The Prince: The Young Royals 1

by S. A. Gordon

  “When my sister’s private secretary requests a meeting, I know it’s not really a request but an order,” David said, pursing his lips briefly before his face relaxed into a smile.

  “Sir,” continued Oliver, “as you know, His Majesty granted Her Royal Highness her own Household upon her twenty-first birthday, in acknowledgment of her expanding role and commitments, but it was decided that you and Princess Margaret would remain within his Household.”

  “Yes,” David said. “And I’ve happily done whatever Beverly’s told me to do ever since.” He turned to smile at his father’s private secretary, who continued to beam at him.

  Oliver cleared his throat. “Sir,” he said, “we feel that your affairs should now be managed by Her Royal Highness’s Household.”

  David narrowed his eyes as he looked between the two private secretaries.

  “I see,” he said slowly. “Did my sister ask for this? She hasn’t said anything to me.”

  “Her Royal Highness has not yet been informed of the change,” said Oliver.

  “Don’t you think she should be?” David said sharply. “Since she’s the one who’ll be paying for me.”

  “We wanted to discuss it with you first, sir,” said Beverly.

  “Beverly, you’ve always called me ‘David,’” the prince said kindly. “Don’t stop now.”

  Beverly smiled meekly. “Thank you, sir, but I think I’ll stick to protocol.” She looked nervously at Oliver, and David noticed.

  “You think my father’s going to die soon,” David said bluntly. “That’s it, isn’t it?”

  “Sir?” Oliver said.

  “You think Alix is about to become Queen and you want to ensure that I’m in her Household when it happens, to make the transition more … manageable. One Household to manage the monarch and the heir to the throne, less people involved in making decisions at a time of upheaval. And you, Oliver, get to tell us both what to do.” He stared at the man.

  Oliver sat up straighter. “There are practical considerations, sir, yes, but that is not the reason for the change right now.”

  “Then what is?”

  “The King’s Household needs to focus on the King,” Beverly said softly. “This is an unprecedented situation, sir—to have the monarch indisposed indefinitely. It has not occurred in living memory. We are all learning how to manage it.”

  “And it is, therefore, better if Her Royal Highness’s Household can take on some of the work, sir,” Oliver concluded.

  David folded his hands in his laps. “Ah, I see,” he said finally. “Work. That’s what we’re really here about.” Amusement flitted briefly across his face. “You know, Oliver, if you just wanted me to work harder, all you had to do was ask. You didn’t have to bring me here under the pretext of moving me into Alix’s Household.”

  “It is not a pretext, sir,” Oliver said, his jaw tightening. “The change is real.”

  “Don’t condescend to me, Oliver,” David said firmly. “It’s bad enough you’ve done it for the last few years. You don’t need to keep doing it. I get the message: you think I’m a layabout.”

  “Sir, that’s not—”

  “Spare me,” David said, flicking a hand. “I am perfectly aware of what my father’s and my sister’s staff think of me. And if I tell you that it was my father’s wish that I spend some time doing not much at all, you’d simply think I was coming up with an excuse.” He sighed loudly. “I am not afraid of work and I never have been. If you want to put me to work now, tell me what I need to do.”

  The private secretaries exchanged glances.

  “Sir,” Beverly began, “Her Royal Highness is taking over His Majesty’s engagements. In addition to her own—”

  “You’d like me to take over Alix’s engagements in turn,” David stated. “That’s fine. All I ask is that I’m not plunged into something without a briefing—I can’t stand turning up to something not knowing who’s who and what’s what. In other words, don’t send me to something this afternoon.”

  “Th-thank you, sir,” said Oliver, sounding relieved.

  “You thought I’d put up a fight, didn’t you, Ollie?” said David, patting him on the arm. “Sorry to disappoint.”

  “I can assure you that I am not disappointed, sir.”

  “Good. What else?”

  “Sir?”

  “Beverly’s looking at me like she has to tell me that my cat’s whiskers are being amputated. Come on, Bev, out with it.”

