Once Upon a Prince (20 page)

“Me too.”

“Susanna.” He touched her chin to raise her face to his, but she broke out of his arms.

A kiss? He’d steal her heart for sure, and she feared she’d never get it back.

“So, what is this room?” They were in some kind of turret with arched windowpanes, bookshelves, and an eclectic arrangement of couches and chairs, floor lamps and tables. The amber lights from the grounds outside bounced against the glass and gave the round, dark room a romantic aura.

“Library. The architect designed it as a playroom for the king’s children, but over time it became a library.” Nathaniel hit a switch, and a fire ignited in the stone fireplace. A second switch engaged the fixtures moored in the ceiling recesses and spilled light down the walls.

“Oh, Nate.” Susanna moved through the leather club chairs to the center of the room, her gold crystal Louboutins sinking into the plush carpet. “It’s incredible.”

Hanging on the wall between the bookcases was a portrait of a young man dressed in ornate robes, his hand on his sash, his right foot jutted forward. Waves of his dark hair drifted into his high, ruffled collar. Amusement adorned his expression.

“Who is this?”

“King Stephen I. At about twenty-five.”

Susanna pressed her hand to her heart. His eyes seemed real, awake, as if they watched the room. Watched her. “Your ancestor,” she whispered, stretching to brush her fingers over the tip of the sovereign’s shoe. “You look like him.”

“You think?” Nathaniel rattled the balcony doors. “Blooming thing sticks in winter. One would expect it to be easier to open when it’s cold, but no, not in this old manse.” A click sounded, and Nathaniel cheered himself as the doors swung open. “You can’t beat me, you ol’ door.”

A fresh cold ushered the stale air from the room. The flames in the fireplace bent, fighting to stand.

Nathaniel stood behind her now, along with the lovely gust of cold, crystal air. She was happy. At peace. No matter how this trip ended, she already knew she was glad she came.

“So I look like him? I’d rather
be
like him,” Nathaniel said. “The people of Brighton had just made him king after he freed them from British rule. Stephen I snuck into Brighton’s north port with his merry band of twenty-five and captured three anchored ships. He sent a letter to Henry VIII demanding Brighton’s freedom or he’d never see his men or ships again. Being as one of the captured admirals was in his court, Henry agreed. Brighton became a free nation. No more serfdom. A few years later, he assisted Hessenberg in gaining her freedom from Prussia.”

“His blood runs in your veins.”

“I fear it’s been diluted through the ages.” He laughed low, then encircled her in his arms, cradling her against his chest.

Just be, Susanna
.

“Where are you staying?” he whispered in her ear, melting her.

“The Parrsons House.” She arched back to see his face. “You really didn’t know, did you?”

“Not a clue. They must have hid your name from me. I never saw you on the guest list.” He released her, walking around her to face King Stephen I, hands in his pockets. “Tomorrow I’ll be crowned because of this man’s courage. Because he thought the Brightonians deserved freedom. To keep their own crops, their own wages.”

“Are you nervous?” She was destined to love men who were duty bound, wasn’t she?

“A bit. We’ve rehearsed plenty enough. If royals do anything well, it’s rehearse ceremony.” But when he turned to her, his thoughts about becoming king were not what she saw in his eyes. “Susanna—”

She moved away from him, her heart fluttering, and toward the portrait. “Your country values freedom, independence. All the way back to this man. He risked his own life to free people who were all but enslaved to King Henry VIII’s feudal system.”

“Yes, he did. Serving the people for their prosperity is part of the royal signature and pledge.”

His voice, his presence whispered around her, wooing her. If she released her stiff posture, she’d fall into him.

“Susanna.” His fingers grazed her neck, setting her on fire, as he brushed aside her hair.

“I’d better find Avery.” She whirled around for the escape hatch, because if she didn’t get out of here, no telling what crazy confession she’d make.
I love you. Marry me. I’ll bear your children
. “What if she’s looking for me? Poor Aves, all alone out there.”

“Trust me, she’s being tended to by any number of blokes.”

“Still, I’d better go check.”

Just before she reached for the door, he said, “I’m in love with you,” and followed his words across the room.

“W–what?” She’d seen it in his eyes, but now she’d heard it. She reached for the nearest chair.

“I love you.”

“Couldn’t you leave well enough alone? Just dance with me, flirt with me, then send me on my way? No, you have to tell me you love me. To what end?” Vim and vigor took hold of her trembling limbs. “What am I supposed to do with that? Cart it home, tell it to my grandkids someday? ‘Your grammy had the love of a prince?’”

