Once Upon A New York Minute: Part 1

by Sherry Ficklin

  I shrug, “It’s a reputation we’ve earned with our actions. But I don’t believe that the past defines us. All you can do is own up to your mistakes and move forward trying to do better. America is a young nation, we stumble, and sometimes we fall, but we’re still trying to fly.”

  “Well said,” Lord Darcey offers, raising a glass to me.

  After that, the conversation flows away again and our entrée is brought out. Everyone’s plate holds a small round steak except for Genevieve’s, which is bits of fruit and what looks like a lump of tofu. I hadn’t noticed before, but her meals have been different from ours all night, now that I think of it.

  “Are you a vegetarian?” I ask, mildly curious.

  She nods, taking a bite of pineapple. “I hate the idea of using living creatures for food, it seems too cruel—and unnecessary when we can get all the nutrients the body requires from other places. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  “I don’t, actually, but I do admire you for holding to your beliefs. My roommate was a vegetarian, I know how challenging that diet can be at times,” I say, cutting into my steak. “It is a serious commitment.”

  “It is,” she nods. “Luckily King Aiden always has special meals prepared for me. Even when others at court forgot, he always remembered, even when we were children.”

  “Sometimes I forget that you all grew up together, that must have been remarkable,” I offer.

  Liam grins, “I distinctly remember Milton getting chased through the kitchen with a wooden spoon after he got caught helping himself to a cake made for the Queen’s Ball.”

  Lord Darcey returns the smile, pointing to Aiden. “I seem to remember someone dared me to do it.”

  Aiden raises his hands innocently, “All I said was that someone should see what flavor it was.”

  “It was peach and vanilla,” Lord Darcey says. “And it was absolutely worth the stern talking to I got from my mother that night.”

  “Marta still hasn’t forgiven you,” Liam says.

  “Neither has my mother,” he says, stabbing a bite of steak.

  Around me the tensions ease, the conversation lightening as we proceeded to eat.

  “Of course, how could we forget the time that Aiden pushed young Lord Norwood off the royal yacht,” Lord Darcey says, pointing his fork toward Liam. “And you jumped into the water to save him.”

  “And he’s been following me around like a puppy ever since,” Liam says, looking around. “Where is Tommy, anyway? I’m surprised he and Sarah would miss this.”

  Aiden opens his mouth to speak but Genevieve beats him to it. “Oh, I’m sure she’d just finalizing the land transfer she’s been working on.” Her gaze rises to me, her expression smug.

  “Land transfer? What’s this all about now?” Lord Rathborne demands, wiping his mouth with the linen napkin and setting beside his plate. “I wasn’t aware of any land transfers.”

  Opting to cut Genevieve off, I speak up. “That’s my fault, I’m afraid. I’ve offered to purchase some land from House Norwood. I’m very interested in extending my stay here to a more permanent situation.”

  “That’s wonderful,” Lord Darcey says across the table, his smile only faltering after he looks down at Lord Rathborne. “Isn’t it?’ he says, looking back to me.

  I smile, “I certainly think so.”

  “As do I,” Genevieve says, her tone flat. “If there’s anything you need, anything I can do to help with your transition, please do let me know.”

  “I will, thank you,” I say, trying not to sound surprised at her offer.

  “I expect I will see your application to establish a formal house across my desk in a few days then?” Aiden says, taking a sip of his wine.

  “I expect so,” I say.

  Rathborne doesn’t’ speak again all evening, instead he stabs at his crème brulee for only a few moments before excusing himself and his wife to take their leave.

  “So, have you chosen a house name?” Genevieve asks, “And a crest?”

  I nod, “I have, in fact. House MacGregor, after my dear friend Liam and his family.”

  Beside me Liam blushes. “I suggested her crest be a unicorn.”

  “But I decided on a fox instead,” I say.

  “A fine choice,” Aiden chimes in. “I look forward to seeing you join the council.”

  “Of course, I’d be glad to catch you up on all the recent council decisions and motions,” Milton offers.

  “That’s very kind of you, I may take you up on that.”

