Darcy laughed. “Maybe you can find a little pacifier to plug in my mouth while you’re at it, just to ensure your evil plot will work.”
Alastair gave him a wink. “First a nap, then you’ll be ready to take over the empire.”
“One thing at a time, dear uncle. One thing at a time.”
Chapter Eight
CAROLINE couldn’t help but feel happier after a decent sleep—who couldn’t rest peacefully if they hadn’t a care in the world while enveloped in one of those massive down comforters and bedding with a thread count of about a bazillion? It was like sleeping on a bed of marshmallow crème, minus the stickiness. Throw in a long soak in a Jacuzzi tub, and she was ready to face the world. She was just drying her hair when she heard a knock on the door.
“It’s about time you surfaced from the dead!” Emma said as she blazed her way into the bedchamber, wearing a teal sundress that perfectly flattered her hazel eyes and chestnut hair. “We’ve got lots on the schedule, so let’s motivate already!”
Caroline mocked Emma’s chatter with her fingers. “Give it a break,” she said. “After all that first-class travel, a girl’s gotta catch up on her beauty sleep. It’s hard work wining and dining at thirty thousand feet.”
Emma laughed. “Yes, I know. You are to be pitied. But I have someone I want you to meet, so let’s get cracking. You’re frittering away a perfectly gorgeous day.” She drew the heavy damask curtains back to reveal brilliant sunshine and a clear blue sky.
Caroline’s stomach growled. “Please tell me there’s food involved.”
“Cook’s holding your breakfast downstairs. Which you might want to eat before it’s officially lunchtime. Especially since we will be dining at my favorite bistro.”
“Sounds like a perfect day: breakfast, directly followed by lunch. Hopefully immediately followed by a big dinner with lots of wine to top it all off.”
“You and your hummingbird metabolism,” Emma said, shaking her head. “Some of us have to fit into a wedding gown.” She immediately covered her mouth with both hands. “Oh my God. I didn’t mean that like it sounded.”
Caroline waved at her dismissively. “Please, Em. We’ve been friends long enough. I think you can reinforce in conversation with me that you’re getting married and I won’t get upset. I mean, I’d have to be a really selfish git to be anything but elated for you.”
“I know,” Emma said. “I just feel badly that the whole Darcy affair fizzled so resoundingly. I’m usually so good at detecting a winning relationship, and you two seemed so well connected.”
“Affair is clearly the operative word. So it was a fling. I’m a fling kinda gal, so it’s okay. I mean sure, he was cute, and sure, he was nice, and yeah, he was fun and, all right, fine. I really liked him—”
“And I swear you haven’t really hankered for a boy as much since that kid you crushed on in fourth grade. That is until you saw him eating rubber cement in art class. What was his name?”
“Jerry. Jerry Albright. Yeah, eating rubber cement balls was a total deal breaker. I’m sure I’ve liked a guy since then, though.”
“Well, there was Eddie—the guy from the marching band.”
“Of course. He played the tuba. And kissed like he was playing the tuba. Next!”
“I’ll give you a pass on that guy. Bad kissing is always the end of a happily-ever-after.”
“What about Marty?” Caroline said. “I think we can call that a legitimate relationship.”
“Caro,” Emma said. “I distinctly remember you hiding in your locker at school to avoid him. And I think that was after maybe two dates.”
“And we won’t even touch on my succession of ever-so-brief flings in college. Okay, so I’m not one to pursue permanence with anyone from the opposite sex. Is that such a bad thing?”
Emma shrugged. “You’re talking to the wrong girl. I wasn’t exactly setting fire to the dating scene. I was perfectly content to not ever date. Well, most of the time. Except it did get boring. Especially because you were always busy with some new man, so that left me with no social life, damn you.”
“That’s me: revolving door of the romance world.”
“Yeah, but I would argue that’s entirely by choice.”
“So maybe it is, but the one time I decide to give it a go, look what happens. Serves me right.”