  Beverly huffed a little and shifted in her seat.

  “Sir, this is a sensitive time for the country … for the Commonwealth,” she said.

  David looked at her carefully. “Mmm.”

  “We need to tell the nation a story: that the royal family is stable and united, that despite His Majesty’s illness, the United Kingdom and its people are still the family’s priority.”

  “Of course,” David murmured. “And we are stable and united. Have you heard that we’re not? Because I can assure you that my sisters and I—”

  “It’s not that, sir,” Oliver interjected. “We are not at all worried about your relationship with your sisters.”

  David sat forward suddenly. “Oh,” he said. “So it’s other sorts of relationships you’re worried about.”

  “We can’t afford any distractions, sir,” said Beverly in a rush. “The press must not be allowed to have even the chance to report on anything other than the stability and unity of the Princess Royal and her siblings. It is for the good of the country, sir.”

  Nodding, David looked at her and smiled kindly. “Of course,” he said. “I understand.”

  “As far as we know, sir, you do not have a … relationship of any sort at the moment?” said Oliver.

  David sat back, his mind racing. If he told them about Caitlin, then Caitlin became their property. And he barely knew her. No matter what he thought might develop between them, it was necessarily on hold while his father was unwell, and he could not subject her to the scrutiny that Oliver, in particular, would place her under. Nor could he trust that there wouldn’t be a leak from within the Household. No: once they knew she existed, she wasn’t entirely his anymore. He wasn’t ready for that. And he was sure she wasn’t either.

  “There’s no one,” David said quietly, and he was rewarded with the first smile Oliver had offered since he arrived.

  “Let’s keep it that way, sir,” he said. “At least, for now.”

  David stood suddenly and Oliver and Beverly scrambled to their feet.

  “If that’s all?” David said, looking from one to the other.

  “Yes, sir,” said Oliver.

  “You’ll send someone to brief me on the upcoming engagements?”

  “Absolutely, sir. Her Royal Highness was due to attend a luncheon in two days’ time—that is the first engagement we would like you to attend.”

  “Won’t they be disappointed—to have me instead of her?”

  “Of course not, David,” said Beverly, mildly scolding in tone.

  “So you do remember my name,” David teased.

  “The people love you,” Beverly continued. “They just don’t see you very often. We’re hoping to remedy that now.”

  David nodded. “All right. But if they throw tomatoes at me, I’m holding you responsible.” He kissed her quickly on each cheek. “Arrivederci.”

  Beverly curtsied and Oliver bowed his head before shaking the prince’s hand.

  David buttoned up his suit jacket as he strode from the room, thinking about what the next few days, weeks and months would bring, feeling like he was entering a tunnel of indeterminate length and dim lighting.

  He smiled briefly at Mick and Stan as they rejoined him outside the door and ignored the adoring gazes of the other staff as he left the building.

  *

  “Davide, there you are,” called a sleek-haired, angular young man as David rode up to the stables alone. He was panting and the horse was slick with sweat, and he laughed as he pulled to a stop
and dismounted.

  “Hal,” he said, walking over to shake his friend’s hand. “Where have you been? We hardly knew what to do with ourselves last night. Had to crawl through some ghastly pantry to find the drinks cupboard.”

  “I had to stay in the city.” Hal nodded toward the horse. “Were you doing equine aerobics or something? My horse looks like she needs a warm bath and some Tiger Balm.”

  “We just went for a tear around the place. It’s nice to have some time on my own.” David wiped his brow with the back of his hand. “I might have been a bit too keen to make the most of it. She didn’t complain.”

  Hal nodded, grinning. “She wouldn’t. She’s used to my mother going off for hours on end.”

  “So—staying late in the city?”

  “I had to close that hotel deal I was telling you about.” Hal inclined his head toward the house and they started to walk.

  “Ah yes, the odd consortium of Irishman and Omanis. All sold, then?”

  “It seems so.” Hal’s grin was wide. “Let’s just say we’re dipping into the vintages tonight.”