“I’m sorry, Susanna, but it’s true. I can’t fight it anymore. What I feel for you is more real than his blood”—he pointed to King Stephen I—“flowing in my veins. I’m tired of holding it all together. You’re on my mind constantly. Since the day I met you at the lover’s tree.”

“Lover’s Oak.” She dug her fingers into the upholstery.

“When you walked in tonight, I felt as if we’d never been apart. It almost seemed as if some part of me expected you to come.”

“What about Lady Genevieve?”

“Lady Genev—ah, you’ve been reading the
LibP
online.”

“They say you have to marry her … your economy depends on it.” She walked over to the first king’s portrait. “He slipped into a bay and captured ships to free Brighton. Surely you have that same kind of courage.”

Why was she arguing against her own heart? The romantic glow of the room faded, and though the fire flickered, darkness edged the corners and a bit of Susanna’s heart.

“You want me to marry her? I don’t love her. I love you. Besides, Lady Genevieve barely qualifies as a relative of Prince Francis. I daresay
you
have more of King Stephen’s blood in you than Ginny has of Prince Francis.”

“But if you marry her, she becomes a royal and meets the requirement of the entail.”

“I can’t believe you want me to marry her when I just told you I love you.” He sighed and sat on the arm of the courtier chair.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to make it sound like I
wanted
you to marry Ginny.” Susanna sat in the chair and rested her head against his back, feeling a bit of his burden. “I don’t know what I’m talking about, Nate. I’m sorry.”

He took her hand and drew her around to face him. The wind rattled the windows, peeking in to see if anyone was home. His gaze, his warmth, his touch …

She trembled right down to the tips of her Louboutins.

“It’s cold.” Susanna rubbed her arms. The heat of the fireplace stayed on the far side of the turret.

“Take my jacket.” He shrugged out of his tuxedo then walked over to close the balcony doors. He remained there, gazing out. “I miss Dad. I’ll be going about my day and remember something I meant to ask him but never got ’round to it.”

“My granny used to say, ‘You can’t live life looking through the rearview mirror, shug.’”

His laugh bounced off the cold, amber-washed pane. “Wise woman.”

“Do you feel you should marry her?”

“Your granny?” He glanced back when she laughed.

“Ginny.”

“I lie awake at night wondering if I want it to be in the history books that on my watch I had it in my power to give a small duchy her freedom and my own country financial liberty but I refused because the solution involved marrying a woman I didn’t love.” He glanced down as he stamped the floor. “I can hear my ancestors rolling around in their graves.”

“They would marry for political expediency?”

“Absolutely.”

“But isn’t that what the marriage act was all about? To stop
the politics of royal marriages? Wouldn’t marrying Ginny align Brighton with another country?”

He stared at her for a moment. “Yes, but remember the two adrift sisters? Hessens are not seen as foreigners.”

Susanna motioned to King Stephen I. “Would he marry for freedom’s sake?”

“I think King Stephen I would’ve preferred battle than marrying against his will,” Nathaniel said, turning to the windowed doors again.

Susanna stood beside him, tugging on his sleeve. “Do what you have to do, Nate. Be courageous.”

He gazed down at her, slipping his hand into hers. “When I look at you, I feel courageous. When I look at you, I see St. Simons Island in the summer.” He reached up with his free hand and stroked her hair. “I see a beautiful woman that I was trying to forget until she showed up for my coronation.”

“Should I have stayed home?” She stepped aside, freeing her hand from his.

“No, no …” His peering, blue eyes glistened. “I just wish it were July and I was driving by Lover’s Oak.”

“Would you stop again?” She smoothed her hand over her skirt, finding comfort in the silky sheen. “Knowing what you know now?”

“Certainly, only I’d not wait three days to see you again.”

“We have two oceans and five hundred years of history separating us, Nate. My guess is if God meant me to be with you, I would’ve been born here. Even if Ginny and this Hessenberg mess weren’t part of the problem, you legally couldn’t marry me, right? Has that changed?” He shook his head. She steadied her voice. “And probably never will. I’d better go find Avery.”

He didn’t stop her this time as she ducked through the panel opening and moved down the narrow hall. The gold glitter of her
shoes lit her through the deep shadows. Her jaw and neck hurt from holding back her tears.

When she heard the allegro tempo of the violins and rounded the secret passage into the grand ballroom, she fashioned a smile.

The sight was breathtaking. The trimmings, the music, the elegance of colorful dancers. She glanced down the hall one last time. No Nate.

It was for the best. She could not come between a man and his country. If it were even possible. Then she spotted Avery, laughing and dancing with an astute, regal-looking young man.