“I don’t know what’s going on Caro, but once Adrian gets back we’ll get to the bottom of this. In the meantime, let’s get you fed and head out to our busy day. I can’t wait for you to meet Gareth.”
~*~
“Do you think you’ll ever tire of being chauffeured everywhere?” Caroline asked as they were ushered into the back of yet another fancy vehicle. “I cannot wait until your wedding because I can only imagine what you’re going to be transported in that day. Maybe they’ll carry you in a litter, like Cleopatra.”
Emma burst out laughing. “That would be hilarious. But not so much, maybe, to Adrian’s mother. I think it’ll be something more traditional.”
“Like a carriage?”
Emma nodded. “Like a carriage.”
“Pulled by mice turned into horses?”
“Oh, stop.”
“Well? Something’s got to pull it. Sled dogs? Mules? Oxen? Or maybe hitch it up to a pickup truck like you would a horse trailer. Or how about those huge recreational vehicles the snowbird retirees pull their little cars behind when they head south for the winter? You’d be the first princess ever to do that. A little nod to your American roots!”
“Yeah, we’ll work on that.”
The car drove through center of Porto Castello, a charming, small port city that opened onto sparkling Mediterranean waters, interrupted only by the brilliant white of boat sails. The architecture was charming and very Old European, with many half-timbered houses festooned with flowerboxes overflowing with periwinkle, magenta, and buttery-yellow flowers.
“This place is right out of a dollhouse fantasy,” Caroline said. “It’s just about perfect.”
“Sometimes I have to just shake my head to be sure I’ve not dreamed this all up. It really is perfect, from the heir to the throne right on down to the gardeners who maintain the botanical gardens.”
“Yeah, well, my botanical garden would kick your botanical garden’s ass any day.” Caroline winked at her friend. “Even though the extent of my garden is a well-tended poinsettia plant left over from last Christmas that I feel the need to keep alive even though I should have trashed it ages ago.”
“I know, right? Here I am boasting of botanical gardens when I never even planted a flat of pansies before. Weird how quickly things changed.”
“All for the good.” Caroline reached out and gave Emma’s hand a supportive squeeze.
As the car skirted farther away from the city, the landscape yielded to countryside with pristine, rolling, green hills peppered with tan-and-white cows that Caroline thought were likely to be the happiest cows on the planet—how could they not be in this idyllic setting?
“Listen to this,” Emma said as she lowered the window.
All they could hear as they passed the bovines was the magical symphony of cowbells clanging a lulling tune.
“That is amazing,” Caroline said. “I could so just fall asleep around a bunch of cowbells and be at peace with the world.”
“As long as you’re not lying near any cow pies,” Emma added.
“Yeah, that goes without saying. But please, don’t taint my happy-place visualization by adding cow dung to the picture! Here I was getting all Zen in my head.”
She was going to keep razzing Emma, but the car pulled through a gatehouse and into a walled estate, then meandered along a tree-lined drive for about three quarters of a mile before coming to what would soon be Emma’s new home.
“Holy crap. Is this a home or a small city-state?”
The two-story, sixteen-room, Georgian-style brick country house, complete with charming dormers peeking out from the pantile roof, was surrounded
by a grove of flowering cherry trees and beds upon beds of seasonal blossoms. To the left were tennis courts, to the right, a garden maze.
“This,” Emma said, her arms extended wide, “will be our new home. Beats my little suburban split-level, eh?”
“You think? I’ve just counted eight chimneys. Will you have fires burning in all those fireplaces at one time? You’ll spend your days running from room to room, replenishing firewood. It’ll be your exercise—you’ll never have to go to the gym again. Although you probably have a full gym in the basement.”
“I’ll worry about that when the time comes. And yes, there is a gym,” Emma said, shaking her head in a “can you believe it” way as the car came to a halt on the white-pebbled driveway. “I’m thinking of calling it Girasole.”
“Giraffe-olé what?” Caroline said, scratching her head.
“Girasole. It means sunflower in Italian. I think it’s pretty. And this place reminds me of a warm summer flower,” Emma said. “Come on.” She tugged on her friend’s hand as the driver opened the door for them. “I want to show you the place!”
