To Save a King, page 10
At the truck John opened Gemma’s door. “You made the evening so much more enjoyable. Scottie liked you.”
“More like she wanted to know the girl who usurped her reputation in high school.”
“Trent told me you were a beauty queen.”
“In a very, very small pageant. But I’m not that girl anymore.” Gemma climbed into her seat and the hem of the pink dress slid down her smooth thigh. He stared for a second, then collected himself and slid behind the wheel. Behind him, the lights of Gunner’s motor flashed through the dark.
“Scottie commanded the night, didn’t she?” Gemma said more to herself than John. “She’s pretty, well, cool. I always wanted to meet her.”
“You just saw a glimpse of Queen Catherine II only with an American accent. She looks like her, acts like her, has her fortitude. But underneath, the woman is mush. She cares about everything and everyone. If she’s like Mum at all, she’ll go home tonight and cry.”
“Now you know why neither one of them want to meet.”
Well that put a different light on things. “Of course, you’re right.” Why hadn’t he considered that as well? Bravo, Gemma.
“I have to admit, I thought you’d say more tonight, you know, be all princely and—” From the corner of his eye, he saw her spear the air with her finger. “‘You’re commanded to see the queen.’”
“It’s the twenty-first century, Gemma, not the first. We can’t make her. As for dinner, I’m an observer. I like to get to know someone before I move in.” The headlights cut through the darkness, highlighting the two-lane road. He was tired and wanted to think through the evening but he wasn’t ready to say goodnight to Gemma.
“Want my advice? And please, feel free to say no.” He glanced over at her, waiting. The question was rhetorical. “Give her time. She lived her whole life thinking her mother was dead. She was raised by Shug O’Shay, who is nothing short of a Southern hurricane. My granny served with her on a church committee and the only time I ever heard her swear was when she collided with Miss Shug.”
“Seems like solid advice. I’ll ring her for coffee later in the week. Java Jane’s. I’ve been enjoying their lattes.” Now it was his turn. “Can I ask you something?” Gemma waited, silent. “What happened in Hollywood?”
She shifted away and stared out her window. “What makes you think something happened?”
“You changed when Scottie brought it up. When she said she wanted to hear more.” He stopped at the intersection of Ox Bottom Parkway and River Road, then continued on.
“Would you care for a cup of coffee at my place?” Gemma said. “Eat this pie? Leftover is never as good as fresh.”
“Stellar point, my friend. Besides, Buck’s on some low carb, no sugar diet. What sort of guest would I be if I stored temptation in his refrigerator?”
“Exactly. But first, turn here.” She pointed to a little convenience store sitting like a beacon of hope on a dark corner. “I’ll need to get some coffee and cream.”
Chapter Nine
Queen Catherine
Another sleepless night combined with her medication made her restless and irritable. After a week at Hadsby, she had asked Edric to take her home. The old familiar castle wasn’t proving to be as cozy and restful as she’d hoped.
Besides, she wanted to work. To get busy, take her mind off how weak she felt. After all, she was the queen.
In her office, she prepared for her meeting with Elias, the prime minister. But her feet and hands burned with a pin-sharp sensation.
The clock struck eight and Mason entered. “The prime minister, ma’am.”
“Elias, good morning.” She fought the pain and shook his hand, then sat in her regular chair. Oh, how she wanted to kick off her shoes and rub the pain from her feet.
“Your Majesty.” Elias sat, crossing his legs, ready to give his report. “How are you? You’re supposed to be on holiday this month.”
“I’m irritated, if you must know. I seem to have some sort of virus or flu that insists on plaguing me.”
“Vitamin C, my wife says.”
“Any more vitamin C and I’ll turn into an orange.”
His cordial laugh led them straight into work. Elias reported nothing out of the ordinary. Taxes, businesses, spending, and oddly, the recent hullabaloo over the Midlands land sale to Reingard Industries.
