by Rachel Astor
Even in my somewhat skimpy attire, I began to sweat. Good God, what had I gotten myself into?
There was still a good hour and a half before dinner would be served, and the Cappuccino had temporarily filled the void in my stomach, so, not wanting to think about how in over my head I could be, I decided to go exploring. Maybe I could get a handle on the Prince by discovering what he loved to surround himself with.
First of all, it was interesting that he chose to live in the country at all, since he was famous for taking in London’s nightlife on a regular basis, but maybe he was in a similar situation to Jake and just needed to get away from it all, live a private life most of the time.
Lord knew I could certainly relate after my crazy temporary fame as a bridesmaid for the celebrity wedding of the year back home.
I was about to head out of my suite to check out the castle when I realized if I didn’t do something to distinguish my room from all the rest of the doors that looked exactly the same in this hall, I would really be screwed. But it had to be something that would be kind of permanent—I could just see a cleaning person taking off a ribbon I’d so carefully put there, or something—no, I needed something with more staying power.
It hit me, and I couldn’t believe how ingenious it was. My black light nail polish. In most light, it looked almost clear, but as soon as a black light hit it, it glowed. And since I had a little black light flashlight on my keychain, it would be perfect. I fished the polish and light out of my suitcase and went to work with a smiley face on the doorknob. I’d have to just simply take it off with polish remover before I left in three months, and no one would ever know the difference. And they’d think I was oh so smart, never having to ask my way around the castle. As long as I could find the right hallway, I’d be set.
Of course, that in itself was a big if.
The castle was even more amazing once I really got looking. I gaped at the sheer size of it of course, but also at all the stuff in it. I couldn’t imagine how one would even go about decorating a place so big, let alone filling every room, but filled they were. Bedroom after bedroom of immaculately made beds, each one more charming than the last. I knew because I started opening all the doors, listening first, to make sure no one was inside, but Miranda did tell me I had full access to the house, so I figured why not? It was, after all, the best way to get to know the Prince. Although, when I walked into a bedroom that had an older gentleman taking a nap on top of a delicate yellow flowered bedspread, I quickly decided to abandon that idea. Thank God I hadn’t woken him. Now that would have been embarrassing.
It didn’t take as long as I thought to get through the section of the house where my room was, and since I was afraid I might get lost if I explored too much further to the other wings, I thought I might head outside to see what kind of cars the Prince might have in the garage. You can always tell a man by his toys, right? Not that I knew the slightest thing about cars, but at least I could see if he preferred sports cars or off-roading.
I could not have been more shocked at what I found out in the seven car garage. Inside, it looked almost more like a stable than a garage, and I half expected a horse to come strolling alongside me. It didn’t smell like a stable though, and in each of the “stalls” a car was parked. Most of them were just regular cars you would see on the street anywhere, with two exceptions. A black Hummer, the original kind, like the army uses, and a little silver Aston Martin. I know, I know, I wouldn’t normally know an Aston Martin if it came up and bit me on the butt, but I could read what the insignia said. At least I knew enough to know that an Aston Martin is a very nice, very expensive car.
I was even more delighted to see that the last stall housed several bicycles. I couldn’t imagine anything more delightful that a lovely bike ride in the English countryside. I checked my watch. Forty-five minutes left before I had to be back in for supper.
Which seemed like the perfect amount of time for a leisurely bike ride to me.
I picked the cutest one, of course, a bike that matched perfectly with my sundress. It was baby blue and old fashioned, though in mint condition, and had a big basket in the front. I could just imagine myself riding along, my basket full of fresh flowers, produce and bread just baked from the quaint bakery in town. I mean, I had no idea if there even was a bakery in town, or if there even was a town anywhere remotely within biking distance, but I spent a good five minutes daydreaming about all the trips I might make anyway.
Finally, I was on my way out of the garage and down a cute little path that led away from the castle and back into the trees. The sun bathed the trail in sparkles of light that moved and danced through the leaves with a whisper of the wind. I closed my eyes for a moment to soak in the perfection of it all.
The trees ended abruptly, leading to another clearing filled with rolling hills and the biggest garden I had ever seen. I was born and raised in the city, so it’s not like I’d had much chance to check out too many gardens, but I swear, this thing was bigger than anything I’d even seen on TV. Flowers and vegetables grew healthy and vibrant against the bluest sky along with green hills in the background. It was a strange place for the flowers, stuck in the back of the garden behind the veggies, almost like an afterthought, though there seemed to be hundreds, if not thousands of them. I could only assume this is where the majority of the gorgeous fresh-cut flowers in the castle came from, probably on a daily basis.
A couple of people were working away in the garden and when they turned to look, I waved and smiled.
And the real miracle of it, was that they smiled and waved back.
Hallelujah! Not everyone who worked here was as snooty as Miranda.
The trail kept going past the long garden and led up a short hill. I, being ever-so-curious, decided I’d just take a peek over the hill to see what was past it, then I’d head back and get ready for dinner, hoping I might finally meet Prince Leo.