That image alone was worth the trip. Avery lost in a fairy tale.

Susanna paused on the edge of the dance floor, suddenly aware of sharp, scornful glances. She scanned the shadows along the back wall, looking for a place to hide and figure out her heart.

She loved Nate. Of that she was certain. Yet his confession about Brighton, Hessenberg, and Lady Genevieve gave her a glimpse into his world. And it didn’t revolve around her.

A familiar hand took hold of hers. Nate stepped in front of her. “Maybe we can’t have everything we want in this relationship, Susanna.” He bent his lips to her ears and whispered, “But we have this ball and tonight, you are my queen.”

The firebrand of chills burned up any possible refusal. She let him lead her to the dance floor and take her into his arms, swirling again through the stardust to the music of their own hearts.

A
little before one in the morning, Nathaniel knocked on his mum’s door. She answered in her royal blue evening gown, every strand of her sculptured dark hair in place under her diamond-studded tiara.

“I thought you might come.” She turned toward the room, expecting him to follow. “I made some tea.”

Nathaniel settled his jacket on the coat rack by the door and tugged at his tie. “Who invited her?”

“The American?” Mum passed him a gold-trimmed cup. “Or Lady Margaret? You heard of her altercation with Lady Keri in the powder room?” Mum took up her own tea, shaking her head, clinking her spoon against the thin porcelain. “She and Stan do come from the underbelly of the family. She can be brusque. Though you danced with her twice tonight.”

“Mum, seriously, Lady Margaret? You think I’d knock on your door at this hour to talk about that old mare? Susanna, Mum—who invited her?”

Mum twisted her lip. She was caught. “If you must know”—stiff, defensive—“Stephen and I did.” She sat with a silent huff in her posture and avoided eye contact.

“You and Stephen?” Nathaniel sat, her confession disarming
him. Jonathan, maybe. Or Albert from the King’s Office, but Mum and his brother? “How could you invite her without telling me?”

“‘Twas for your own good.” Mum took refuge behind her teacup just as the door slammed and Stephen entered, his polka-dot tie hanging loose, his jet-black hair electrified.

“Great ball, Nate. Lots of pretty women.” He tumbled over the back of the couch and stretched out on the cushions.

“He wants to know why we invited Susanna.” Mum poured Stephen a cup of tea without asking and passed it to him. He cast Nathaniel a sly glance, said nothing, sat forward, and doctored Mum’s brew with whatever concoction he had in his pocket flask.

“Because she was under your skin,” he said. “You didn’t know if you loved her or not. So we brought her here for you to find out.”

“Stephen noticed that Ginny gave more attention to your friends and family, to your prime minister, than to you, so we thought Susanna’s presence might give her a good jolt. Make her realize she must capture your heart before ours.”

“You assume I’ve captured Ginny’s, Mum.”

“Susanna doesn’t belong here, Nate.” Stephen aimed the remote at the telly and powered it on. “She’s lovely and sweet, we grant you. But an American as queen of Brighton? Chap, it can’t happen. Think of Brighton, the monarchy. Think of me and the sort of lifestyle I have.” Stephen gulped his tea this time. “I can’t be a king, nor risk a revolt should you abdicate.”

“Abdication? Your lifestyle?” Nathaniel stood, tea in his hand. But he didn’t have the stomach for cordial tea so he set it on the tea cart. “That’s your big care, Stephen? At the moment Susanna believes in me more than my own family. Did you think how she might feel when she learns of your trick? Or me? Bringing her over here to use her? To what end? We have real, live, beating hearts in our chests. We’re not pawns in your worried little royal games.”

“Son, we didn’t mean—”

“Of course not, Mum, but you did.” Nathaniel paced around the back of the couch, his emotions twisting in his chest.

Stephen muted the television and turned to Nathaniel. “You said yourself you didn’t know if you loved her.”

“So you concoct a scheme and drag Mum into it?” Tired, frustrated, and aware that he had an early morning motor coming to take him to Watchman Abbey, Nathaniel wanted to wring his brother’s neck. “You can’t just tamper with my private feelings, Steve. If I love Susanna, that’s my issue. Not yours. Nor Mum’s. My whole life is going to be onstage beginning tomorrow. Except for what’s in here.” He motioned to the triangle of space between him, Mum, and Stephen. “Your plan backfired, by the way.”

At that, Stephen shut off the telly. Mum’s cup clattered against the saucer.

“Before I wasn’t sure I loved her. Now I know I do. And …” Should he confess? “I–I told her.”

Mum moaned. “You didn’t.”