  “And they’re obviously not kept with whatever it was we drank last night.” David moaned. “My head.”

  “You must have found my father’s emergency supply of Chilean wine.”

  As they reached the back door of the manor house, David kicked off his riding boots and walked inside, Hal standing back for him.

  “Darling?” came a tinkling voice down the hall.

  “Which darling are you referring to?” David replied as his younger sister emerged out of the gloom.

  “You, darling,” she said, kissing him once on each cheek. “Did you have a good ride?”

  “I did.” David smirked. “Did you?” Now he grinned.

  “Stop it!” Margaret whacked him playfully on the arm. “Hal, make him stop being rude.”

  “I’m just your secret boyfriend, Margaret,” Hal said, laughing. “He outranks me.”

  “Honestly,” said Margaret, sounding exasperated, “it’s ridiculous that we have to sneak around just because Beverly says so. Who on earth cares if I have a delicious young beau when Alix is busy keeping an eye on everything? She’s the only one they care about. And you, too, of course, darling,” she added hastily, blowing a kiss at her brother. “I’m just the sparest spare. Can’t I have my fun and not worry?”

  “Not yet. It’s only been a few weeks, Rita. We have to take things quietly and not upset the office.”

  “Hal, can you believe that my brother has become so responsible all of a sudden? And not just that—he’s not even going out at night! He’s not doing anything but working! This weekend is the first fun he’s had since … Well, since he came home.” Margaret smiled sweetly at David.

  “And fun it shall be,” David said briskly. “But right now I need to have a shower. Hal.” He nodded. “I’ll see you for lunch. Good-bye, darling.”

  David kissed his sister and glowered as he walked heavily up to his room.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Caitlin sat in her local laundromat and watched the spin cycle in the machine in front of her. She knew she should be using the time more wisely—reading something, listening to a podcast, generally trying to improve herself. Each week she spent time in this place and she usually didn’t just sit there, watching her clothes go around. But lately … lately sitting was all she’d wanted to do. Sitting gave her the opportunity to daydream.

  It was quiet in the laundromat in a way that the subway wasn’t—that so few parts of New York City were. She loved it here but it was nonstop, especially if you were the sort of person who wanted to make the most of things. If she’d stayed in San Diego her life would have been pleasant but it wouldn’t have been exciting. Southern California—the part she knew, that is—was great for “lifestyle” but not so much for life. Not for the life she wanted. New York had so much to offer. Any night of the week there were bands she wanted to see; every weekend there was an art gallery or museum she had yet to explore. There were bars and cafés and bookstores and movie houses. And even though she wasn’t nearly as wealthy as many of the city’s denizens, she could still enjoy it. Central Park was free, for one thing; a cup of coffee didn’t cost that much. Put the two together and you had a perfect Sunday afternoon. She felt as though she would never reach the end of the city’s possibilities because they were always changing and growing. She wanted her life to be like that, even if her job currently wasn’t. She had ambitions—to learn, to have experiences—but they weren’t the ambitions that she thought were allowed. For the people she knew it was okay to be ambitious about work: to want money and power. But she didn’t want those things. She wanted to have an interesting life, and she wanted to make it meaningful. Increasingly she wondered how she was going to do that writing feature stories, if she got that far, or editing other people’s copy, if she didn’t.

  So she sat there watching her laundry and thought about the life she wanted. Meeting David had opened a door to her—not by way of connections or changed circumstances, but ideas and aspirations. He was a person she never thought she’d ever meet; she’d thought his life was so far removed from hers that they would never intersect. But she saw now just how it had happened: she’d chosen to live in a certain part of the city and that had put her in that bar on that day; she’d made friends with Ingrid and that friendship had put her in the Hamptons on that weekend; she’d attracted Liam—the sort of guy she usually thought wouldn’t be interested in her because she didn’t come from the right sort of background—and that had made her realize that her prospects weren’t as limited as she’d thought.

