by Rachel Hauck
“Indeed, you were coronated as Prince of Brighton last month,” Madeline said. “What a lovely ceremony.”
“And with the coronation, I became patron of the War Memorial. The memorial needs some attention, and there is much to be done for the families of our military men and women, so today I’m announcing my full retirement from professional rugby.”
A tangible, forceful gasp rose from the audience.
“This is such a sad day for Brighton rugby.” Hyacinth leaned toward Stephen, cue card in hand.
“Corina, what do you say? Do you support this?” Madeline read from her cards. “You said in an interview last month that you first fell in love with the rugby player not the prince.”
“I said I fell in love with him on the rugby pitch. I fell in love with the man. I had to accept the prince part that came with him.”
The audience laughed with a soft sprinkle of applause.
“Will you be starting a family soon?” Hyacinth said.
“Tell you what, Madeline, you’ll be the first to know when a baby’s born,” Corina said to the delight of the audience.
Stephen tucked back his grin, but he could not be more proud of his soon-to-be wife. She was going to do fine in the circus that followed his family.
“I’m sure the Eagles will miss you, Your Highness,” Hyacinth said. “Will you miss the sport? You’ve been quoted many times over the years saying rugby was your life.”
“I love rugby and it’s been very good to me. I’m grateful to Coach and the lads on the team. I couldn’t have achieved what I did without them, but they’ve several wingers coming up who will far outshine me. And good for them.”
They bantered about rugby and Stephen’s triumph in the Number 14 wing position until commercial.
“Having a good time?” Stephen whispered to Corina.
“Yes, because I’m with you.” Corina kissed him, the audience approving with a corporate sigh.
The studio light came up as the show returned from the commercial break. “We’re back with our very special guests, Prince Stephen and his fiancée, Corina Del Rey,” Hyacinth said. “We are just so excited to have you both.”
“Hy,” Madeline said, breaking in, “I just have to ask this.” She bounced in her seat. “Corina, Prince Stephen has been touted as one of the world’s most eligible bachelors, and certainly one of the most sought after. Though he was so focused on rugby he didn’t notice.”
“I think I’m liking rugby more and more,” Corina said.
“So you can imagine how floored we all were to hear you two were married. I’m sure the women in our audience are dying to know, how did you catch the prince?”
Corina released his hand, sitting forward, clasping her hands at her knee. “I’m not really sure. We met in a postgrad class at Knoxton and—”
“Can I answer the question?” Stephen sat forward. He was the only one who really knew how this incredible woman won his heart.
“Please do,” Madeline said.
Corina swiveled to face him. “Oh no, babe, what are you going to say?”
“Babe? Is that your nickname for him?” Hyacinth loved the nitty-gritty.
“One of them,” Stephen said with a wink.
“Oh, I want to hear more about that in a minute,” Madeline said. “But just how did American Corina Del Rey catch the heart of our Prince of Brighton?”
Stephen reached for Corina’s hand. “She loved me well. She loved me well.”
THIRTY
Cathedral City
Cathedral of David
October 19
Under a crisp blue Brighton Kingdom sky, Corina held fast to her father’s hand as they rode in an open-air, gilded black-and-red carriage, drawn by four gleaming chestnut-colored horses and accompanied by ten footmen, through the city streets swarming with well-wishers.
“The roar is so loud I can’t hear myself think,” Daddy said, laughing, his heart beating in his eyes.
Corina drew on his strength and waved at the crowd, a nervous laugh in her chest. “Their rugby prince is getting married. And it’s a national holiday.”
“Nervous?” Daddy squeezed her hand.
“Worse than the Miss Georgia pageant when my shoe broke.” Corina leaned against him. “But I’m so excited.”
“I’m proud of you, Kit.” He cleared the emotion from his voice. “Carlos would be proud but reminding Stephen he’s getting the greatest girl in the world and to treat her as such.”
She exhaled. “I feel blessed to have him, Daddy. I never stopped loving him. Even in the dark days when I thought our marriage was annulled.”