  Aiden stands, thanking us and making his exit. I can’t help but wish I could steal just a few more moments alone with him, but I know it’s not possible tonight. Milton and Genevieve exit next, leaving Liam and me at the table to kill the last of the wine.

  “I should be surprised that she knows about our plan, but I’m not.” He leans over to me, “I know what she said, but don’t be fooled. She’s not happy about any of this and she will sabotage you if she can. She’ll just smile to your face when she does it.”

  “Relax, I’m not completely naïve. I’ve known women like her my whole life. I’m more concerned about Rathborne,” I admit.

  “How so?”

  Narrowing my eyes, I kick back the last of my drink. “He’s a tyrant, and he’s obviously got a grudge against me. Tyrants can be unpredictable when they don’t get their way.”

  “So House Rathborne and House St Lauraunt are against you. You’ve still got House Norwood, House Darcey, and House Neuygen in your corner—not to mention the King. That’s got to count for something, right?”

  “Wait, that’s only five. I thought there were six houses?”

  “Oh,” he scratches the back of his head. “Right. There’s also Ian and Katelyn Price of House Blackmor. They’re older, a bit reclusive.”

  “They weren’t at the coronation?”

  He shakes his head, “They haven’t shown up to a council meeting in ages. They are both in their late sixties and rumor has it Lady Price has severe dementia. She can’t travel or even leave the house, so Ian stays with her. They have two daughters, both married and living out of country.”

  “That’s awful,” I say. “Has anyone gone to check on them, see if they are alright or if they need anything?”

  “I believe the queen went before she passed, but I don’t know of anyone seeing them since then. They sent a letter of apologies for not being able to attend the coronation, I know that.”

  I shake my head, “Still. Aiden should send someone to visit them.”

  Liam smirks, “You should mention it. I’m sure he knows just the person.”

  “So what was the point of tonight?” I ask. “Was there some reason Aiden invited everyone to dinner?”

  With a shrug, Liam scoots his chair out and stands. “It’s polite to invite any nobles in residence to supper. Beyond that, I don’t know. Maybe he just wanted to see if you could handle yourself in the lion’s den.”

  I frown, “That doesn’t sound like something he’d do.”

  “You’re probably right. And as much as I’d love to stay and chat about it, I’m beat. You want me to walk you to your room?”

  The face I make is not a happy one.

  “What? I thought you’d be thrilled to be rid of me.”

  “It’s not that,” I say. “I’m used to having someone around, remember? First Liz, and then you. The room is very…quiet without you there.”

  “I’m flattered, and normally I’d be happy to crash on your couch, but its been a couple days and I need a bed.”

  “Well,” I say, hesitating.

  Liam lifts one eyebrow. “Well what?”

  “Well, what if I crashed on your couch? I don’t mean to invite myself, and if you want a night alone, I totally get it.”

  With a heavy sigh he holds a hand out to me. “Come on, let’s go get you some pajamas.”

  I clap, then take his hand.

  “Yay! Sleepover. We can stay up late, swapping manly stories, then in the morning,
I’m making waffles.”

  He lowers his chin, “Did you just make a Shrek reference?”

  I touch my chest with my free hand, “Liam. You speak my language.”

  “And what language is that, exactly?”

  “Song lyrics, movie quotes, and sarcasm mostly.”

  “Then yes, I’m fluent. Now, let’s go Donkey.”

  We’re almost to my room when I see a familiar face waiting for me outside my door. Liam drops my hand, “Sorry, you’re on your own with this. I’ll see you later.”

  Turning on his heel, he stalks off without looking back. Steeling myself, I walk up to her.

  “Lady St. Lauraunt, what a surprise. What can I do for you?”

  She flips a chunk of dark hair over her shoulder, “Genevieve, please. And I was hoping we could talk for a moment.”

  Opening my door, I motion for her to enter. “Of course.”

  She glances around the room. Honestly, I’d forgotten all about the roses but the pucker on her lips gives me a petty little thrill.

  “They are lovely,” she says, motioning to the nearest bouquet.