“MP Fickle is a dog with a bone, ma’am. He believes something underhanded has gone on and he’s determined to dig it up.”
“What sort of underhanded? I read the sale was perfectly legitimate.”
“As did I. I even spoke to the local authorities and environmental ministry. Eloise Ltd. paid for all the testing on the land but in the end, failed to come up with the finances to make the purchase. Reingard swooped in.”
“That’s unfortunate for Eloise, but perfectly within Reingard’s rights,” the queen said. “What do you make of Hamish?”
“He’s ambitious, smart, intelligent, charming. He’s a uniter.”
“Uniter? More of an instigator from where I sit. Stirring up trouble. You don’t think he’ll steal the affection of the people, do you?”
“From who? The Family? From Prince John? A young, handsome widower who patrons seventy charities and champions everyday people? I think not.”
“It’s important for Prince John to get it right going forward. My father made sure I was the crown princess of the people, not just the House of Blue.”
“Which is why he would not let you marry your American. Nor keep your child.”
“We all must make sacrifices.” She shifted in her seat, combating the waves of prickly pain in her hands and feet. On top of which she felt so weary, as if she might fold and slip right down to the floor.
“You look tired, Your Majesty. I should go. Let you rest.”
She wanted to refute his observation, but felt suddenly weary with no more energy for conversation. When Elias had gone, she told Mason she was not to be disturbed. Fixing a cup of tea, she returned to her desk but could barely hold up her head. She had no time for this nonsense.
Being ill did not suit her at all.
From the window of her high and lofty third floor Perrigwynn Palace office, she could see the realm of her ancestors. The capital city of Port Fressa was alive and vibrant as any in the world. Modern skyscrapers shadowed ancient shops and homes, cathedrals.
And much like New York, Port Fressa never slept. At night the glow of streetlamps haloed the Clemency district like a tiara woven through a head of silky black hair.
If she pressed her cheek against the thick glass, she could just make out the radiant lights of the Heart of God. In the daytime, the steeple lights paled, but at night, they owned the darkness and formed a heart.
No one knew the phenomenon of lights had been created until the first structure over six stories was erected. The eight cathedrals in the city centre were so set that they formed a perfectly shaped heart. It was magical if not miraculous.
She’d shared her fist kiss there. With Trent O’Shay. What choice did she have but to fall in love? She’d arrived late to the love game, being sheltered in the palace, then at a girls’ school, being followed by protection officers and governesses. Even her time at Haxton University was chaste and conventional.
“Darling?” Edric, her handsome, solid-as-a-rock king consort, leaned over her desk and kissed her forehead, drawing her from her memory. “You’re warm. Do you have a fever?”
“What does it matter? I’ve work to do.” Catherine patted his chest and returned to her computer screen. “Have you heard from John? Has he met Scottie?”
“Yes, but he’s given no details. What do you make of the social media posts? William Clark mentioned them to me today during the Development Ministry meeting. Said everyone speculated John had a new love.”
“Then they don’t know John. I want him to move on, but I’m quite sure he’s not met a new love after a week in Tennessee. Besides, as much as we all love our American friends, he’d not be foolish enough to fall for an American, no matter how lovely.” For once she was glad her son was still very much in love with his wife. “After what Gus went through with Coral Winthrop, being left at the altar, he’d steer clear of any sort of repeat.” Catherine shuddered. What a nightmare. “As a future king, he knows to marry someone who loves Lauchtenland as much as he does.”
“You sound as if one can easily steer the human heart. And we know now why Coral left Gus. She’d known they weren’t right. She’d encountered God. Surely you know what that’s about, Kate.”
“Don’t use my experiences against me.” She smiled softly. Edric was her rock. He knew her better than anyone. “As for steering hearts… I was in love with Trent O’Shay, but when I realized our relationship could not go forward, I let it go. Then I found you.” She reached for his hand. “Best decision I ever made was to marry you.”