The carriage turned down the wide Rue du Roi, passing under the two-hundred-year-old royal oaks, ablaze with fall’s reddish orange.
The Cathedral of David, where Stephen was coronated officially as Prince of Brighton a month ago, awaited them, watching the avenue with its spiral peaks.
“Thank you for loving and accepting him, Daddy.” Stephen had properly asked Donald Del Rey to marry his daughter. And he’d asked forgiveness for his role in the death of their son.
A deep healing began that day in the Del Reys. They weren’t the family they used to be, but they were on the journey to the family they would become.
“What choice did I have, Kit? You loved him and Carlos gave his life for him. Plus, he’s the Prince of Brighton.” Daddy winked. “Your mother had breakfast with the Queen Mum. And her daughter is going to be a princess.” Daddy laughed. “She was born for this world. It’s like the mother ship has called her home.”
“She and Queen Campbell have several friends in common.”
“She’s healing, Corina. I’m healing.” Daddy’s voice choked up and he tapped the end of her nose, an affection that started when she was a baby. “You’ve brought us all healing and love again.”
Love well.
The carriage pulled up to the cathedral, the clip-clop of the horse’s hooves fading to a stop. At the red carpet, two footmen opened the carriage door.
Corina descended the carriage steps, holding on to Daddy, pausing to wave at the crowd, taking the time to focus, see their faces. After all, they took time out of their busy lives to celebrate with her.
At the nave entrance, matron of honor Daisy and bridesmaid Melissa waited with the royal wedding director, Tama.
“Queen Campbell and Princess Susanna are seated, and your mother just went down the aisle.” Tama handed Corina her wedding bouquet with a small locket containing a picture of Carlos, laughing, resting among the lilies. “We’re ready for you in thirty seconds . . . as soon as the music changes.”
“You look so beautiful,” Daisy said with a light embrace, tears in her eyes. “And my dream came true. You are a princess.”
“You’re beaming,” Melissa said.
“It means everything to me that you’re both here.”
In that moment, the music changed and “The Bride’s Rhapsody” began, a piece composed especially for Corina and Stephen. The stringed melody rose into the high, arched nave ceiling with notes of joy and celebration.
If she had had any reservations, it was too late now.
“Remember,” Daddy said, offering his hand, “everyone here is for you.”
Corina placed her trembling hand on Daddy’s, her heart’s beat resounding through her.
But she’d had this date with destiny for a long time.
As she glided down the aisle with her hand cupped over Daddy’s, her gaze locked with Stephen’s. His smile trembled, and even from her distance, she saw the glisten of emotion in his eyes.
He was dashing and handsome in his dress blues, a bank of medals over his heart, and the gold royal braid around his shoulder.
Halfway down, among the oohs and ahhs, Corina slowed, pausing to notice Adelaide and Brill sitting on the aisle end of a long, polished pew.
Adelaide’s eyes overflowed and Brill puffed out his chest, smoothing his hand over the tuft of grey hair sprouting from the crown of his head
. Then he extended his hand, producing a single rose.
Tears captured Corina’s eyes, and she broke rank to reach for the beautiful bloom. “You?”
Brill beamed, winking.
“Better keep moving, Kit,” Daddy whispered.
But Corina leaned to kiss the old man, if indeed he was a man, on the cheek. Then Adelaide. “Thank you for everything.”
“Our honor. Just remember, you’ve the tiara, never forget to drink from the cup.”
“I won’t, I won’t.”
“Kit, shug, we best keep going.”
“Those are my friends, Daddy. The ones I told you about.”
Daddy, such a southern gentleman, shook Brill’s then Adelaide’s hand as the music soared over and among them with the glide of violins and cellos.
As they started again down the aisle, Stephen stepped down from the altar, moving toward them.
In long, even strides, with no hint of a limp, he approached. Were it not for his smile, she might collapse to the floor. What was he doing?
“Mr. Del Rey, may I have the honor of walking my bride the rest of the way to the altar?”