Apparently the jet lag had hit me a little harder than I’d thought though. Either that or the long bubble bath had relaxed my muscles into submission or something, because just as I was about to crest the hill, they decided to give out on me. Well okay, not totally, but there was no way in you-know-where that I was going to finish making it over that hill. And I was so close too.
So close, in fact, that I just had to try to take those last couple steps, which led to possibly my most horrific entry in the Disaster Diary to date.
Dear Disaster Diary,
Oh. My. God!
It’s happened. I hereby have an entry, which might be the most horrifying that you have ever witnessed. I’m fairly certain my face is still red, even after the excruciatingly long and painful walk back to the castle.
Oh, what happened to the bike you might ask? Well, funny story. At least it might be… a long time from now when I look back on all this. A very, very long time from now.
As I tried to climb those last few steps up the hill, I, for some reason—known only to the gods of stupidity—decided not to get off the bike. No, I tried to climb the hill while straddled over the lovely baby blue contraption. Still, there shouldn’t have been too much of a problem except for one tiny detail. The soles of my ballet flats were made from a smooth material. A very slippery, stiff, smooth material.
As I lifted my right leg to take a step, my left shoe began to give way, sending me sliding slightly backward down the hill. Of course the shoes had absolutely no traction, so as I flailed my legs, searching for a grip, I began to pick up speed…
…and then I was falling, tumbling head over butt, still attached to the bike, which was tumbling right along with me. I honestly don’t know if I made one complete rotation, or if it was more than that, it all happened so fast. Eventually I came rocking to a stop, somehow miraculously uninjured.
Well, except for my pride.
And it might not have even been all that bad, you know, I could have lived with a gardener or two seeing it or whatever, but I have to say, it was not my best angle for the person who
came over the hill just in time to witness the spectacle.
That’s right; Prince Leo crested that same damned hill at the exact moment of my tumble into humiliation.
Oh, he was a gentleman of course, concerned for my safety and all that, but I couldn’t really fully appreciate how he helped me up and took my bike, holding it in one hand while he led his horse with the other and walked me all the way back to the castle, even promising to put my bike away for me because all I wanted to do was cry. And it turned out I was a little hurt after all.
My elbow must have gotten caught between the handlebars and the ground or something, because it was already starting to swell.
Oh sure, the Prince was great and kind and even had a little chuckle, so maybe I shouldn’t be so devastated, but let’s face it, you never get a second chance to make a first impression.
And my first impression on poor Prince Leo had been my butt, sailing through the air.
I was a mess.
After taking several wrong turns to find my room, I eventually surveyed myself in the full-length mirror. The bubble bath had effectively been undone due to my unexpected trip down the English countryside. God, every time the vision popped back into my head, I wanted to die all over again. And it had been pretty much popping in nonstop since it happened.
My dress didn’t seem to be ripped anywhere, which was a bit of a miracle, but it was so dirty you could barely even tell what color it was anymore. And my hair was indescribable, tangling every which way, with bits of grass chunked in there.
There was certainly no way I could go down to dinner looking the way I was.
And I was already late.
Prince Leo told me not to rush, to take my time getting ready and come on down whenever, but I could only imagine what Miranda was going to do once she found out. I was, after all, an employee of the Prince, and I had a strong feeling that Miranda was the one to manage the employees in whatever way she saw fit.
But still, there was no way I could possibly go down there looking like I did. Who knew what Miranda might think then?
I jumped in the shower and cleaned off as quickly as I could, carefully scrubbing the dirt from my hair and fingernails, and throwing on a robe. I was really starting to wish I’d unpacked earlier, since everything was still totally suitcase wrinkled, and there wasn’t any time to use the handy little travel steamer that was stored in the linen closet. That’s right, my suite had its own linen closet, filled to the brim with soft, impossibly fluffy towels.
I managed to find a fairly unwrinkled t-shirt and a crinkly skirt that was supposed to be wrinkly, threw them on and turned to the makeup mirror.
Ugh. Things were still not looking good. My elbow was really starting to swell, so I rushed to find a sweater, hoping to cover it up. I’d have to go through the bathroom later to see if there was a tensor bandage or something to help bring the swelling down overnight.
I applied the barest minimum of makeup as quickly as I could, being careful not to end up looking like a clown, or worse, like I’d just been tumbling down a hill. Yeesh. The hair was another story all together. I piled it up on top of my head and styled it as best I could, hoping the Prince didn’t mind the natural, messy look. And if I were being honest, I was almost as worried about Miranda’s reaction as I was the Prince’s. She was the one who was both capable, and probably more than happy, to make my life here at the castle as miserable as possible.
~ 4 ~
It was impossible not to stare at Prince Leo. Something about him just oozed charm, like he was growing it from somewhere within. He had the absolute most perfect skin, it was hard to believe he even shaved, and I always was a sucker for blue eyes. Especially blue eyes like his, so clear you could almost see through them right into his thoughts. But the real kicker was the smile. Comforting, like he’d known you for your whole life, with just a hint of mischief, like he knew you even better than you knew yourself.
