by Aven Ellis
“Yes, of course,” I say.
Xander offers me his arm, and I reluctantly take it. He leads me down to the first row of seats in the box, sitting me down first, and then taking the seat next to me. He casually picks up his binoculars and scans the crowd.
“Don’t let Mum play with your head,” he says, lowering his voice. I realize he’s not actively looking at anything but acting like we are engaged in something else.
“Who is that girl?” I ask, hurt that Christian might have lied about his past. “Christian never mentioned any first loves to me.”
“Don’t be daft. Curry Takeaway has only loved you. That’s Mum’s revisionist history. Penelope and Christian shared a mutual interest in old bones, God knows why, but he never loved her. I think he loved talking about dinosaur crap with her more than anything else.”
Oh. I can see that.
“So … they dated?”
Xander puts his binoculars down. He shoots me a look.
“Yes. Didn’t you date when you were eighteen?” Xander asks pointedly.
I blink. “Well, yes.”
“Do you long for that bloke over Curry Takeaway?”
I can’t help but laugh.
“No. I prefer Curry Takeaway to all others.”
Xander grins. “Then I think you know what’s going on here. Mum is placing all her bets on Lady Penelope to woo my brother away from you. But here’s what she doesn’t know, or care to see: My brother is madly in love with you, Clementine. I’ve never seen him like this before. Christian is happy. He is finally coming out from behind the wall he’s thrown up his whole life. At first, I was pissed for him when Father refused to let him join the army after Cambridge because I know how fantastic being in the army is, but now I don’t think that’s what he needs.”
“No?”
Xander shakes his head. “He’s starting to find himself now. I found my purpose in the service, but I think for Christian, it would be another place to hide. But he’s not hiding now. In fact, I think he’s damn ballsy to come out in public with you. I wouldn’t do it, and I’m much more comfortable with the media than Christian is. But he’s doing it for you because he sees you with him in the end, not Penelope. He loves you. And I think he’s going to find his purpose with you by his side, Clementine.”
He picks up his binoculars and goes back to looking at the track. I’m touched by how much Xander cares about Christian. I see so much of King Arthur in Xander, and despite his questionable reputation, I see potential for him to be a great king someday. Xander is aware of how people feel. He knows how Christian feels inside, and despite barely knowing me, he could see how I was feeling a few minutes ago by reading my face. That’s a gift that will serve him well as a representative for the United Kingdom in the future.
“Xander?”
He puts the binoculars down and looks at me, his dark blue eyes fixed on mine.
“You are an exceptional man,” I say softly. “Thank you for talking to me.”
Xander blinks. I think he’s not used to people calling him anything other than a philanderer or playboy prince. His face reflects genuine surprise at the compliment, and I don’t think he knows what to do with it.
“I’m exceptional in the army and with ladies; those are my specialties,” he says, giving me a charming smile. “Speaking of which,” he says, handing me his binoculars, “check out the young lady with the tea service set on her hat. She’s rather hot, but I don’t know if I can do someone who has a pot, cups, and saucers on her head.”
I burst out laughing. “You are making that up.”
“Listen, I know you only have eyes for Curry Takeaway, but you have noticed the rather ridiculous hats in play today, haven’t you?”
I pick up the binoculars and follow Xander’s directions to find the woman he’s speaking of. She’s a stunning blonde, and indeed, has an entire tea service replicated on the top of her head.
“Oh, wow, you weren’t lying,” I declare.
“Of course I wasn’t.”
“Well,” I say helpfully, “she wouldn’t wear the hat in bed, would she?”
“I could probably work around it if she did.”
I look at him, and he’s grinning wickedly at me.
Then we both burst out laughing.
“Do I even want to know?”
I smile as Christian takes the seat next to me, betting slips in hand.
“Of course you don’t,” Xander says, winking at me.
Christian sighs heavily and places his hand over mine. I gaze up at him and see his eyes are once again filled with regret.