Daddy checked with Corina. She nodded, melting with tears, and whispered to Stephen. “You’re going to mess up my makeup.”
“Sorry, love, I just want to do the honor of presenting you to the Lord myself.”
Daddy kissed Corina’s hand and backed away. “I love you, Kit.” He shook Stephen’s hand. “You take care of my girl. I trust you with her life.”
Corina breathed in, her emotion swelling. Stephen, right there in the middle of the aisle, with millions watching, broke into tears, resting his forehead on Daddy’s shoulder.
“It’s all right, son, it’s all right.” For a long moment, Daddy held his son-in-law in love and comfort.
“Psst, shall we get going?” Tama, flushed and wide-eyed.
Stephen raised his head with a laugh. “I suppose we’d best get on with this wedding.” He brushed his cheeks with his fingers and moved in beside Corina, replacing Daddy.
“You do know I’m crazy about you, don’t you?” She couldn’t take her eyes from him. He was so brilliant and bright with the light of love.
“Not half as crazy as I am about you.”
Corina prepared to walk forward with him, but Stephen looked around the grand nave. “Esteemed guests,” he said, the orchestra bringing down the volume of the rhapsody yet keeping the joy and celebration in each movement. “Thank you for being here. I married this woman in secret before I deployed to Afghanistan. Then when I came home, broken from an intense battle, I felt I wasn’t worthy of her. So I sent her away.”
Corina caught the silky trickle of tears at the edge of her chin.
“For over five years, she dealt with her pain alone, but through a series of rather divine events, we came together again.” Stephen clapped his hand over his heart, his gaze now on her, full of blue persuasion. “She loved me when I showed her no regard. When I rebuffed and rejected her. She loved me well. She loved me to Jesus, where I finally discovered what it meant to be a man of worth. So I want the whole world to know I love this woman!” His shout rose to the rafters and rained over them.
The guests cast off decorum and cheered.
Stephen walked her the rest of the way down the aisle to the altar, past their smiling and glassy-eyed friends and family, where the Archbishop of Brighton began the traditional ceremony.
And then the world knew her secret. Corina Del Rey loved the Prince of Brighton.
EPILOGUE
Three days later
Love, I’ve an idea.” Stephen roped Corina into a kiss as she contemplated what to pack for her honeymoon. They were leaving in the morning for an undisclosed place and Stephen’s only hint was, “Pack your bathing suit and knickers. That’s all you’ll need.”
“An idea?” She stared at the pile of clothes on her bed. One with beach wear. Another with mountain wear. “Stephen, babe, come on, where are we going? What should I pack?” She turned in his arms and shoved him down on the bed, kissing him as they tumbled.
“I told you, bathing suit and knickers.” He laughed. Which he did every time he said that, so she had no idea how serious to take him.
“Fine. I’ll pack things that go with bathing suits and clothes that fit over my knickers.” She tried to shove away from him, but he held on, rolling her over and kissing her neck. “Is this your idea from a minute ago?” She laughed softly, unable to resist his wordless overtures.
“No, ’tis not.” He raised up, hopping to his feet. “Let’s pop round to the Manor, say hello to Adelaide and Brill. We’ve not given them a proper thank-you for their part in our relationship.”
Over the four months of their engagement, Corina detailed her strange and seemingly holy encounters with the old proprietors. She’d visited them twice when she’d been in the city for wedding planning. But her last visit had been over six weeks ago.
“Babe, now that’s a great idea. I didn’t get to spend much time with them at the wedding other than to say hi.” Corina took a sweater from the mountain honeymoon pile and slipped on her ankle boots, looking forward to heading out on this crisp, cool Brighton October evening.
“Same here,” Stephen said, tugging a jumper over his head. “I looked for them at the reception but couldn’t find them.”
Downstairs, they informed Nicolas, Stephen’s new butler-aide-valet, that they were going out.
“Very good, Your Highness.”
Stephen took Corina’s hand as they walked toward the garage. He ventured out more and more on his own, without Thomas, to places he could trust.
