sarah answered automatically and pretty firmly for somebody still half asleep. "Of course you can." After that, every excuse she dredged up from her soggy brain was immediately put down. The woman wouldn't take no for an answer. "I don't want to go," she told her. "Nonsense," Lady Satherwaite replied. Sarah's best and final argument—that she didn't have a thing to wear for such an occasion— had failed miserably when Honoria Satherwaite smiled triumphantly and said, "Not to worry, dear.I've already seen to that."
And so she had. After wrapping a big, fluffy towel around herself and scampering back to her room, Sarah discovered the most beautiful dress she'd ever seen in her life waiting for her, spread out upon her bed.It was a deep, rich, red satin, the color of geraniums, with a long, graceful bell of a skirt and a simple strapless bodice. Stunningly simple. Exquisitively elegant, The sort of dress that Audrey Hepburn might have worn in a film with Cary Grant. "I think these shoes will do," Lady Satherwaite said, fluttering into the bedroom, a pair of delicate strappy silver sandals dangling from her hand. "Do you like the gown?" "It's gorgeous."
"I haven't a doubt in the world that it will fit. You look to be about the same size as Lara." Her gaze dropped a few inches. "A bit bustier, however, I must say." "Lara?"
"Nicky's late wife. I thought you knew." Sarah made a tiny gasping sound. "Oh, I can't wear her dress, then. What would Sir Dominic think? Surely just the sight of it would bring back painful memories."
"Actually, Nicky's never seen this gown. Lara bought it and hid it in the back of her closet to inspire herself to get her figure back after their baby was born." She sighed. "Alas, that wasn't to be. Poor girl. But as far as my nephew is concerned, there are no memories attached to it at all. It's just a frock he's never seen. I don't think he even notices such things, to tell you the truth."
"Well, then I suppose it's all right." Sarah reached out to touch the elegant satin of the skirt.It was probably a designer original. It probably cost more than she made in six months at the clinic.It would be sort of fun, actually, wearing it for one night. She'd feel a bit like Cinderella.
"It really is gorgeous," she said with a sigh. "But I—"
"Of course it is. No arguing now, Sarah. There simply isn't time. Give a shout when you've got it on, my dear, and I'll come help with the zipper in back.
Just moments later, Sarah had barely gotten herself into the dress when Lady Satherwaite floated back into the room like some huge, purple fairy godmother.
"Oh, my dear! Don't you look divine?" she exclaimed. "Just look." She whirled Sarah around to face the full-length mirror on the closet door,then tugged up the zipper. Well, she didn't look horrible, she thought. In fact she looked far better than she felt on just a few hours sleep. Her eyes weren't bloodshot or half mast or anything. Her complexion wasn't gray. She looked not horrible. In fact, she looked okay. For a zombie, anyway. As for the dress, it was absolutely amazing. It looked as if it belonged on the cover of Vogue.
"Brush your hair a bit, dear," Lady Satherwaite said "and put on just a skimming of lipstick. I'll call a car for you."
"I'd really rather walk," Sarah said. "The palace is just around the corner."
"Nonsense."
Just then a small face with large brown eyes appeared in the doorway. Large and very curious brown eyes beneath a mop of soft brown hair. Sarah felt her heart melt at the sight of the little boy. Children, almost all of them, had the most endearing eyes. The scientist in her was aware that this was simply because of proportion, that children's eyes were still quite large in comparison to their little faces. But, scientist or not, deep in her heart she still believed it was because their souls shone through more readily, more clearly than any adult's. "Hello," she said. "You must be Leo." She knelt on the floor in a huge billow of red satin, and held out both her hands. "I'm Sarah. And I've been waiting to meet you."
The child aimed a quizzical glance at Lady Satherwaite.
"You may come in, my dearest," she said. "Come on, then. It's quite all right, Leo. Shake hands with your new nanny. There's a good little gentleman."
As he walked from the doorway in his blue Winnie the Pooh footed jammies, Sarah attempted to study his expression without appearing too clinical too interested. He didn't seem to be the least bit fearful, or even particularly shy. The boy made direct eye contact with her. In fact, his gaze never wavered from her face as he approached. It was almost as if he was trying to identify her. Studying her face as if she was standing in a lineup.
His small hands were warm when he reached out to place them in hers. Trust shone in his big brown eyes. A tiny smile flirted at the corners of his mouth.
"Oh, do be careful, Leo darling," his great aunt moaned somewhere above them. "You're trampling her dress."
"That's all right." Sarah kept a sure, but gentle grip on his hands while her eyes stayed fixed on his. "I don't mind at all. I'm just so happy to finally meet you, Leo."
His smile didn't evaporate, as she might have expected with a troubled child. If anything, it seemed to increase a little bit. Sarah took that as an excellent sign.