“Good for you, Nate,” Stephen said with a cockeyed smile, revealing he’d had entirely too much doctored tea this evening. “Really, good for you. Way to go and bravo.”

“You’re drunk.” Nathaniel snatched the cup and saucer from Stephen’s hand and set it on the cart. “You best be bright-eyed and spot-on in the morning.”

“Nathaniel.” Stephen worked to command his words. “Our plan was to wake you up. Stop dragging your feet with Genevieve, nursing some schoolboy crush over this American girl. It’s Lady Adel all over.”

“Ah, there it is.” Nathaniel dropped to the couch. Mum listened humbly from her chair.

“You’ve not fallen in love since,” Stephen said.

“Adel was ten years ago. I was an idiot university man. Susanna is nothing like Adel. Nor is our relationship. If you must
know, I’ve not spoken to her since I left Georgia in July. Until tonight … thanks to you. I came home focused on my business here and getting over her.”

“We believed if you met Susanna on your terms, in your home, you’d see your vast differences. That she’s not right for you. Nathaniel, you’re more than a king, you’re a beacon for all Brighton’s tomorrows. The hope of the monarchy.” Mum set down her tea. “If you marry for the monarchy, for Brighton and her future, then you will do well. Time will prove you right. You will be following in the footsteps of many who’ve gone before you. Love is a choice. Choose to love what is right for Brighton.”

“Gone before? Like who? You, Mum?” Nathaniel spilt his words without considering the consequences. His frustration and the late hour made this conversation unwise.

“What are you saying, Nate?” Stephen asked. “Mum, did you marry Dad for Brighton?”

“We are not talking about me.” She made her way to the tea cart without her cup and saucer. “Get this American out of your system, Nathaniel, and propose to Ginny. Let’s solve your queen, heir, and political situation in one joyous celebration. Find a way to love her. Woo her. Make her love you. In a few hours you will be anointed as king. It won’t be a week before the papers, the bookmakers, the gossips, our friends and foes will be begging for a royal wedding. Will we have an heir? Will the House of Stratton live on?” Mum’s steely, stubborn side surfaced. “Our foes would like nothing more than for our reign to at least crumble. Though our friends, who are many, cheer us on.”

“I’m only thirty-two. There’s time to marry.”

“Do you intend to abdicate? I want to know.”

“Mum, I’ve been working for five months, preparing for the coronation. Why would I abdicate?”

“You know if you leave things to Stephen he’ll have the
throne room converted into a bowling alley before his coronation confetti has been swept from the streets.”

Stephen cut Mum a wry smile. “Sweet, Mum, you remembered.”

Mum sighed. “Nathaniel, we’re sorry.” She walked over to him and took hold of him. “But it’s untrue that we don’t believe in you. We do. You are our king.”

When Nathaniel returned to his quarters, Ginny waited for him.

“I hope it’s not too late.” She stood as he entered, still in her ball gown. “Malcolm let me in.”

“What do you want, Ginny?” Nathaniel tossed his keys to the lamp table, still steaming from his confrontation with Mum and Stephen.

She regarded him with tired green eyes. Ringlets of her black hair had fallen loose from her hairdo and curled about her neck.

“Why did you humiliate me like that tonight? The first dance? With her? My stars, Nathaniel, she disrespected the guests, the Crown, the ball, and all of Brighton when she dragged you off, away from your guests.”

“She did no such thing. I took her off.” He sighed as he slipped his tie from around his neck. “This is what you want to talk about at nearly two in the morning? The first dance?” He motioned to the clock. “I have to be up in six hours, fresh and alert for my coronation. If you don’t mind …” He pointed to the door.

“Yes, I do mind.” She crossed her arms, standing firm. “Let’s just get this out. How do you feel about me?”

Pretty Ginny. Gutsy Ginny.

“Why don’t you tell me how you feel?” He was really too weary for this, but she was here now, might as well go ‘round.

“You know how I feel.” She fixed her pearly smile on him and shifted her pose. Ginny used her assets well. “Nathaniel, you’re tying yourself up in knots over this when the solution is so simple. I know this girl was your friend in America. I understand she’s different, exciting, fresh. But I’m your kind. I’m Brightonian. I’m the solution to the entail.”

“Excuse me, but I thought we were talking about love. Not a business deal.” Nathaniel looked for a place to sit that didn’t have him crossing Ginny’s path. But she stood between him and his favorite chair.

Had he confessed to Susanna just hours before that he loved her? The whole exchange in the turret library was beginning to feel like a dream.

She laughed. “Darling, remember the year I studied abroad and fell in love with the French ambassador? I was so sure he was my destiny, but you and Jon knew better. You flew all the way to Paris to snatch me out of his clutches.”