“Is Trent part of the reason you wouldn’t go to Scottie yourself?” Edric released her hand as he perched on the edge of her desk and gazed down at her with nothing but tenderness in his gray-blue eyes.
“I don’t think so, no. Trent I could handle. But Scottie, after all these years, rejecting me as I deserved, would still be crushing. Besides, I want to beat this cold or virus, whatever seems to be plaguing me.”
“Darling, go to bed. I’ll tell Mason to clear your diary.”
She was too weary to fight him. Leaning on his arm, she returned to apartment 1A. “Can you ask Pablo for some tea?”
Edric rang for the butler, giving him instructions, then returned to Catherine. “I want to call the doctor. This has gone on too long.”
When she reclined on the couch, he slipped off her shoes and rubbed her feet. She winced with each touch, but it seemed to relieve the prickly pain.
“Thank you,” she whispered. But her gratitude was about more than his foot massage.
It was for loving her.
For over thirty years she hid the fact she’d had a daughter. After Trent, and well, the whole ordeal, she was so broken she thought she’d never love again. Then she met Edric at a small garden party and he made falling in love easy. Fun. And when she handed him her heart, she wanted his love and trust in return. To appear as the woman of integrity she purported to be.
What if confessing everything about Trent and Scottie made her look less in his vivid eyes? So she never told him about her daughter.
“Pablo will tend you, darling, I must be off. I’ve another meeting this morning. See you at dinner.” Edric kissed her cheek and on his way out asked Pablo to attend Her Majesty carefully.
Catherine tried to nap after her tea but almost felt too weak to sleep. The July sunlight warming the window cheered her so she kicked off the covers and traipsed slowly to the window and glanced down at the palace gardens.
They were a beautiful array of colorful flowers blooming from beds of dark dirt all hemmed in by fastidiously trimmed green grass. She ached to go for a walk, to be out of doors.
In the distance, movement caught her eye. She squinted through a bit of sunlight to see a man in a long, woolen anorak and a wide-brimmed hat under the shade of the King’s tree. A woolen coat? In this summer heat? Catherine pressed for a closer look then jerked back. What was he doing here?
Emmanuel.
Chapter Ten
Gemma
While the coffee brewed, Gemma cleared the kitchen table, not bothering to make excuse of her mess—what was the point?—and exposed the poppy red Formica and chrome, a tribute to days gone by.
“When I was at uni, my mates and I frequented a pub that had blue Formica tables along the wall. The rest was plaster and wood from the eighteenth century, but those tables were a tip to the modern era.” He stooped down, looking underneath. “Where’d you get this?”
“Came with the house. If you’re looking for gum, I have never-been-chewed pieces in my bag.”
John raised up with an expression that made her laugh. “I was checking out the maker.”
“Give me a sec to wipe down the table.” Gemma snatched a paper towel from the roll on the wall and the Formula 409 from under the sink to wipe the table. “This place just has no storage.”
“You should’ve seen Gus’s room when we were growing up. Clothes and toys everywhere. No sooner would a maid clean and straighten, he’d have it all out again.”
“Did you have a lot of maids and nannies growing up?” Gemma tossed away the paper towels, stored the cleaner under the sink, then searched the cupboards for Granny’s china.
“Two nannies before school. Maids worked for the palace, so they didn’t impact my world as much. My parents were involved, not leaving all our care to others. We ate breakfast and dinner together. Tuesday and Thursday nights were family night unless there was some state function. We traveled with them every summer. They both took off work during the holidays. It was quite normal, I think.”
“For living in a palace and wearing a crown, having protection officers.” He’d sent Gunner home once they arrived here. A command the man didn’t seem to like. Now, where are those cups?
“We all have our burdens to bear,” John said with a bit of sarcasm. “What about your parents?”
“Ah, Mac and Mauve. Where to begin?” Found them. Only two cups and saucers remained after a fire several decades ago. Granny gave these remnants to Gemma when she moved into the house.
“It was Grandpa’s and my wedding china.”