  “Yes, they are.”

  “A gift from the King?” she asks, her tone flat but not angry.

  “Yes.” No point in lying. She knows why I’m here by now. She’d probably known before we even met. I doubt much of anything happens here that she doesn’t know about—like the land deal. “Would you like to sit?” I ask, gesturing to the sofa. She nods, taking a seat and I take a spot in the chair across from her.

  “What’s on your mind, Genevieve?”

  Looking up at me, she sighs. “There’s something about you, and I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

  Her gaze makes me feel like a bug under a magnifying glass, but I force my expression to stay calm, my body language open. She’s a shark, I realize, sniffing for blood in the water.

  “I suppose Liam has told you all sorts of terrible things about me,” she says finally.

  My mouth twitches, “He’s not your biggest fan, to be sure.”

  “No doubt why he brought you here.”

  “It was part of the reason.”

  Leaning forward she crosses her legs, clasping her hands over one knee. “Tell me, why are you here? Why did you come?”

  “Does it matter?” I ask honestly. “I’m here, and I don’t plan on leaving.”

  “Motivation is important, don’t you think? Especially in such delicate matters.”

  “That’s fair,” I decide. “I came because I care about Aiden. We didn’t spend much time together, but the time we had showed me what a wonderful man he is. When Liam told me that Aiden was going to be forced to marry someone he doesn’t love, I came. I came to see if what we had might be something real. I came to offer him a choice.”

  She smirks, “So you’re a romantic. I was hoping it’s be about the money, at least then I could try to pay you to go.”

  “I’m sorry to disappoint.”

  “Don’t be,” she says, waving one hand. “This is better. At least I know your heart’s in the right place.”

  “For what, exactly?”

  “For the offer I’m about to make you. And I urge you not to dismiss it out of hand, but rather take some time to listen and consider,” she says, sitting back. “The truth is, and excuse me for being blunt, you aren’t qualified to be queen. I know it, you know it, and deep-down Aiden knows it too. I know this may be a difficult concept for an American to understand, but Aiden and I were raised with a certain sense of duty—of sacrifice. He and I are both devoted to this country and it’s well-being. A fact that takes precedence in all our decisions, even the ones that don’t bring us joy, personally.”

  She’s not wrong, but I can’t help the feeling as if I’m standing on the edge of a cliff, about to be pushed off. But I say nothing, and so she continues.

  “Because of this, Aiden—despite what his personal desires may be—will put the good of his country first. He will choose to make me queen.” Leaning forward again, she touches my leg. “This does not mean he doesn’t care for you, you understand. It is a matter of practicality. I’ve been trained for this since birth. And it’s not just about politics and royal etiquette, it’s about knowing this country, it’s history and it’s needs and its people. You don’t even know which duties fall under the prevue of the queen, how could you be expected to execute them? It’s unfair to expect so much of you.”

  I have to admit, I’m morbidly in agreement with her on that point. “What is your offer, Genevieve?”

  “It’s simple, really. Withdraw yourself from eligibility, and let me take the crown. In exchange, you can keep Aiden.”

  Sure I’ve misunderstood, I shake my head, “I’m sorry, what?”

  “Honestly, it’s a very common arrangement in royal marriages. Even Aiden’s father kept a mistress. It’s all done very discreetly, of course. But it allowed him to be with the person he wanted, while still doing his duty to his country by providing it with a worthy, capable queen.”

  I have to force myself not to laugh. “You’re asking me to be Aiden’s mistress?”

  “It’s a perfectly sensible compromise.”

  Leaning back, I fold my arms across my chest, processing her offer. She watches me expectantly. “You don’t have to decide right away, of course.”

  “Does Aiden know? About his father’s mistress?”

  She shrugs, “I have no idea, though I can’t imagine he wouldn’t it was an open secret. She was the daughter of a diplomat who served the King in France. He spent a great deal of time at her Villa in Cannes.”

  “And does he know you are making me this offer now?”

  Again, she waves dismissively, “Of course not. I doubt he’d want to hurt your feelings by suggesting such a thing outright. But I sensed that you were too clever to take offense.”