I can’t believe he waited for me. He hadn’t eaten a bite before my arrival. I mean, I was an employee; he didn’t have to humor me like that. But I got the feeling that no matter who he was eating with, he would have waited. He was that kind of guy. A guy who really made other people feel important, even though, according to most people, he was probably always the most important one in the room.
“It’s just a shame I have to go away so soon after your arrival,” Prince Leo said, taking another sip of wine.
I nearly choked on my maple glazed salmon, jolted out of my daydream about those eyes. “Going away?”
I couldn’t help but wonder how the heck I was supposed to write an autobiography about someone I barely knew, and who apparently, was in no hurry to let me in on any inside info anytime soon.
He nodded. “I have to fly to Australia for about a week for some appearances.”
“Oh, that sounds nice,” I said.
I mean, of course I was freaking out knowing I was losing a week of grilling the Prince, but it’s not like I was in any position to say anything.
I think I might have nearly stopped breathing when he smiled and looked straight into my eyes. This guy was not England’s most eligible bachelor for nothing. He had a way of rendering a girl senseless with one look. Even a girl who is very attached to her super famous movie star boyfriend.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be back before you know it. It could be a good excuse to get acquainted with England anyway,” he said with the smile that made my insides slither around like a non-single woman’s insides have no business slithering.
“Yeah, of course,” I said, sure my disappointment had much more to do with the lost time on the autobiography than the fact that I wasn’t going to see Prince Leo for a few days.
Yes, I was sure of it.
And really, this could be a blessing in disguise. Maybe it would be the perfect opportunity to sneak away to do a bit of the traveling I was hoping to get in. A weekend spa getaway sounded pretty relaxing. At least, more relaxing than spending a week alone in the castle with Miranda.
“So, what made you choose to make your home all the way out here?” I asked, figuring I should at least make and attempt at finding something out about this guy. Who was staring at me so intently that it almost felt wrong to hold his gaze. Except that it felt so right.
“Honestly, I just love the peace and quiet. It’s so different from the city.”
I nodded, mesmerized, watching his lips move as he told the story.
“And of course I’ve always loved castles.”
“Really?” I said. “I mean, of course everyone loves castles, but I would have thought you’d be sick of them by now or something.”
He chuckled. “You know it’s funny, you’d think since I’m in the Royal family, I would have grown up in a castle, but I actually grew up in the heart of London in an apartment.”
“Really? I thought it must be law or something that the Royals had to have castles.”
He laughed. “Well, the family did have a castle, but I only ever got to visit it in the summer.”
“And you loved it so much you had to buy your own?”
He laughed again. “I guess so. Actually those summers were pretty great. I never really got to do everything I wanted when I was a kid, but when we got to the castle, it was like I had free reign. Just running around all over the place doing whatever I wanted.”
I nodded, smiling, taking another sip of wine. “So how come you couldn’t do that in the city?”
He tilted his head. “You know what it’s like,” he said. “That’s why you’re here. How hard it can be when the photographers are lurking around every corner trying to capture your every move. Especially if you’re caught doing something shady like blowing your nose or something.”
I laughed. But then I realized maybe it wasn’t meant to be funny. “I can’t imagine having to deal with that my whole life. A few months just about killed me.”
He smiled. “You get used to it, I guess. Didn’t you get used to it after a while?”
“And that’s where having a castle in the country with state of the art security comes in very handy.”
“Ah ha!” I said. “And the real reason comes out.”
He smiled. “Exactly. You get it.”
I blushed. “I can’t believe I became known all the way over here. It was weird enough thinking that everyone back home knew all about my most embarrassing moments, but knowing that even you, a Prince in England knows everything about me, is a little… strange.”
He laughed, presumably at my embarrassing moments. God, I could just die, thinking about all the stuff the whole world knew about me.
“Welcome to my world,” he said. “Imagine going through that same kind of humiliation when you’re a teenager.”
“I would have never survived,” I said, amazed that he could still function as a normal human being. A childhood like that would have killed me for sure. Or at least rendered me so loony that I’d be locked up tight.
But he just shrugged. “It gave me a thick skin, that’s for sure.” He smiled that ‘knock you straight to your knees’ smile.
I sighed, smiling. Then immediately hoped he didn’t notice my lame fan girl moment. God, I was such a dork sometimes.
But he just went on eating his dinner, and chatting about the weather.
I had no idea how I’d be able to convey exactly how charming this guy was in the autobiography, especially considering I was supposed to be writing it as him, and out and out saying it would probably not look all that humble. But I couldn’t let it go unknown. Honestly, he deserved a ghostwriter much more experienced than me, even if I did have a tiny bit of knowledge about the paparazzi.
Of course, I couldn’t afford to walk away from the job, so I decided right then and there that I would work harder than any other ghostwriter ever had to make the book perfect.