“He was a schemer and a lothario.” Nathaniel pulled a nearby King Mark chair forward and sat. “He’d have taken every shilling of your father’s money.”

“But you showed me the light. Now it’s my turn. We’re a good team, Nathaniel. We cover all the bases. You’re a military officer and businessman, an ambassador, a bright star in Brighton, handsome, smart, athletic. I’m a businesswoman, a scholar, an athlete, a beauty queen. We have a common history. I am Brightonian with Hessen roots. Our partnership will put us in the halls of great European monarchies. We can’t lose.”

“You don’t know that, Ginny. You as grand duchess only gets Hessenberg back to being a sovereign nation. Are you prepared to help guide them through their floundering economy?”

“I’ve read for my business master’s, Nathaniel. I run a successful company—”

“And we’ve not even discussed the implications of the grand
duchess being married to the king of Brighton. What kind of turmoil might that create?”

“Details, love. Details we can manage along with our governments. But the goal of a sovereign Hessenberg will be achieved.”

“With
you
as their monarch?”

“Yes, with me as their duchess.” Ginny stood in front of him, arms out to her sides. “Nathaniel, I’m offering myself as wife, lover, partner.”

When he was weary, his senses, his reasoning broke down. Ginny’s offer wasn’t really about tomorrow, but about tonight. Right now. His bed more than his heart. The weight of revelation and responsibility caused his soul to ache.

“Nathaniel?”

A thread of pain crept up the back of his neck, around his ears, and up to his temple. “I don’t know, Ginny.”

“What don’t you know?” She knelt beside him, placed her hand on his knee. He shifted his leg away. “Know what I think? The people of Brighton and Hessenberg will embrace us.” She rose up, leaning into him and smoothing her hands over his shoulders. “It will be a win for all, love.” He felt like he was drowning. Suffocating. He unlocked Ginny’s arms from around his neck.

“You’re willing to marry a man you don’t love? Who doesn’t love you? A man who loves someone else?”

“What is love, really?” Ginny slipped her hands from his shoulders down to his chest. “It’s friendship, commitment, a decision. I can love you, Nathaniel.”

The exact words a man likes to hear from the woman he might marry.
I can love you
.

He gazed toward the window, where snow drifted through the outside lights. Perhaps he’d change clothes and take a walk, be one with the snowy silence.

“You won’t be happy, Ginny. Not unless you’re married to a
man who loves you with an intense passion.” He looked at her. “‘Twill be a long life, waking up every day with your heart empty of things I just cannot give you.”

“My dear Nathaniel, do you not know me at all?” She flashed a tiger grin and it frightened him a bit. “I’m so confident in our match that we will be lovers by day’s end. Make no mistake.” She slinked against him as if to give him a taste of her hidden talents.

He shoved her away. Space. He needed space. “Are you the one behind the
LibP
articles?”

“What? I can’t believe you’d ask me such a thing.” She rose up, turning away with a pout. “Morris fancies me, but he’s just running those stories to sell papers.”

“Just to sell papers?” He leaned toward her. “What did you promise him if I actually married you?”

“You’re tired. I’m not going to dignify that with an answer.”

“Stop evading, Ginny.” Nathaniel grabbed her hand as she started away. “What deal did you strike with him?”

“Nathaniel, listen to you. You’re suspicious and testy. But if you must know, I bring the power of the press and media with me. You want the monarchy to survive the twenty-first century? Then you need me. You
want
me with you.”
Ah, the she-devil surfaces
. “But you abdicate to marry this woman or force the law to change or linger too long in bachelorhood, the press will turn on you. Hessenberg won’t be independent, and she will turn on you. The Crown will be all but lost. The legacy of Brighton’s great kings will end in disgrace with you standing watch.”

“I see you have it all worked out. What’s in it for you?”

Her laugh rang wicked in his ears. “Royalty, Nathaniel. Royalty. It’s the closest thing to immortality.”

“But if I don’t marry you the press will hunt me down? Murder my reign in a slow agonizing newsprint and cyber-space death?”

Ginny bent over him, hemming him in with her hands on
the arms of his chair. “You’ve a year.” She lurched back, grabbed her bag and coat and headed for the door. “One year.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“Certainly not. How unproductive to threaten the king. I’m merely informing you, Your Majesty. The press will give you a honeymoon for your glorious inaugural year. Just in time for the entail to end.” She slammed the door as she left.

A cold breeze cut through the room. Numb, Nathaniel collapsed forward, face in his hands.

Lord, give me wisdom
.

Malcolm made his presence known.