To Love A Prince (True Blue Royal Book 1)

by Rachel Hauck

  * * *

  Gus

  Worst luck. Daffy wasn’t home. It was then he remembered she had a volunteer engagement. He’d forgotten, worst luck.

  And now she wasn’t answering her phone. What was the purpose of mobile communication if he couldn’t speak to the woman he loved whenever he wanted?

  Were his surprise visits always destined to fail?

  He called Ella. She didn’t know where Daffy had gone. Next he stopped by her parents’ home. Her mother didn’t know either. But she sniffed a lot and her eyes watered. When he asked if she was okay, she choked, nodded her head, and hugged him.

  Now he was late heading north. At a traffic light, he texted John.

  Stall Mum for me.

  Where are you? We looked for you all afternoon.

  On my way from Port Fressa. Came down to convince Daffy to attend the ball.

  Are you serious, mate? You’re going to be late for the photograph. And Daffy, the woman responsible for Mum’s humiliation? Think of us, will you? Someone besides yourself.

  She’s not responsible and you know it.

  Just get here. Other than my wedding, this is a big day for me and my little brother has gone mad.’

  Agree. Mad with love. Once again, he flew low over North One, aching for Daffy. Aching for the chance to share this glorious night with her.

  He’d spend the evening in the bachelors’ corner, dancing with old ladies who wore sensible shoes.

  No offense, Aunt Astrid and Lady Weatherby.

  * * *

  Daffy

  Five-fifteen. Daffy started for the door then turned back for the bag on the bed. With a shaky breath, she exited the butler’s room. Choko had turned her into a mini version of Coral Winthrop, which was fantastic, with her hair pinned up in swirls and braids and adorned with flowers. Her makeup had never been so flawless.

  The gown swirled and swished against her legs and sang to her, chiming to the rhythm of her Louboutin heels in the hall.

  When she whisked through the servants’ hall, someone whistled. Another wished her luck. Probably Miles. She burst into the glorious April sunset, the brilliance clinging to the edges of the advancing dusk.

  Prince Gus, the man she loved without reservation, would be waiting on the portico. She kicked into a run, but two steps in, the long grass caught her heels. She should’ve driven one of the carts like the queen suggested.

  But she wanted to run toward Gus. Wanted him to catch her up in his arms. Not help her out of a gardener’s cart.

  However, her plan was problematic. She’d free one shoe only to have the other one catch. Her next step landed her in a patch of damp dirt, and both heels sank up to the soles.

  With a growl, she kicked off her shoes, gathered the front of the skirt and ran, the bag swinging from her hand, her shoes from her fingertips. Up a slight incline toward the portico which rose on the horizon. But even from the distance, she could see Gus was not there. Nor was the rest of the family.

  “Gus?” She stepped on the cracked portico surface where a wide red runner had been stretched. “Your Majesty?” Had this all been a joke?

  She dropped her shoes on the concrete. Scanned the grounds and searched toward the small forest and down the other side. Acres and acres, much beyond her line of sight.

  “Gus!” He could be anywhere. Inside Hadsby, gone for a walk. Down to the Belly of the Beast to see Ernst. “Your Majesty? Prince John?”

  She didn’t want to believe it, but the queen had turned the tables. Instead of getting Gus, she was getting Daffy. But it didn’t make sense. Was the conversation in her flat a farce?

  One last visible sweep through dewy eyes, and Daffy dropped down to the porch, shoes by her feet, the bag containing a green Frisbee tossed to the red runner.

  * * *

  Gus

  “Where you’ve been?” Mum’s assistant met him outside his apartment. “They’re waiting for you.”

  “On an errand.”

  “Better have been a good one. Go. They’ve already taken the carts to the portico. Her Majesty is not pleased.”

  Nothing like being reprimanded by your mother’s secretary. He thudded down the secret stairs and out the side door, pushing through the hedge and around Hadsby’s high, ancient stone walls.

  Picking up his pace, he left Hadsby’s shadows and merged into the white gold light of a Dalholm sunset. His shoes slipped on the dewy grass. Nevertheless, he quickened his pace.

  The scene was beautiful and Gus conceded Mum’s need for a family portrait might be justified. But blast, why didn’t Daffy answer her phone? He must’ve called her five times on his way home. For the life of him, he couldn’t recall the event she was working.

  Coming around the northeast side of the castle, he spied the family on the portico, along with the waiting photographer.

  Gus picked up his pace. “Sorry I’m late.” When he got to the concrete-and-marble structure with its Greek columns, the family merely stared at him. “What? I’ve apologized for being late. Let’s do this.”

  “We’re waiting for one more.” Mum motioned to someone behind the column.

  Daffy came around, her bare feet sticking out from the hem of the blue gown. Mum’s blue gown. Sunlight laced through the swirls of her auburn hair.

  “I heard you needed a date for a very important ball. Also, I brought you this.” With a quick flip of her wrist, she flung a lime-green Frisbee straight for him. And he did not duck. The blame thing thunked him on the side of his head.

  “Gus!” She ran toward him. “Are you all right? You were supposed to—”

  He captured her in his arms and found her lips, savoring her touch, her presence, her surprise. Everything about her unlocked the rest of his freedom.

