by Janet Gover
‘Are you all right?’
She nodded, too winded to speak.
‘Run as fast as you can. I’ll be right here with you.’
Lauren ran. The driving rain filled her eyes, blurring her vision. The wind threatened to topple her at every step. But she wasn’t afraid. She could hear Nicolas at her side.
They were almost at the bottom of the grand staircase when the front doors were thrown open. Thomas Lawry emerged from the house. He caught Lauren halfway up the stairs and almost carried her the rest of the way. Nicolas followed him and slammed the big doors shut. After the violence of the storm the house seemed very quiet, except for sound of two people gasping with exertion.
‘Lauren, are you all right?’ Nicolas was the first to catch his breath.
‘I’m fine,’ she gasped back. Then she shivered.
‘You’re cold.’ Nicolas’s voice was thick with concern. ‘You need a hot bath. Thomas, find the housekeeper.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Lawry vanished down the hallway.
‘Come on. Upstairs.’ Nicolas had his arm around her shoulders.
‘Nick … I …’ Lauren didn’t want to go.
‘Don’t make me carry you,’ Nicolas replied, then chuckled at the look on her face. He put his arms around her shoulders and guided her firmly up the stairs.
The housekeeper had arrived at Lauren’s room before them. The door was open, and as they entered they could hear the sound of a running tap in the bathroom. A couple of large towels lay on the bed.
‘I’ll leave you to it,’ Nicolas said. ‘I need to dry off too.’
Lauren put a hand out, as if to stop him leaving.
He stepped close and spoke softly. ‘Later, my love.’ His eyes held hers for a few seconds; then he turned and left the room, closing the door gently behind him.
The bath was deep and warm, covered with a thick layer of bubbles and faintly scented with flowers. Lauren lay back with her eyes closed, luxuriating in the soft warmth. She moved her arms gently, enjoying the soft caress of the water as it moved over her skin. Her whole body tingled with the warmth and the softness and the anticipation.
Tonight.
Her whole life had been leading to this moment. To this man whom she loved with her heart and her soul and … soon … her body.
How her world had changed in such a short time. Only a few weeks ago she had looked at press reports of Nicolas’s conquests and despised him for his licentious behaviour and his arrogance. Now she knew better. She knew how the media could distort the most innocent facts. Nick was not the man they portrayed, any more than she was the woman they had hounded. Tonight, all that was in the past. The future was what mattered, and that tiny spark of hope was now a deep certainty that she and Nicolas would be together.
At last Lauren opened her eyes. A bath could only last so long! There was no reason to hurry, but nor did she want to linger too long. He would be waiting. Lauren stepped out of the bath and wrapped herself in a large soft white towel. She stepped forward and looked at herself in the mirror. She was almost surprised to see that she looked exactly as she had that morning. There was nothing in her face to show the momentous change that had taken place in her life since then.
Lauren ran her fingers through her damp hair. It was still multi-coloured. Things had happened so fast since her appearance at the hairdressing competition, she hadn’t even thought about changing it. Well, it was time she did. Perhaps she might return to her natural blonde. But Nick had liked the blue. She hugged that memory to herself as she went in search of dry clothes in the bedroom she’d been using for the past week.
Lauren sifted through the big chest of drawers, wishing the underwear she had put there was sexy, not simply clean and serviceable. She had never been big on lacy underwear but that was probably about to change. The big cupboard, she knew, was almost empty. She hadn’t had time to think about clothes when she hastily packed in her flat. Most of the stuff she’d brought was for painting. Jeans and T-shirts in various states of paint-spattered disrepair. Most – but not all.
Lauren took her bag out of the closet. She remembered throwing in … There it was. She pulled a short black skirt and a red silk top from the bag and shook them out. As outfits went, it wasn’t exactly sexy, but it was the best she had. And compared to some of the outfits Nick had seen her in, it wouldn’t look too bad. Well, not if it was ironed.
Lauren threw on some jeans and a T-shirt. Tucking the skirt and blouse under her arms, she set off in search of the housekeeper. Lauren knew she could simply call someone else to iron the outfit for her. But she didn’t feel comfortable doing that. Quite apart from that, this night was going to be special. She wanted to make the effort herself.
Lauren headed in the general direction of the kitchen which she had scouted out late one night when working late had given her an appetite. She trotted down a narrow staircase and into a hallway, turning towards the rear of the house. Voices were coming from a door to her left. Thinking this might be the place to find the housekeeper, Lauren tapped on the door and entered.
As expected, Lauren found herself in a staff sitting room. Three young women, presumably maids or kitchen staff, were watching a large television set.
‘Miss Phelps!’ One of the girls leaped to her feet. ‘Can I help you?’ She signalled to one of her companions to turn off the television. The girl got to her feet immediately, but before she could hit the button, a name caught Lauren’s attention.
‘… Lauren Phelps, the artist commissioned to paint the prince’s portrait.’
With a sudden horrible feeling of déjà vu, Lauren looked at the screen. The speaker was a host she had seen before.
‘Now, it seems that despite earlier palace denials, she is doing more than just painting Naughty Nick. These pictures were posted on the internet about an hour ago.’