"We're going to have so much fun together,Leo. I can tell that already," she told him. "I've brought lots of toys for us to play with. I hope we can get started tomorrow after we eat breakfast."
She made it a point not to ask him a direct question because she didn't want the boy to feel threatened by her in any way or the least bit pressured to speak. But he would. In his own good time. With her help.And soon, perhaps. She was certain of it. Now,even more than before, she wished she didn't have to attend this wretched affair at the palace just because old Sir Dominic didn't have a date.
"Run a
long to bed now, young man," Lady Satherwaite said. "I'll be in for your prayers in just a few minutes."
"Good night, Leo," Sarah said softly. She reached up to ruffle his hair. "See you tomorrow. We're going to have so much fun. I can't wait."
The feet of his pj's made little brushing noises on the carpet as he turned and skipped out of the room.
"That went rather well," Lady Satherwaite said with a pronounced sigh. She sounded almost relieved, as if she hadn't expected their first encounter to go well at all.
Sarah got to her feet carefully inside the voluminous yards of red satin. "Yes, I think it did. He's adorable."
"Quite adorable," she said with obvious pride. "And quite intelligent, too."
"You mentioned his prayers, Lady Satherwaite. Leo doesn't actually say them out loud, does he?" she asked, hoping against hope that he did. Some children with mutism still chose to verbalize in selected settings or with selected people. If this were the case with Leo, her work would be even easier. "From your lips to the Almighty's ears," the the woman said, rolling her eyes heavenward. "The child hasn't made a peep for nearly three weeks.Not to anyone, as far as I'm aware. Certainly not to his father nor to me. Not even his sweet prayers."
"Well, I hope it won't be long before he's saying his prayers out loud again," Sarah said, trying not to sound overly optimistic before she had actually begun to work with the child. "I'm anxious to begin working with him tomorrow. What time does Leo usually get up for his breakfast?"
"Seven or seven-thirty. Thereabouts." "Good. I'll set my alarm for six-thirty so I'll be ready to join him for breakfast."
Lady Satherwaite frowned. "So early, dear?Are you sure you'll be up to it?"
"Yes, of course. Why wouldn't I be?"
"Well, it's bound to be a late night at the palace.No one ever leaves before the king and queen,and they rarely give up the proverbial ghost until well after midnight. Quite the revelers, those two."
"Oh." She didn't mean to sound so disappointed,even though she was. The prospect of being Sir Dominic's date for more than an hour or two was thoroughly depressing. "You'll have a lovely time, I'm sure. Nicky can be very charming when he puts his mind to it,and he's quite a good dancer." "That's nice." Sarah peered into the mirror and ran a trace of lipstick across her mouth. Then she finger-combed her damp hair into a halfway decent style. She didn't want to look too good, actually. The worse she looked, the less the old geezer would be attracted to her.Or so she hoped. Which suddenly reminded her that she didn't have a clue what her date for the evening looked like.
"How will I recognize Sir Dominic?" she asked, "How...? Oh, my goodness. Well, let me think.
Other than being the handsomest man in the room..."
I'll just bet, Sarah thought as she waited for Lady Satherwaite to continue with words like bald, pot-bellied, liver-spotted, and knock-kneed. Jeez. He probably didn't even have his own teeth, and his breath probably reeked of cigars and brandy.
"I know how you'll recognize him," the big woman said. "Nicky will be the only one there this evening wearing an Olympic medal. That should make him quite easy to identify."
"That should work," Sarah said with a last glance in the mirror. "Well, that's the best I can do. Cinderella,as they say, is ready for the ball."
Lady Satherwaite smiled as she gazed at Sarah approvingly, then said, "Oh, how I wish I could change a pumpkin into a coach for you. Do let me call you a car, dear."
Sarah shook her head. "I'm looking forward to the walk," she said. "The fresh air will do me good."
Maybe even keep her awake, she hoped.
* * *
Nick came down the back staircase at the palace after a quick visit with his old pal, Prince Lucas,in the family quarters. The prince continued to do well after his ordeal of the past year following his plane crash. He was lucky to be alive, actually.
As Nick approached the ballroom where the Olympic gala was to take place, it occurred to him that he'd spent a great deal of his life right here in these regal surroundings.
He and Lucas had been the best of friends from grade school on, so from the age of eight or nine, Nick had practically lived here on the weekends.He and Lucas had made prank phone calls from the palace switchboard, dropped water balloons on visiting dignitaries, gone skinny-dipping in the fountains, started a fire in an upstairs trash basket when they'd experimented with cigarettes, done every silly thing that young boys do, and been royally punished for their misdeeds.
The king and queen had been like a second set of parents to him, in addition to his Aunt Honoria.It was the royal family, in fact, who had paid for his medical education. And after Lara died, it was King Marcus himself who had insisted that Nick and his son move onto the palace grounds where the boy could be looked after better.