  Behind him the family serenaded them with catcalls, whistles, and applause. Still he refused to let her go. He kissed her again then, with a laugh that welled up from deep within him, he released her, only to twirl her around.

  “Surprise,” Daffy said.

  “I thought you weren’t coming.”

  “I made her keep the secret, especially since she’s so good at it. Next time, son, do not sit in my rare, valuable chair.”

  How good it felt to laugh. “Lesson learned.”

  Gus bent for the Frisbee and, with Daffy on his arm, turned to his family. “I know there’s more to the story, but let’s do this. Family photo. We’ve a wedding ball to attend.”

  Mum motioned for them to face the photographer, who hurried from behind a tree and across the grand lawn. Holland shivered with each gust of the wind, but Daffy, so beautifully flushed and blushed, cradled next to Gus, warm and smiling.

  She stunned his heart.

  The photographer was useless getting them to pose normally, so with each couple standing askew, laughing, the photographer captured the present and future House of Blue.

  The image from that day was framed and hung in Perrigwynn Palace’s main hall. It was that year’s House of Blue Christmas card. And in time, the most favored photo of the family as well as the public.

  Everyone was happy and in love, as was only right and true in the hamlet of Dalholm, where love bloomed like flora and fauna. Where Emmanuel walked among them. God with us.

  “He’s a true prince. His Royal Highness Prince Gus lands on his feet in love. More after this.”

  –Stone Brubaker, the Morning Show

  “Okay, is Daffodil Caron not the cutest? I love her for the prince.”

  –Loyal Royals Blog

  “Daffodil Caron attended the ball in the same gown the queen wore for her twenty-first birthday bash. I think we’re going to see a lot of her in the future.”

  –@RoyalWatcherOne

  “The Morning Show announced a new royal reporter, Melissa Faris. Leslie Ann Parker will join the police report every morning at six.”

  –The News Leader

  Let’s end here…

  Daffy

  June

  She ran with Gus down
the familiar path toward the trees, the summer leaves lush and green, through the gate and down the cobblestones of Centre Street.

  Since their portico kiss, they’d fallen completely, unreservedly in love. With each other and Emmanuel. What a cool chap, this Lord of all, God with us.

  She’d landed a fantastic position at CCW Cosmetics as their corporate curator. Finding something in common, Coral and Daffy interviewed one another as they passed on the ballroom floor, sharing questions and answers back and forth, as they twirled and turned. Most unusual interview ever, but after a phone conference with Coral’s CEO, Lexa, Daffy was hired the next week.

  She flew to New York in May to meet the staff and learn the history of her new employer as well as develop curating ideas. She’d work out of the Port Fressa office with trips to New York as needed to launch the final project.

  Gus arrived the last week of her trip to play a bit of tourist and attend church with the Mayses.

  They dined with Chuck and Coral that evening, talking well into the night about faith and God, trust and love, forgiveness, and Gus and Daffy’s literal sighting of Emmanuel.

  But now they were on a weekend holiday at Hadsby with the family.

  “This way.” Gus grabbed her hand and led her down Wells Line toward Canal. He’d been busy too, launching new charitable initiatives in concert with tech corporations and working with schools to teach about health, love, and faith.

  And the Frisbee? Framed. Hanging in his office.

  He was also becoming an uncle. Prince John and Lady Holland had secured the next heir to the throne. Due sometime in late January, early February.

  That’s why they were gathered at Hadsby. To celebrate.

  Gus drew Daffy into the Belly of the Beast. “Ernst.”

  Did the chap ever leave? Ever take a holiday?

  “Yer Maj! Princess.” He came around the bar with his thick arms wide, embracing them without reservation.

  “Sit. Stella!”

  “Later, I promise.” Gus smiled. “We’re on our way somewhere.”

  Daffy looked around at him. “We are? I thought this was our destination.”

  “I had another in mind. But wanted to pop in to say hi to Ernst and Stella. Have you seen Emmanuel lately?”

  “Here and there. Dom Watson lost his wife of sixty-seven years last month. Came in here to drown his sorrows. Emmanuel sat with him all night. He was a real comfort. Dom’s actually traveling to see his kids.”

  “Give our love to Dom. Hope we see him while we’re here.”

  “Wait a minute.” Daffy stepped around Gus. “Ernst, you just spoke in whole sentences.”

  Ernst huffed. “My friend, I’ve a degree from Haxton. Do you think I was born in this pub?”

  Now that was the surprise of all surprises. Astounded and laughing, Daffy dashed from the Belly with Gus and down the steps to the quay.

  She pulled him to a stop. “We’re climbing to the Hand of God?”

  “Why do you think I told you to wear boots?” Gus grinned. “I wanted to see the view on a summer day.”

  She raced ahead of him to the footbridge, no longer afraid of heights and of the perilous climb. Love was with her. This time she led Gus up the steep climb to the cleft in the rocks.

  “Keep your eyes on me.” Her words were bold. “Don’t look—”

  “To the right or the left. Don’t look down.” Gus’s hand rested on the middle of her back. “You lead, I’ll follow.”