~*~
The house was so large it took nearly an hour to see it all as Emma pointed out things she wanted to fix in the place and Caroline got excited with decorating ideas. It was like being asked to be a stylist for a supermodel, so how hard could it be when you were starting out with good bones? Much tougher if it were a shack on the side of a highway. Caroline took loads of notes and pictures with her phone so that she could better sketch out her ideas once back at the palace.
Just as they were preparing to leave, they heard someone outside.
“Knock knock!” A handsome man with wavy butterscotch hair and warm brown eyes poked his head in the front door.
“Great security system you have here,” Caroline said to Emma.
“Gareth is the keeper of the keys,” Emma said. “He can bypass all that. Please allow me to introduce you two. Caroline, this is Gareth, my protocol advisor and master of all things royal.”
Gareth reached out a well-manicured hand to Caroline. “I finally meet the best friend!”
“And I, it seems, my European counterpart,” Caroline said as she grabbed his hand, smiling.
Gareth reached out and touched the tips of Caroline’s hair. “Emma told me about this hair. It’s even more gorgeous than I’d heard.”
Caroline pointed a thumb toward Gareth. “The man knows how to woo me.”
Emma laughed. “He just has good taste. Trust me, he’s got it in spades.”
Caroline gave him a once-over, from his well-coiffed head to his muted, oyster-colored poplin suit, creamy oxfords, and dotted bow tie. Clearly he had a command of style.
“So are you here to give me a protocol transplant? Or are you the one with the vision, and I’m going along with the program?”
Emma shook her hands to erase any confusion. “No, no, you’ve got it wrong. Not having turf wars at all! Gareth just loves this stuff. He’s got such a good eye.”
“What say we make it a collaborative effort?” he said. “That is if I can take my eyes off that head of hair.” He winked at Caroline.
“Hey. I’m just along for the ride,” Caroline said. “You guys say the word and your wish is my command.”
“In that case, my first command is lunch,” Emma said. “I’m famished.”
“Aye, aye, your future highness,” Caroline said while Emma threw her a sharp glance.
“Don’t say those things yet!” she said, putting her finger to her lips.
“Ack! Clearly I’m in need of protocol intervention. Let’s get to lunch so Gareth can have his way with me.”
They grabbed each other’s hands and headed out for a relaxing waterside luncheon.
Chapter Nine
EDOUARDO and Darcy paced the small hospital room like prisoners awaiting a verdict.
Their sister Clementine sat in a corner, randomly stabbing a needle into her latest needlepoint project, a distraction from the reality that had overtaken the room like a poisonous gas settling over them all. Their mother, Lady Charlotte, stood by their father, her hands clasping his weak one.
“It’s time for your final good-bye,” a doctor who had just finished checking Lord Hubert’s vital statistics said. “His time is near.”
Lady Charlotte choked back tears. She motioned for her children to gather on either side of their father’s bed while they all crossed arms, tenting themselves over him.
Each took turns whispering their last words to their beloved father and husband, amidst alternating gasping sobs.
Darcy leaned over and spoke quietly into his father’s ear as his father’s labored breathing slowed yet more and his body fought for air. “I’ll struggle to serve your legacy well enough, Dad,” he said, a steady stream of his tears landing on the side of his father’s face. “But I swear to you I will do you proud. Of that you can be certain. No more living a frivolous life. I am committed to ensuring that all you’ve worked for will survive and thrive.” He reached around and hugged his father, resting a final kiss on his cheek.
Within minutes his father’s breathing ceased, and the room fell silent but for the quiet sobs of the family members.
Darcy enveloped his mother in a tight hug, rocking gently as she cried into his shoulder.
“It’s not fair,” she said over and over again. “It’s just not fair.”
“I know, Mum,” Darcy said. “But life’s not fair. We can’t control this, but we can do our best with this adversity we’ve been dealt and move on in the way Dad would want us to.”