“You have no idea,” he says softly, “how sorry I am about that.”
“About what?” I say easily. “I know you’ve had other girlfriends.”
“Yeah, well, I wasn’t expecting her to appear out of thin air during your introduction to Ascot. I’m sorry.”
“Did you invite her without telling me?”
Christian furrows his brow. “Of course not.”
“Then quit apologizing.”
“This one’s a keeper, Curry Takeaway,” Xander chimes in. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I think it’s time for me to place my bets.”
Xander gets up and excuses himself, and I turn back to Christian.
“He’s right, you know,” he says.
“About what?”
“You’re a keeper. And I do intend to keep you. Forever.”
Christian releases my hand and gives me the betting slip for our horse, Wait no More.
Wait no More is right.
We aren’t waiting anymore to live our lives.
We are living now.
In public.
As a couple.
And no matter what is thrown our way, I know we’ll handle it.
Chapter 27
Finding Purpose
I’m everywhere.
I stare at my phone in shock as Google returns article after article on my appearance at Ascot today, with pictures of me smiling next to Christian, chatting with Victoria, and sitting with Xander in the royal box.
“What are you looking at?” Christian asks as we leave Windsor in his Audi, his security team following behind us in the Range Rover.
“It sounds egotistical to answer you truthfully, but I will. Myself.”
“Don’t believe all your press, Ace,” Christian teases.
I laugh. “Oh, believe me, I won’t, but I can’t help but look at it. So far, the media seems to approve of my choice to wear a British designer for Ascot.”
“Read me the headlines.”
“Oh, God, it’s like hearing yourself speak on video: cringeworthy.”
“Go on.”
I clear my throat. “Fresh Air for the Royals! Clemmie Wows in Candy Floss Pink.”
“I agree with that. Give me some more.”
“Wait a second. What’s candy floss?”
“You don’t know what candy floss is?”
“No,” I say, shaking my head.
“Spun sugar. You know, the candy that dissolves in your mouth?”
“Oh! Cotton candy!” I say. “That’s what we call it in America.”
“Cotton candy is a terrible name. UK one, USA zero. Now read me another one.”
I chuckle. “I had no idea you were so passionate about what cotton candy is called.”
“I’m full of secrets for you to unlock,” he says dryly.
I grin and go back to skimming article headlines. “Here’s one. True Love? Prince Christian Invites His American Love to Ascot.”
“Brilliant, so far they are factual for a change,” Christian says, smiling as he drives.
Warmth rushes over me, and I read a few more for his entertainment. “Betting on Love! Prince Christian Spends Ladies’ Day With his Lady Love. Oh, I like that one.”
“Me, too.”
“So far, very positive,” I say, dropping my phone back into my bag.
“Clementine, remember they will turn on you. Not if, but when. My adv
ice is to not read any of them, not that I’m telling you what to do. It’s merely a suggestion, from someone who has been labeled a hoarder and will forever be called Curry Takeaway by his extremely annoying older brother.”
My heart melts. Our mini argument last night has obviously stayed with him, so he’s treading lightly.
“I know you’re right. Xander will call you Curry Takeaway for the rest of your life.”
He chuckles, and I reach over and play with the curls at the nape of his neck.
“Shall I make you spag bol tonight? For you and Jillian, if she’s around?”
“That would be lovely,” I say. “Jillian was so helpful yesterday; it would be a wonderful gesture to show her how much we appreciate her kindness.”
“Brilliant. We’ll stop and get the shopping before heading home.”
Get the shopping. There are so many British terms I’m going to have to get used to.
“Good. I need to do that anyway, and I have to get a crapton of bacon for butties.”
“You seem to be acclimatizing quite well.”
“The bacon butty was almost as life-changing as falling in love with some bloke I met online,” I tease.
“I’m relieved to hear I edged out the bacon butty,” Christian quips.
I laugh. “Just barely. Better stay on your toes, Your Royal Highness.”