  When she had bumped into David, then, she’d had a feeling of being in the right place at the right time because she was—fate may have played a hand in it but she’d dealt her own hand too. So now she wondered what other hands there were. If she couldn’t see David again, who else might she meet—who else might she be? While she was sad about not seeing David, she felt excited about her life. For the first time, properly. Not the small excitement—or so it seemed now—of moving from one city to another. It was a bigger excitement, of turning out to be the person she’d always wanted to be. She just had to stay true to that vision of the life she wanted: the interesting, meaningful life.

  Caitlin moved her wet clothes to the dryer and then sat down to wait some more. She picked up the tabloid magazine on the seat next to her, left by someone else. On the front cover there was a small photograph of David and his older sister, and the tagline, WHAT NOW FOR THE ROYAL FAMILY? David’s dark handsomeness gazed just off camera as his sister frowned beside him, her hair blowing in a long-gone breeze.

  Flipping to the story, Caitlin read about the King still being sick, about Alexandra assuming responsibilities and David providing support for her. Although the magazine wasn’t known for its accurate reporting, this fit with what she knew of him: he was caring and responsible. The whole situation seemed serious, though, and perhaps permanent. The Princess Royal was the acting monarch; the King might not recover fully. Suddenly the carefree bachelor prince seemed to have duties that he hadn’t bargained for. Or so the story said.

  It wasn’t as if Caitlin hadn’t read this story many times before. For the first week or so after it had broken, she had bought any newspaper and magazine that featured anything about it—to the point that Lisa remarked on all the extra stuff lying around the apartment and Caitlin had made up an excuse about doing some research for her boss on what features other periodicals were publishing—and she’d checked newspaper websites almost obsessively. After a few days, though, the story had petered out. What else was there to say? The King was unwell and no one could determine when or if he would be well again. The Princess Royal was now the Princess Regent and David and his younger sister were being seen in public with her on all the important occasions. Within a day he’d gone from being the mostly carefree young man who could hang out in a Manhattan bar with her without being noticed to someone who never cracked a smile
—or was never photographed cracking a smile. Every photograph Caitlin had seen showed David either frowning or with an otherwise serious expression.

  Now, several weeks on, there were very few stories and very few photographs in the American press. Caitlin still checked English newspapers online but she was starting to feel like a teenage stalker. Wasn’t it maudlin to keep trying to find out if the King was improving or dying, because that was the best indicator of what was happening in David’s life? At what point could she let this go? At what point should she let this go?

  Maybe now. Maybe this was the time. Maybe she should stop devoting so much brain space to a prince who, for one night, had paid her some attention and who she’d allowed to invade her thoughts. Her preoccupation with him in no way tallied with his behavior at the time or since. Because that’s what it was, really: a man had kissed her and she had talked herself into something more serious; instead, he’d behaved like so many other, more pedestrian, men and simply never contacted her again. The prince of the realm had turned out to be just a little bit like a cad. She shouldn’t be surprised—it wasn’t as if she hadn’t been aware of his love-’em-and-leave-’em reputation.

  Caitlin sighed and leaned forward to prop her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands. Twenty more minutes in the dryer should do it. Twenty more minutes but she didn’t want to daydream anymore.

  Her phone pinged with its text message noise and she had that momentary pulse in her chest that told her that she still really, truly hadn’t given up hope that David would contact her, despite what her rational brain told her. Shaking it off, Caitlin picked up her phone.

  Just finishing work, Liam wrote. Still on for dinner?

  Caitlin allowed herself a small smile. Liam had won her over in the end. He’d been persistent and finally she had realized that hanging on to the dream of David was not a good enough reason to keep denying Liam. So she saw him a couple of times a week. Dinner, a movie, a band, a walk—this was what they did. She hadn’t seen his apartment and he hadn’t seen hers, and she wanted to keep it that way … for now. She wanted to get to know him better before it became anything more than some dates. She wanted to observe him for a while, just to make sure he didn’t turn out to be like Matthew, whose actions still marked her.