He hadn't done such a good job with that, had he?
The royal couple was just as concerned about his son's silence as if Leo were their very own grand-child.They'd been pressuring him hard to take the boy to a psychologist, but they didn't seem to understand that as a physician, Nick felt compelled to rule out all physical causes of his son's mutism begin he could begin to consider psychotherapy of any sort.
And now that all the tests had come back either negative or well within normal ranges, and after he'd consulted with some of the best neurologists and ear, nose and throat men on the continent, Nick was finally prepared to take the next step, although what that would be other than spending the next month one-on-one with his son, he wasn't quite sure. With any luck, merely being together all the time would accomplish some sort of miracle in the speech department. In the meantime, he intended to locate and to read everything ever written on the subject of mutism.
He turned into the corridor that led to the ballroom where tonight's festivities were to take place. If he were incredibly lucky, the king and queen would introduce him early on and he would be able to sneak out the palace's back door well before midnight. "There you are, Sir Dominic. At last. I've been looking all over for you."
The woman who spoke was standing just outside the ballroom doors. She was lovely in a severe sort of way. Nick was certain he knew her—there were always so many familiar faces floating around at affairs like these—but he couldn't come up with a name.
"I'm Sophia Strezzi, the king's appointment secretary," she said, holding out a hand toward him. "We've spoken frequently. Just last week, as a matter of fact."
Had they? Nick couldn't recall. Still, he took her hand and bent to place his lips on the delicate knuckles. The gallant gesture his Aunt Honoria had insisted upon in his youth had become a habit after all these years.
When she withdrew her hand from his,she reached into a small handbag and produced a medal dangling from a ribbon. "I retrieved this from the Olympic exhibit at the museum, at the king's request," she said.
Nick had to bite down on a grin. His bronze medal had been in the royal museum ever since he had won the damned thing. "The king doesn't trust me with it," he told the appointment secretary, only half in jest. "His majesty is enormously proud of your accomplishment," she said. "As are we all. Now,if you'll allow me..."
She was tall enough so that Nick merely had to bend a bit for her to ease the ribbon over his head and around his neck. He always forgot how heavy the medal was. Gazing down at the interlocked Oympic rings, he found himself also gazing at Ms. Strezzi's fingers as they lingered a bit on his chest, "It came to my attention," she said, "that you didn't have a dinner partner this evening, Sir Dominic. I've taken the liberty of seating myself beside you.I hope you don't mind."
"Not at all," he replied.
The sad truth was that he not only didn't mind, he was totally indifferent to the woman's overtures. It didn't matter that she was quite stunning or that she smelled like gardenias and was obviously attracted to him. The appointment secretary might as well have been been a coatrack for all he was attracted to her. He wondered again when, or if, his sexual desire would return. It had been absent for four years now,
ever since Lara's death. He kept intending to make an appointment with Emmanuel Giardello, the hospital's head of urology, even though he was reasonably certain there was nothing physically wrong. His libido was gone. That was all. Shrivelled. Shattered. Gone with the proverbial wind. And he was indifferent to its retrieval.
"Well, I'll see you at dinner, then," he said, sounding far more eager and charming than he felt, as he stepped back from the secretary's lingering hand and proceeded to make his way into the crowded ballroom.
Sarah could hear the music in the distance. It was Mozart, she thought, and quite lovely. She could even see the glow of the palace in the night sky,but damned if she could get there.
Two wrong turns at the same stupid Cupid's fountain had brought her practically back to where she started, not too far from the burned-out guest-house. The place that had looked rather forbidding by daylight was positively creepy when lit only by the moon and a few of the gaslights scattered about the palace grounds. The acrid smell of the fire was still lingering in the air.
For a minute she wished Warren were with her. Not that she really missed his company,but she was great with directions. A veritable human compass. He was always so logical. When he told her "If you're facing west,then north has to be on your right", Sarah always found herself wanting to really irritate him by replying "Well, not necessarily."
The good thing about Warren was he knew how to get there from here. The bad thing was he had no appreciation of what lay between. If something wasn't on his to-do list, he wouldn't even consider doing it. For Warren, everything was black or white,while Sarah tended to see myriad shades of gray.For Warren, two and two always added up to four, while for Sarah, two and two could sometimes be five or even six, depending on how you looked at it.
Which was undoubtedly why she was lost right now, and why she had chosen to marry someone so unlike herself. Lost was not a good way to be. She'd witnessed that firsthand when her brother, Elliot, lost his beloved wife and daughter to a car accident, and then lost himself to years of pain and grief. There had been nothing she could do to help him. Nothing, That was when she vowed she'd never allow herself to suffer a similar loss. What if she couldn't help herself?