He smiles, and I have no doubt his eyes are dancing behind those sexy aviator shades he has on.
“I intend to, Fiona,” he says. “And I’ll start by making you and Jillian a fabulous dinner tonight.”
“Are you sure I can’t help?” Jillian calls out to Christian in the kitchen.
“No, no, I’m good,” Christian says as he stirs a pot on the stove. “You and Clementine enjoy your wine while I make the sauce.”
Jillian turns back toward me and lifts an eyebrow. “I haven’t lost my mind, right? The Prince of Wales is in the kitchen making me dinner?”
I grin as I ruffle Bear’s head. “Nope. Christian does the shopping and the cooking. You should see the masterful way he whips through a grocery store. The man has purpose when he shops.”
“I love doing the shopping,” Christian says from the kitchen. “I did it for all my flatmates back at Cambridge.”
“A prince who does his own shopping. I pay to have the shopping delivered because I hate that task so much. So if you don’t propose to him by the time the dishes are cleared, I will,” Jillian jokes.
I glance at Christian, who is blushing from Jillian’s teasing.
“He’s so cute when he gets embarrassed,” I say, piling on. “Look at him blush.”
“Stop,” Christian says, turning a deeper pink hue as he throws some spaghetti in a pot of boiling water. “Or I’ll start calling you Clemmie like the media does.”
I groan. “Clemmie. Ugh.”
Christian laughs. I swear his chuckle is my favorite sound in the entire world.
“You had tremendous press coverage today,” Jillian says, pausing to take a sip of her wine. “All favorable, of course. Oh, and your dress? Sold out in minutes after it was tagged as the dress worn by Captivating Clementine. That designer should be sending you ‘thank you’ flowers tomorrow. You put her on the map today.”
“Are you serious?” I ask. “I didn’t get that far in my scrolling.”
“She loves reading press about herself,” Christian says.
“I do not, you liar. I was curious. This was my first introduction to the royal family, so this is different. I wanted to see how I went over.”
“I told her they will love her at first but then look for a reason to kick her down,” Christian says.
“Sounds like you are speaking from experience,” Jillian says, tucking her feet up underneath her in her chair.
Christian pops some garlic bread into the oven. “Yes,” he says simply. “I was criticized for hiding at Cambridge. Now that I’ve been forbidden from entering the military for a year, I’ll be criticized for not doing my military service. You can’t win.”
“Well, not with them, but you can win with yourself and with your citizens with your support of causes,” Jillian says.
“That’s what I’m trying to sort out,” Christian says, leaning against the countertop and staring at Jillian. “I want to find my purpose, my vision. On Monday, I’m filling in for Mum at a ballet school in Birmingham with a visit and meeting with school administration. She’s a patron of the Birmingham Ballet, and it’s important to support the arts, which is her cause, but I want to find my causes, where I can make a difference. There are so many great charities I can support, but I want to think of things that speak to me and Clementine.”
“You don’t have to decide them all this week,” I say gently.
He rubs his hand over his jaw and lets out a sigh. “I know, but I don’t want people to see me working only as a fill-in for the king and queen. I want them to see, if I must put off the military for a year, my time will be spent championing my own causes. I won’t be sitting around living off the taxpayers’ money, waiting for my time to go. I want to do good things.”
“I don’t have any doubt that you will,” Jillian says firmly. “You are already thinking this through and taking it seriously. No matter what charity you choose, people will be interested. You’ve been a mystery to the world, and now you are finally letting us see who you are, starting with sharing Clementine with us.”
A smile lights up his face, and my heart dances inside my chest.
“He loves paleontology,” I say, watching Christian. “I think promoting science with children would be a great start, or animal conservation.”
“Oh, yes,” Jillian says, nodding in agreement.
“My family typically becomes patrons of loads of charities,” Christian says, turning the flame under the pasta pot off and reaching for some mitts. He picks up the pot and dumps the water into the colander in the sink, getting a steam bath in the process.
