The Anti-Cinderella Conquers the World

by Tawdra Kandle

  “It’s shitty, Kyra. You’re entitled to be hurt. But you also need to realize that as stupid as my brother can be, he’d never look at another woman, no matter what. Even if she was strutting around the bar completely nude. He loves you—you’re the only person in the world for him.”

  “I don’t have any doubts about Nicky’s fidelity. But at the moment, I’m seriously questioning his judgement. He knows better.” I stomped my foot, sending a fine spray of water in every direction. “If I had done something like this, everyone in the world would be shaking their heads, going on about the idiot American who doesn’t know how to do anything right. But Nicky’s supposed to be smart. He was born into this. What the hell was he thinking?”

  Alex sniffed. “He’s a man. God only knows where his brain was.” She paused for a moment. “Did he . . . say anything?”

  “No.” I bit off the word. “He called early this morning on his way to . . . I don’t even know. Wherever he’s going this weekend, for some international symposium about the UN resolution to preserve farmland.” I shrugged. “He said there was going to be a story in the papers, and people would be talking. He said he hadn’t done anything wrong. According to him, one of the women Hector had invited managed to smuggle in a phone and took pictures. They didn’t know until it was too late.”

  “Why didn’t he come home and talk to you in person?” Alex voiced one of the questions that had been niggling at my heart all morning. “He could’ve delayed his trip by an hour or so.”

  “Because our brother is a moron.” Daisy trotted up to us, moving to my other side and taking my arm. “Clearly. He has the most wonderful wife in the world, and he’s acting like a complete twit.”

  “Thank you.” I felt a modicum better walking between these two stalwart women. “But I don’t want to come between both of you and Nicky. You’re family.”

  “And so are you, Ky.” Daisy leaned in and kissed my cheek. “It’s sometimes easy to forget in the midst of all the other nonsense that comes with marrying into this dynasty, but we really are family, and that means you’re stuck with us.”

  “She’s absolutely right. All for one and one for all.” Alex hugged my arm. “We stick together.”

  I sniffled. “You’re both sweet. I couldn’t ask for any better bonus sisters.”

  “Bonus sisters.” Alex laughed. “I like that.” She gave an all-over body shiver and glanced at me sideways. “Do you possibly feel like you could continue to be supported by us inside, perhaps with a nice cup of tea and some delicious biscuits? It’s positively biting out here.”

  I nodded. “Sure. And bonus points if the biscuits are chocolate.”

  “You’re in luck—they are.” Alex tugged at my arm. “Let’s go before I freeze off any crucial body parts.”

  As it turned out, Alex’s definition of a nice cup of tea included a healthy splash of brandy. Very soon, we were all feeling quite a bit warmer.

  “The truth is, it’s not just the pictures,” I admitted. I was laying across one of Alex’s very proper wing chairs, my feet dangling off one of the arms. “Something’s been up with Nicky for a while now. He’s not telling me everything. It’s making me nuts.”

  To my surprise, Alex agreed. “You’re not imagining it. Jake told me the other day that he’d accidentally overheard the end of a conversation between Nicky and our father. Jake said it didn’t make much sense to him, but the discussion was definitely tense. He asked me if I knew what they might’ve been talking about, but of course, I don’t.”

  “I asked Nicky. I don’t like to play around—if you haven’t noticed, subtlety really isn’t my strong suit.”

  Across the room, Daisy turned a snort into a cough, while Alex merely smiled and tilted her head. “Isn’t it? I hadn’t noticed.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence, ladies.” I rolled my eyes. “Anyway, he didn’t say he wasn’t hiding anything, but he definitely changed the subject quickly.” I dropped my head and groaned. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “I might not have long-term answers, Ky, but I have a perfect idea for this weekend.” Daisy sat up and clasped her hands, her eyes sparkling. “I’m going to a weekend house party in Warminster. It’s going to be so much fun. Come with me.”

  Before the words were out of her mouth, I was shaking my head. “Oh, Daisy, that’s sweet, but I couldn’t. I don’t want to crash a party—especially not this weekend.”

  “But it’s not that kind of party, Ky,” Daisy insisted. “Not at all stuffy. Half the people there won’t have been properly invited. It’s more of a bring a friend and come for a laugh sort of thing. You won’t be out of place. I promise.”

  Alex frowned. “But they have to give a guest list to the Palace, so that our security can do background checks. You’re not forgetting that, are you, Daisy?”

  The younger princess waved her hand. “Of course not. The protection officers wouldn’t let me go if they weren’t in touch with the Viscount—he and his wife are our hosts.”

  “I don’t want people staring at me and whispering,” I confessed. “I don’t think I’m quite in the mood to have a stiff upper lip yet.”