The screen changed. The almost leering smile of the presenter was replaced with a woodland scene. Two figures embraced in a clearing.
‘No.’ Lauren collapsed into the nearest chair, her eyes glued to the screen.
A second image followed. Then a third. The photographer had zoomed in and there was no doubting the intent of either of the two people in that image. Lauren’s heart was pounding as if she had run a marathon. She wanted to just sink into the couch and hide.
‘… just hours after attending the cathedral service to give thanks for Queen Charlotte’s escape from the London blast, her youngest son was back to his old tricks …’
Lauren was dimly aware of the sound of people leaving the room. Leaving her alone with her humiliation.
‘New information has come to light about Lauren. Before attending art school, she worked as a waitress. She grew up in …’
The door behind her opened. Nicolas crossed the room in a few strides and hit the television controls. The screen faded to black, leaving a shocked silence.
‘I am so sorry.’ He sat down beside her.
Lauren shook her head slowly. ‘They took something that was … important to me and made it cheap.’
‘I know. If I could stop them, I would. But I can’t.’
Lauren expected to feel angry. Or even afraid. But she wasn’t. Not any longer.
‘I know that. But I also know that I don’t want to live like this.’
‘Lauren, if we came out. Went public with our relationship …’
‘It would get worse. I could live with that. But I’m not thinking about me.’
His forehead creased. He was holding her hands tightly and Lauren’s heart broke as she realised what she had to do. She struggled to find the right words.
‘There’s a lot about me you don’t know.’
‘I don’t care about …’
‘Please. Nick. Just let me tell you this. My mother raised me by herself. It wasn’t easy being a single mother, but she worked two jobs to pay for me to get to art school.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with that.’
‘No, there’s not. I am so prou
d of her. But my father. That’s a different story. I’ve only ever seen him once. When I was at school.’
The images she had tried so hard to forget began to form in Lauren’s head again. She stared blankly at the dark television screen, not wanting to see the look on Nick’s face as he learned the truth about her.
‘It’s a good thing that he and my mother weren’t married. He was sent to jail before I was born. He was a thief, breaking into houses and stealing anything of value. The last time there was someone home. My father beat that woman. He almost killed her. And when they finally caught him, he was imprisoned for ten years. That time.’
‘Lauren …’
‘When he got out, he found us.’ She spoke quickly. If she stopped now she would never finish this. And Nick had to know everything. ‘When I got home from school, I found Mum. He had beaten her too and taken her money and her car. I called the police. When they caught him, he was sent back to prison. For a very long time we lived in fear that he would be released, or escape and come back again.’
‘Lauren, you don’t have to be afraid. I can protect you and your mother.’
‘I’m not afraid. He’s going to be in prison for a very long time.’
Nicolas squeezed her hands. ‘I am sorry.’
‘I’m not. That’s a horrible thing to say, isn’t it? But I’m not sorry at all. He was a stranger to me and all I cared about was that my mother was safe.’
Lauren took a deep breath. The words had come more easily than she’d expected, because she knew Nick would understand. But she wasn’t so sure he would understand, or accept, what she was about to say. She risked a quick glance at his face – so filled with love and concern. She looked away again before her resolve broke.
‘I’m leaving, Nick.’
‘What do you mean … leaving?’
‘I can’t do this. I can’t be part of your life.’
‘No. Don’t think that. You are not responsible for who your father was. You are not responsible for what he did.’
‘I know that. But if I stay, the media will find all this. They’ll drag it back all over the front pages.’
Nicolas didn’t try to deny it. ‘I know you don’t want to hurt your mother, but …’
He stopped speaking as Lauren shook her head. ‘It’s not my mother I am thinking of. Or me. We’ve lived with this all our lives. It’s you and your family.’
‘We can …’
‘No. You can’t.’ At last Lauren could face him; her resolve was firm. Nothing, not even the pain she saw in Nick’s face, would dissuade her now. ‘That night when the bomb went off and in the days after, I loved you so much for your bravery. You did what was right for your family. For your country. Your mother did too, despite her injures and despite her fear for Edouard. I admire her so much. I can’t drag her and you and all your family into this. I’m not right for you. I don’t belong here. I have to go.’
‘You are right for me. I love you, Lauren. You must know that.’
‘You can’t love me. You are a prince and doing your duty is one of the things I love about you. I won’t hurt you or your family, Nick. I won’t do it.’
Her heart was breaking. She reached out to place the palm of her hand on his cheek and look one final time at his face. Those brilliant blue eyes were bright with something very like tears. She loved him even more at that moment than she had ever thought possible.
‘Don’t try to stop me. Please. I’m not as strong as you. If I don’t leave now …’ She got to her feet. ‘The painting is finished. It’s yours. Do whatever you want with it. I have to go.’ The pain grew stronger with every second she stood there, watching the confusion on his face. Lauren turned and ran from the room.
She ran up the stairs, fighting back the tears every step of the way. Don’t start crying. Just don’t, she told herself. Wait until you are safely home. Just hold on for a little bit longer. Once back in her room, she gathered her belongings. In just a few minutes everything was back inside her small bag. The clothes the housekeeper had taken to dry could stay. She didn’t care. She just had to get out.