He continues as he shakes the excess water from the spaghetti. “I think I want to be concentrated, though. Start with a few, eventually add more, like things I want to do with Xander and James, perhaps, and Clementine in the future, but still keep it limited so I can throw all my energy behind them, you know?”
“I think that’s smart,” I say, proud of how much thought he has put into his new role. “And the causes you support will be grateful for your efforts.”
“I hope so,” Christian says, opening the oven and removing the garlic bread. “Now ladies, if you will adjourn to the dining room, I’ll bring dinner in.”
Jillian shoots me a look. “You do need to propose to him if he breaks out dessert.”
I laugh and take my seat, and Jillian sits down across from me. Bear follows us and drops his head in Jillian’s lap.
“I think Bear has made himself a new friend,” I say, smiling at her.
“Oh, he’s just a big teddy bear,” Jillian says, affectionately rubbing his head. “I took him for a walk this morning in Kensington Gardens, and it was lovely. You’re good company, Mr. Bear.”
“He’s my big boy,” I say. “I got him last year from a rescue group. The owner had to move and didn’t want to take him. I couldn’t imagine not taking him.”
“I’ve loved all my animals; that’s one of the things I missed after my last one passed. George was just diagnosed with his illness, and I knew I couldn’t bring a new dog into the home,” Jillian says matter-of-factly.
Christian enters the room and places a plate in front of Jillian and then me.
“This looks delicious,” I say, excited to eat his spag bol again.
“It smells heavenly,” Jillian adds. “Thank you, Christian.”
“You’re very welcome,” Christian says, returning to the kitchen to retrieve his own wine glass and plate.
He comes back and takes a seat next to me.
“Before we start, I’d like to propose a toast,” Jillian says, raising her glass. “To new friends and a home filled with conver
sation and laughter and two young people in love. Your presence has been a blessing to me.”
Tears prick my eyes at Jillian’s heartfelt words.
We clink our glasses together and take a drink.
“Jillian, if you don’t mind me asking, what made you participate in the roommate match program?” Christian asks as he picks up his fork. “I feel like Clementine and I are the lucky ones, to be matched with you. I’m curious as to how you became involved with it.”
“The simple answer? I was tired of being lonely,” Jillian says, pausing to take a bite of her pasta. Her eyes widen as she samples it. “Oh, this is fantastic. You actually can cook!”
Christian laughs. “I learned a few tricks from the chef at Buckingham Palace. So, it better be good.”
“Well, he or she did you a great service. I can see why Clementine was craving this,” Jillian says. Then she clears her throat. “Back to your question. When George was first diagnosed, our friends didn’t know how to respond. A lot of them were uncomfortable. They couldn’t handle it, especially when George began to show symptoms. He had problems following conversations. He was anxious doing social things he used to love, like dinner parties. Gradually, he reached the middle-stage, and he became delusional. He would constantly wring his hands and sleep during the day and be up all night.”
“My God, Jillian, I’m so sorry,” I say, a lump forming in my throat. I can’t imagine watching the man you love disappear in front of your eyes and having no family and friends to turn to for support.
“I would do it all over again for the years we had together,” Jillian says quietly. “But when all was said and done, I had lost many of my friends, either from them being uncomfortable with George, or from me not being able to leave him. I was his caregiver. I would occasionally hire someone to help if I needed to run errands or go to a doctor, but I lost myself in taking care of him. And when he passed, I felt like my world had gone dark. Not only did I lose George, but I lost my purpose. I was so alone.
“It took me a long time to get out of that depression, that black period of my life,” Jillian continues. “My friends had moved on, and rightfully so. I had a very lonely existence. I had spent the end of George’s life giving him round-the-clock care, and George was no longer George. After he passed, everything I held in came out, and I fell apart. I knew George would want me to find a life again, but I didn’t know how. It seemed overwhelming.”