  The summer growth covered large portions of the path. Daffy led Gus over a fallen branch, under a trunk growing out of the cliff, around rocks, climbing higher and higher.

  But this time the sun had warmed the breeze. As Daffy grabbed onto a tree branch to pull herself to the next level, the spectacular view of the calm sea-blue water widened before her, meeting the blue horizon at some faraway point.

  At last they broke into the clearing and stepped into the nook known as the Hand of God. The grass was long and lush, woven with wildflowers.

  “It’s like our own personal garden.” Gus turned a half circle.

  “When we’re here, I think it is.”

  “I climbed up when I visited last week.” He took her hand, pulling her alongside him. “I sat with my legs over the side for the better part of two hours. Just thinking and well, praying.”

  “What did you think and pray about?”

  “You. Me. Our lives. How when we first climbed up you were terrified and brokenhearted about Thomas. When I thought I was all cool and Coral, but I wasn’t. Didn’t even realize the truth until she curtsied in front of me and said, ‘Your Royal Highness.’”

  “We’ve returned here as slightly different people. Not arrived, but on our way.”

  “On our way. Yes.” He reached in his pocket and slowly bent to one knee. “Your first proposal was a surprise in a loud, noisy pub with everyone watching and a ring intended originally for another. So what I hope to be your second—and last—proposal comes with you standing in a quiet garden on top of the world, only the seagulls and God watching. The ring I’m offering was purchased with you and just you in mind. It’s not even from the Family vault. I shopped, alone, and selected a ring that most reflected your heart.” Gus lifted the lid to reveal a diamond set in platinum surrounded by sapphires, rubies, and emeralds. “The sapphires for your eyes, the rubies for your hair, the emerald for the life of your heart.”

  “Gus, I—” Her tears spoke a better word.

  “Daffodil Daisy Caron, will you marry me?”

  “Yes, of course, I’ll marry you.” She dropped to her knees in front of him, not caring at all about the soggy wetness. “Finally I’ll be able to write the true tales of My Life with the Prince by Daffodil Caron, House of Blue.”

  “Her Royal Highness, Princess Daffodil.” He slipped the ring on her finger, then raised her up, cupped her face in his hands, and sealed their pledge with a kiss.

  They stayed in the cleft for a long time, talking, dreaming, planning. Kissing. She liked the idea of an October wedding after all.

  When they climbed down and walked hand in hand up the quay steps, motors honked, people called out their names. They paused to wave and give by passers a quick photo op.

  “How about one of Stella’s meat pies and chips?” Gus pointed to the pub.

  “Food. Good.”

  With a laugh, he grabbed her to him and kissed her temple. “I love you.”

  “You’d better. With all your heart.” Then something stirred in Daffy. As they started up Canal, she looked back, toward the Hand of God and there, on top of the rocks, stood Emmanuel, his long anorak flapping in the breeze.

  He raised a single hand in wave, then stepped down and disappeared.

  And Daffy knew. She was more than an ordinary girl and Emmanuel was the reason why.

  Being married to a royal would have its ups and downs, but with Emmanuel, God with us, she’d never be alone.

  “Ernst will be over the moon I finally made you my princess.”

  “You know, I think he already knew. Emmanuel probably told him.”

  Gus paused outside the pub and took her in his arms. “I’m never going to let you go.”

  “Nor I you.”

  His kiss lingered, and when he opened the door to the pub, following Daffy inside, he called out, “Ernst. Princess. Finally! Chips on me. Stella!”

  The End

  Thank you to…

  Kristen Painter and Leigh Duncan. Let’s see where the fairytale leads. Your friendship and counsel are treasures.

  Robbi Grey for brainstorming Prince Gus and Daffy’s “meet cute.”

  Erin Healy for reading the first, very ugly draft. As always, your editorial skills put me on the right path.

  Susie May, whom I called after every scene toward the end. “Okay, now where do I go? How about…”

  Beth Vogt for combing through this story line by line and all the brainstorming in between. Above all for your faithful friendship.

  Barbara Cur
tis for additional, fabulous line edits and proofing. Lianne March and Lisa Jordan for stellar proofing. Any remaining mistakes are mine.

  Amy Atwell for brilliant production support.

  Kristen Ingebretson for the gorgeous cover.

  Louise Lee for the fabulous audio edition. I’m glad we met.

  Debb Hackett for being so kind and patient when I messaged constantly about British terms. While Lauchtenland is a made-up country, I wanted a British feel. In the end, the language is a blend of American and British, but Debb kept me straight on the British way.

  My husband for saying yes to this writing journey with its ups and downs, twists and turns. Much love to you always!

  To all the readers who asked for more royals, thank you for inspiring me! I hope you love Prince Gus and Daffodil Caron as much as I do.

  Author Note

  When Emmanuel made his appearance in this story, I knew he represented the supernatural breaking into the natural. As with all my stories, there is some element from “beyond the veil.”

  It took many rewrites to discover what he wanted to say. When I came up with the idea for the Hand of God, the cleft in the rock, I knew the spiritual theme of the story was God’s love. While writing it out plainly would make the story preachy, I tried to let the thread speak for itself. Read Song of Solomon 2:14 and see what you think.