Gemma set the table with the cups and saucers, a fork and spoon, then sniffed the milk in the fridge—still good—and collected a couple of napkins. “I don’t believe I have any sugar.”
“Cream is fine.” The prince spread out his napkin, neatly removed his container’s lid, and picked up his fork.
When she’d poured the coffee, she sat and raised her fork. “Bon appétit.”
“Bon appétit.” John creamed his coffee then took a bite of pie. “This is so good I don’t care I’m having a second piece.”
“I pretend to work off extra calories in the barn. But I know it’s not true.”
“So, what about your parents? I feel at a disadvantage. You know about mine, but I don’t know about yours.”
“They are the salt-of-the-earth type. Hard workers, honest, decent. Raised me right.”
“You’re an only child?”
“Not on purpose. She couldn’t have more after me.”
“Were you spoiled?”
“Do I seem spoiled? I didn’t have to share with siblings if that’s what you mean. But we never had a lot of money. Most of the time we were broke. Dad’s a dreamer, always looking for a way to turn one dollar into a thousand. In the summer, we’d sit in the lawn chairs, listening to the crickets, watching the stars, and dreaming. I wanted to be a, well…” She took a bite of pie. Don’t tell him. It would only lead to more questions. “Daddy used to go on and on about all the things he was going to buy Mama and me one day. But for every dollar he invested in some scheme, he lost two.” Gemma set down her fork for a sip of coffee.
“But you had everything you needed?”
He sounded concerned and it touched her. Her years in Hollywood, combined with her relationship with Matt, had made her hard. Guarded. She saw displays of tenderness and caring as a way for others to gain advantage over her.
“Daddy drives a delivery truck and Mama is the head housekeeper at Hearts Bend Inn.” Might as well paint the whole picture. Be up front and honest about her very humble roots. Not that it really mattered but since he asked.
“I grew up in a double-wide trailer on a tract of land my grandfather gave to us. We had a gravel driveway that washed away every spring and iced over every winter. There were rust stains in the sinks from the well water. When I learned to drive, I’d go to town to do my laundry because Daddy was forever forgetting to buy water softener. I had clothes, food, education, even dance lessons. My parents run around with a tight group of friends with whom they play cards several nights a week, drink on Saturday night, but just enough to get them dancing to oldies. On Sunday mornings, they’re up early and on their way to church to repent.”
When the prince didn’t respond, Gemma fought a sting of embarrassment. She’d said too much. But it was all true. In a good way. Did he think she threw her folks under the bus? Or that they were a bunch of hick rednecks?
She finished her last bite of pie. “This would’ve been perfect with a scoop of ice cream.”
“What you just said—” The prince shoved his container forward. “About your parents, your honesty. It took Holland almost until we were married to speak so freely. I knew her parents, Lord and Lady Cunningham, so there was no real mystery about her upbringing, but she never talked about them or her childhood. It was like she feared something would put me off or turn me away.”
“Love makes us do strange or unusual things.”
“Did love make you do strange things?” John collected their dishes, carried them to the sink, rinsed them, then opened the dishwasher.
“Doesn’t work,” Gemma said with a low laugh. “I use it for storage. Just leave the dishes for later. So, did Holland eventually share more of her life?”
Funny how he focused on how love made one do strange, unusual things. She said it as a toss-away line but John seemed to think it meant something more.
“She did.” John stared out the kitchen window over the sink. “Seemed like we were just getting started when she died.”
She was about to ask about the accident when the door flew open. Imani and Penny entered with the dogs, their claws scratching and clicking on the linoleum.
John turned from the window and gave each girl a nod. “Ladies.”
“John, you remember Imani. This is her friend, Penny. Girls, curtsy, this is Prince John.”
“Hello,” Imani said, offering her hand, but seemed locked in a dream-like trance. Next to her, Penny, the six-foot center for the Rock Mills girls’ basketball team, giggled and blushed.