  Daisy laughed. “Kyra, I assure you, no one there will even think about whispering. The sort of thing you’re talking about doesn’t occur to this crowd as a problem. They’re good people. Accepting. Non-judgmental.”

  As if she sensed me wavering, she went in for the kill. “The house where they’re having the party is old. It’s historical—actually, the owner is in the middle of working out all the restorations right now. He’ll even give us a tour if you show the slightest bit of interest in things that are ancient and musty.”

  Alex added, “Viscount Weymouth is a lovely man, Kyra. You’ll like him. And his wife is quite nice, too.”

  “Say you’ll go with me,” Daisy begged. “I won’t be able to enjoy myself if I’m worried about you sitting alone in the cottage all weekend, and Alex is going to Paris on a romantic weekend with Jake. Neither of us will be able to have a good time if you stay home while we’re off having fun.”

  I had to admit that the thought of the weekend stretching before me, lonely and empty, was not a fun prospect. With just the slightest bit of trepidation, I gave in.

  “All right, all right, I’ll go. Geez, you two and the guilt trips.” I shook my head. “You’re worse than my mom.”

  “It’s only because we love you, Ky.” Daisy jumped up and came over to hug me. “Now, go home and pack. I’ll be around to pick you up by three.”

  I hesitated. “Do I need to clear this with security and the palace?”

  “No.” Daisy grinned. “It’s not official. It’s just fun. I’ll let them know at the Palace office. Your security officer will come along, too. We’ll be very safe and so low-key that we’ll be positively boring.” She drew an X over her heart. “I promise.”

  Of all the very British things that I’d done since linking my life to a member of its Royal Family, attending a house party felt like the most English of them all. As someone who’d grown up reading historical romances set during the Regency period, I had very specific images in my mind about what a grand house party would be like. And as we motored onto the estate that Friday evening, I wasn’t disappointed: the long, curved drive was canopied by massive trees, and the manor house loomed grandly. But inside, somehow the home managed to be cozy and warm instead of lofty and off-putting.

  The Viscount and his wife welcomed us with what seemed to be genuine gladness, not blinking when they saw their extra guest. I knew that Daisy had called ahead to let them know that she would be bringing me, but still, it was gratifying to feel so wanted. The couple was, I judged, ten years or so older than Daisy, in their early to mid-thirties. The Viscount opened the door himself, wearing old jeans and a sweater that had seen better days, while his wife wore a more traditional tweed skirt and twin set.

  “Welcome, ladies. How wonderful to see you both!” After performing the required curtsies, she hugged
Daisy and offered me her hand. “I’m Margot Hammond. Lovely to meet you at last.”

  “Thank you for having me at the last minute.” I smiled. “Your home is amazing.”

  “Oh, thank you.” She waved one hand around. “It’s all in progress, as my husband says. Progress means that once we finish one section, another needs fixing. But that’s the way with old homes, isn’t it?”

  “Now aren’t you glad you came?” Daisy’s voice had a little bit of the I-told-you-so element, and I was tempted to demonstrate for her the same dance that I’d shown Nicky a few days before.

  Now I stood at the window of the room we were sharing and gazed out onto the gardens below. Even in autumn’s grayness, the ornamental shrubbery and trees held a certain beauty. I could only imagine how exquisite they must have been in spring time, with the extraordinary splashes of color. I turned from the window and sighed.

  “Well, it’s better than sitting alone at the cottage brooding. Although I’m going to warn you that I may not be the best company. I hope that no one here finds me boring.”

  Daisy laughed. “I told you before that no one is judgmental in this crowd, and I meant it. There aren’t expectations of witty conversation or knowledge of issues or anything like that. We’re all just ourselves, which is why I feel as though I can fit it in here with these friends. I fit here better than I can anywhere else.”

  I walked across the room to give my sister-in-law a quick hug. “Daisy, you fit in everywhere,” I told her. “I’ve never known anyone with such a big heart and a loving spirit. Everyone adores you.”

  She glanced at me wryly. “Sometimes in my family I feel like the cocker spaniel of the group. A lot of fun, maybe, but not much substance.”

  I sat down on the edge of my bed and regarded her thoughtfully. “Family roles are difficult,” I admitted. “Sometimes it’s hard for people to see us beyond who we were when we were eight or fourteen or even twenty. It takes time to show the people who love us that we can grow. That we can change.”

  Daisy nodded. “That’s it exactly. So often I feel as though I’m still the little sister Alex and Nicky can’t quite take seriously. I know that if I want them to see me as a grown-up, I need to start doing all the boring, mundane things that they do. But I would hate that life. I wish that there was a way to do something serious and important, and yet still have fun.”