She was sitting on the bed, doing up some sandals, the only other footwear she possessed, when she became aware that Nick was standing in the open doorway. In his hands he held the skirt and blouse she had dropped, unnoticed, in the staff room. He came into the room and held them out.
‘Thank you.’ Lauren took them from his outstretched hands. Their eyes met for a second.
‘Is there anything I can say or do that will make you stay?’
Lauren thought she might well die of the pain coursing through her. ‘Can you change the life you were born into?’
‘No.’
‘Nor can I.’
Lauren picked up her bag. She moved to stand in front of him, and looked long and hard at his face, trying to burn it into her memory for the years ahead. ‘I am sorry.’ She stepped past him into the hallway. ‘Will you arrange a car for me please,’ she said without turning around.
‘Yes.’
‘Thank you.’ Lauren walked rapidly towards the stairs.
* * *
Nicolas stood staring at the open door, trying to understand why his world had come crashing down around him. He crossed the hallway to his own suite and picked up the phone.
‘Thomas,’ he said when he heard the familiar answer. ‘Please take Miss Phelps home, or anywhere else she wants to go.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Years of practice allowed Thomas to keep the surprise out of his voice. Or did the whole staff already know what was happening?
‘It’s quite likely the paparazzi will be looking for Miss Phelps. They will be coming here.’
‘I will talk to security, sir.’
‘Just make sure she gets safely away. And be sure there’s no problem outside her flat.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Nicolas hung up. There was nothing else he could do for her.
He walked to the window, which overlooked the driveway. In the distance, he could see the wooded copse where just a short time ago he had known such joy. His life had stretched before him full of wonderment. Now it had all turned to dust. A few minutes passed and then a big black sedan moved slowly down the drive. He couldn’t bear to watch her go.
Nicolas left his room, his steps taking him towards Lauren’s studio. Even when she wasn’t there, her studio always seemed filled with her essence. It was her sanctuary, just as this estate had always been his. Perhaps he would find some comfort there. He reached out to open the door then paused. The portrait was finished. He couldn’t bring himself to look at it. He didn’t want to look into the face of a man who was a coward.
He would go back to the city. His sanctuary was lost to him.
Chapter Fourteen
‘Here’s the rest, Lauren.’
The voice startled her. The soapy saucepan in her hands dropped back into the sink with an almighty splash that sent water all down the front of her clothes.
‘Damn,’ Lauren cursed under her breath as she brushed her shirt in a futile gesture.
‘I’m sorry.’ Else placed a pile of dirty plates on the bench. She hunched one shoulder, as if expecting to be hit. ‘I didn’t mean to …’
Lauren was immediately contrite. The last thing this poor battered woman needed was Lauren adding to her guilt and fear. ‘It’s fine, Else. Honestly. It wasn’t your fault. I was just daydreaming.’
‘About him, I bet.’ Else relaxed and grinned at her.
Lauren didn’t bother to deny it. Else wouldn’t believe her if she did – and it would be a lie. She had been thinking about Nick. It seemed she could think about little else these days.
‘He was such a nice person,’ Else enthused on her favourite topic. ‘Imagine, a prince coming here to St Benedict’s. Talking to the likes of me. And he is so handsome. And you painted him. Will we ever get to see the painting, Lauren?’
‘I don’t know,’ Lauren replied. ‘I imagine the curator of the royal collection has it. He�
��ll decide what to do.’ One day, perhaps, Lauren might try to find out just what had been done with her best piece of work. But not yet. She wasn’t ready for that.
‘OK.’ Else didn’t seem convinced. ‘Anyway,’ she added brightly, ‘it’s good to have you back. We missed you while you were away.’
‘I missed you all too,’ Lauren said. ‘Especially little Claudette. How is she?’
Else glanced over to where her daughter was playing with another child. ‘Pastor Josef says he knows a place where we can both go. To get away from him.’ The catch in Else’s voice made Lauren want to hug her, wet hands and all. But she didn’t. Else didn’t like to be touched.
‘Are you going to leave him?’ She didn’t want to push. She knew how hard it sometimes was to take a step that seemed so easy to others.
‘I want to. I’m afraid he’s going to hurt Claudette.’
‘She would be better off with no father, than one who hurts you and her.’ The intensity in her voice startled even Lauren.
‘Lauren’s right.’ Josef walked through the kitchen door. ‘And we are here to help, you know that.’
‘Thank you.’
Josef and Lauren watched as Else collected her daughter and slipped out through the front door.
‘I hope she doesn’t leave it too long,’ Josef said softly as he carefully placed the boxes he was carrying on the kitchen bench.
‘Need some help?’ Lauren asked.
‘Always.’
Together they returned to the storeroom to fetch more boxes of supplies for the kitchen. The storeroom was quite large, but there wasn’t much room left. Brown cardboard cartons were piled high against all the walls. A few boxes lay on the floor, the tops open where someone had been checking the contents. The most common item was food, but there were also supplies of other daily needs – everything from detergent to toilet paper as well as personal items – which would be given to those who needed them.