  “Oh, I’m not offended,” I say honestly. “I probably would be, if this was Aiden’s suggestion, or if he even knew you were making it.”

  “Another reason the queen’s position is so vital, men often lack the metal to make the difficult choices. That falls in the hands of women with the fortitude to accept a less than pleasant solution.”

  I sit forward, my elbow on my knee, my chin on my hand. “Here’s what I know. I know that you’re here because you’re desperate. If you truly believed that Aiden was going to choose you to be queen, you wouldn’t be wasting your time. I know that because you’re here, you don’t care about Aiden at all, and that you’d go to any length—do anything—to get your hands on that crown. And I know that’s exactly why you don’t deserve to wear it. And most importantly, I know that by refusing you now, you’re going to have no choice but to come at me with everything you’ve got.”

  I stand, folding my arms in front of me. “And I also know that when you do, no matter how hard you hit me, no matter what curve ball you throw, I’m going to beat you. Because American girls? We don’t break.”

  Standing, she smooths her skirt, shaking her head. “I’d really hoped you’d be more rational. We could have at least been allies, if not friends.”

  “The fact that you think that—that you’d be willing to live that way—makes me pity you. Because you’re never going to have even an ounce of what Aiden and I feel for each other. There’s too much bitterness inside you.”

  Flipping her hair, she strides to my door.

  “I will, you know. Come for you. I will break you, Haven.”

  I snort, “I’ve survived far worse, I promise you that. But if you want to go, we’ll go.”

  Once she’s gone, I stand there. Wishing I’d been able to come up with a better quip in the moment. “Bitch,” I mutter, heading for my dresser and grabbing a pair of pajamas.

  Brushing my hair, I pull it into a ponytail before scrubbing my teeth and padding back up the stairs to Liam’s hall.

  Pressing my lips together, I realize I have no idea which room is his. There’s a guard at the end of the hall, so I ask him for directio
ns.

  “Hey, can you tell me which room is Liam’s?”

  Frowning, he shakes his head. “I can’t ma’am. Security reasons.”

  “Right, royal floor. Got it. Ok, um,” I think for a second, then call out, “Marco?” as loud as I dare.

  The third door on the left pops open, “Polo,” Liam answers, sticking his head out and waving me over.

  I’m almost to his door when another door opens, this time Aiden leans out. I wave, just as Liam pulls me inside, waves to Aiden, then shuts the door.

  “Who else is down here?” I ask, immediately jealous of his new digs.

  The room is easily twice the size of mine, with a massive four post bed complete with draping damask curtains and one of those fancy headboards that looks like a gigantic crown hanging from the wall above. There’s also a full bar, two sofas and two chairs, a formal writing desk, closet, bathroom, and a small dining table.

  “Dang, Liam’s moving up in the world.”

  He grins, “You want a drink?”

  “Absolutely, you mix, I’m gonna go change.” With that I duck into his bathroom and slip out of my black dress and into my comfy pink bunny pajama pants and a rose-colored tank top. I toss the heels aside, wiggling the feeling back into my toes.

  Back in the sitting area, Liam waits, my drink on the table. Sitting, I eye the mug.

  “What did you make me?”

  “Something to help you sleep, buttered rum hot cocoa.”

  Taking a sip, I can’t help the purr of contentment I make at the taste. It’s warm and rich and chocolaty. Three of my favorite things.

  “Ok, spill it. What did the she-beast want?”

  I cradle my mug, curling my legs under me. “You’re going to love this. She offered to let me be Aiden’s mistress if I let her keep the crown.”

  If he’s shocked, it doesn’t show. “You didn’t punch her, did you? Because I’d be glad if you did, but you’d probably have some serious explaining to do.”

  “I seriously considered it.”

  “The offer or the punch?”

  “Both,” I say grinning over my mug. “She’s desperate. She knows she can’t keep me from becoming eligible. It was a smart play on her part. But you were right, she’s the actual devil. She did say something though, about Aiden’s father. Did he really have a mistress?”