“I’m still sad about Robert,” he said.
“You did the right thing.”
“But you should’ve seen his face when he confessed he’d eavesdropped on Nathaniel and me, then informed Gigi Beaumont about us . . . He was in tears. Said he didn’t know what possessed him. Who ever dreamed a palace servant would’ve ever been entangled with the likes of Gigi Beaumont?”
“But he has a good place now at The Wellington, right? As for Gigi, never underestimate her.”
“Well Nicolas was thoroughly investigated. Robert was one thing, but I also don’t want another Asif—”
“Hey,” Corina stopped, turning him to her. “That’s it. No more guilt, regret talk. It’s over, forgiven, and we are moving on. And we are safe, babe.”
“Right, right.” Stephen kissed her forehead. “See, this is why I need you in my life.” He opened the Audi passenger door for her.
Before slipping into her seat, she peered into his eyes. “I love you, Your Highness.”
“Same to you, Your Royal Highness Princess Corina, Princess of Brighton.”
She sighed. “I’m not sure I’ll ever tire of hearing that.”
Stephen chuckled and gently pushed her into her seat. “Let’s go. I want to grab a late dinner on the way home.”
They cruised across town, their hands entwined, resting on the console. At a quarter to six, the sun was already drifting toward the west, tracing golden-orange hues across the last of the fall day.
For Sunday evening, the city center lacked the noise and chaos of the week, but the streets flowed with theatre and dinner traffic, and the park was alive with families out for the evening.
Stephen approached the Manor from the south, weaving through back streets, finally pulling along the curb.
“Here we are . . . looks rather dark.” Stephen leaned past Corina to see out her window as he cut the engine. “Let’s get out and see what’s going on.”
Corina squinted at the darkness between Gliden and Martings, where the warm, holy glow of the Manor used to be and stepped out. Stephen came around to join her, muttering to himself. “What’s going on?”
Where the Manor once stood was a narrow, shadowed alley.
“It’s gone.” Corina ran down the cobblestones, turning back to Stephen. “Do you see what I don’t see?”
“I see an alley and no Man
or.” He stood back, staring between the two giant department stores.
“Did someone tear it down?” Corina battled a sense of sadness and loss. “Who would do this to sweet Adelaide and Brill?” She cupped her hand around her mouth and called. “Adelaide! Brill!” Across the street, the rising lights of the park sparked an idea. “The park. Maybe they’re in the park.” She started to dash around the car, but Stephen caught her arm.
“Love, I doubt they’d have moved the Manor to the park.”
“Then where? Where are they?” She ran back to the alley. “This is unbelievable.” She swerved toward Stephen. “Clive Boston gave me a ride home from the interview and he said he saw nothing but an alley. I thought he was mocking me.”
“Now that you mention it, Thomas admitted he never saw the Manor either. He found it rather scary that we did, but all he ever saw was an alley.”
Corina pressed her hand to her middle, her skin hot with the sense of descending revelation. “Then what did we see? I lived here for a week, Stephen. Slept in a bed, talked to Adelaide and Brill. Showered, used the Internet, ate food.”
Across the road, in the shifting light of sunset, Corina caught a glimpse of a woman. The woman in white. She ran to the curb. “Stephen, there’s the lady . . . the one who sent me to the Manor. Hey! Hello? Where are Adelaide and Brill?”
The woman looked up but kept walking between two park lamps and disappeared in their light.
“What lady?”
“In the white coat.” Corina pointed. “She was right there, on the edge of the park. You didn’t see her? She’s gone.”
“Gone?”
“I’m starting to feel like a Doctor Who episode.” Corina slumped with disappointment and walked with Stephen back to the dark alley.
Then, from behind them, a beam of light layered past, spotlighting the side of Martings and a plain polished box at the opening of the alley.
“Adelaide’s box.” Corina dropped to one knee and gently opened the lid. “The tiara.”
“From the premier,” Stephen said.
“Yes. Adelaide said it belonged to the Manor. She watched over it.”