“Yes, you’re right,” she said, wiping her eyes with a handkerchief. “You’re right. It’s just... hard.”
“Of course it is,” he said. “It can’t not be. But I’ll be here every step of the way. I promise you’ll have my undivided attention as we get through this. I made a commitment to my father, and I will fulfill it no matter what.”
“Promise?” she said. “I haven’t the slightest idea how to deal with everything now that your father’s gone, so I’ll need your help.”
“That’s why I’m here,” Darcy said, raking his hands through his hair, the significance of his father’s legacy weighing, leaden, on his head.
~*~
Darcy sat in his father’s study, surrounded by leather and centuries-old bound books and Lord knew how many files upon files about which he understood very little but with which he’d soon need to acquaint himself intimately. He got up, poured another scotch for himself and sank back into the leather club chair long ago imprinted with the shape of his father. So much for filling the man’s shoes; he was going to fill his seat first. Every time Darcy tried to wrap his brain around what to do next, he just shook his head to clear out the confusion and kept wishing that Adrian was back from his Asian tour. He hadn’t wanted to bother Adrian; he knew his schedule was filled with meetings and dinners and receptions from the minute he awoke until he went to sleep. But he also knew that he would be there for Adrian under similar circumstances and that Adrian would be angry to know Darcy hadn’t enlisted his support when he needed it most. He pulled his mobile phone from his breast pocket and dialed Adrian’s personal line.
It took several rings before his friend answered. “Darce? You okay? It’s the middle of the night, man!” His voice was raspy with sleep.
“Sorry, mate,” Darcy said. “I really apologize for waking you. But I knew you’d want to know.” He fought back tears, not wanting to cry anymore, and certainly not in front of another man, not even his closest friend.
“God, no, Darcy, not your father? Has he gotten worse?”
Darcy could no longer stanch the flow of his tears and spoke through intermittent gasps. “We lost him. He’s gone.”
“Why didn’t you call me sooner?” Adrian said. “I’d have been back for you immediately. You know that! I had no idea he was that sick.”
Darcy nodded. “Of course I knew that. But what was the point? There was nothing you could do, and I
know you’re busy.”
Adrian sighed loudly. “Jesus, Darce. You need a friend; you have a friend. You just need to let your friend know he’s needed, dammit.”
Darcy was quiet for a minute or two as he took a swig of his drink. “You’re needed, Ade.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can get out of here. That’s what friends are for. In the meantime, hang in there.”
“Nothing else I can do,” Darcy said, resting his feet on the nearby leather footstool. “Not a bloody damned thing.”
Chapter Ten
“SO all this time I haven’t heard from Darcy because his father has been dying?” Caroline said, her voice elevating in slight annoyance as she spoke. “Like he was incapable of reaching out to me for some support when he likely needed it most? Huh. I guess I didn’t mean much of anything to him if he couldn’t enlist me for solace, if nothing else.”
Emma rubbed her friend’s arm to calm her down. “Let’s not get your knickers in a twist, Caro,” she said. “I’m sure Darcy has his reasons. This is a hard thing for a man to deal with. I’m sure he was busy trying to keep it together for his family.”
In her indignation, Caroline was making the bed just a little too harshly, tugging abruptly on her sheets and fluffing her pillow like it was a sparring partner.
“Yeah, but that’s what girlfriends and boyfriends do for each other. They’re there in their darkest times.”
“First off, you really don’t need to make your bed. You know they’re going to just come in and make it better as soon as you leave the room.”
“I know that, but it just feels like I’m being useful.”
“Understood. But perhaps you can be most useful if you focus on being empathetic. We don’t know what Darcy has been facing. We don’t know how hard it’s been for him,” Emma said. “After all, he didn’t even reach out to Adrian after he’d mentioned his father was hospitalized, and Adrian’s his best friend. Adrian left for his trip, and we all promptly forgot about it, I guess just presuming he’d gotten better and returned home. Oh, and secondly, I think I heard you say something there about girlfriends and boyfriends.”
Heir Today, Gone Tomorrow Page 4