  I laughed. “I think you just described the frustration that we all feel, growing up and deciding how to spend our lives. Welcome to the club, Daisy.”

  “You seem to love what you do,” she objected. “And your life doesn’t seem quite so boring as the others.”

  “Thank you… I think.” I chuckled.

  “You’re welcome. Although I don’t think I’m cut out for sitting in an office for hours on end. It would make me want to strangle myself. Or strangle the person who came in and told me what I needed to do next.” She closed the small suitcase that she had been emptying and shoved it into a closet before turning to me, her eyes bright.

  “All right. Enough of the serious talk. Let’s go downstairs. Everyone’s meeting for cocktails in the lounge, and I don’t want to miss out on that. Neither do you—trust me.”

  By Saturday evening, I was both more relaxed and more frustrated. As far as I could, I had enjoyed everything we had done this weekend: the long walks through the fields and forests with groups of women and men who were friendly and unassuming, plenty of interesting conversations, and food that was plentiful and delicious. It was just as Daisy had promised me; everyone I’d met was genuinely kind, and no one had so much as glanced at me with pity or speculation. No one had mentioned the pictures of my husband that were probably still making the rounds on the tabloids.

  And yet I couldn’t shake a sense of sadness. I missed Nicky with a keen sharpness that surprised even me. I’d sent him a quick text before we left London to let him know that I was going away for the weekend with Daisy, although I was sure that the security officers would have let him know before then. He had responded with a simple and terse okay.

  I hated where we were now. I hated that I felt frustrated by his lack of communication. I hated that I felt as though I had behaved immaturely during our conversation on the way home from the ceremony at the garden. And I hated that we had given each other the silent treatment for the hours between then and his departure for the stag night.

  I thought about the months when we’d lived so far apart, on different continents with an ocean between us. In those days, I’d yearned for the ability to simply turn to him, to talk to him, no matter when it was or where we were. And now that we lived together, and I had everything I’d ever dreamed of, I was squandering it, and I couldn’t explain why. I wished that Nicky was at the party with me, that we could relax and enjoy ourselves and be what we’d always been: just Nicky and Ky, in love.

  After dinner on Saturday, the Viscount and his wife threw an informal dance party, inviting several people from the nearby village to join us. A group of musicians who usually played the local pub on weekend nights had been enlisted to perform for us in the garden. Although the air was quite chilly, our hosts had set up portable heaters and strung fairy lights on the terraces attached to the house. There were small bistro tables scattered here and there, and wait staff passed drinks and small plates of foods.

  I wasn’t sure I was in the mood for a party, but neither could I bring myself to be a wet blanket by making Daisy go by herself while I sulked in our room. So I put on a dress and my dancing shoes, the proverbial and the real, and joined her with the rest of the guests.

  I was not surprised at all that even in this group, Daisy was still the life of the party. She danced with a number of the young men and even a few of the older ones. Daisy’s charm knew no boundaries, but she was also adept at being friendly and warm without appearing flirtatious or improper. I stood on the sidelines and watched her dance, smiling a little at her enjoyment of everything.

  “Princess Daisy is quite something else, isn’t she?” The voice at my shoulder was low, making me jump in surprise. “She certainly is the life of the party.”

  I turned, startled to see that the man speaking was standing so close to me. He wasn’t one of the guests I’d met; in fact, I didn’t recall seeing him before this moment.

  “Sorry.” He smiled. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “Oh, you didn’t. I don’t scare that easily.” The steel in my voice was partly thanks to my Palace training (how to deal with the public, parts one, two and three) and partly my own natural instinct to hold strangers at bay. I wrapped myself in the armor of aloofness and chill to let this guy know he was close to crossing a line, flirting with being too familiar.

  But it seemed this man was one of those people who didn’t get the message—or maybe he was choosing to ignore it. He grinned wider and stuck out his hand to me.

  “I’m Scott Gorman. My mate lives in the village here, and he was invited tonight. Since I’m staying with him for a bit, I came along, too.”

  Now a warning bell was sounding faintly in my head. When we were on official engagements, all of the guests and staff of wherever we went were carefully vetted. But this weekend wasn’t official. However, while my attendance had been impulsive and last-minute in nature, Daisy’s wasn’t . . . which meant that security and precautions should have already been in place.

  But if this guest had come along with a friend, it was possible that no one even knew he was here. It was conceivable that he’d slipped in with the rest of the group of locals. I hadn’t noticed anyone checking invitations at the door; this was a very informal gathering.

  And . . . something felt off. While I was certainly the least of all people to be a stickler when it came to the finer points of royal etiquette, I was well aware that it was basic protocol to observe some recognition and deference when meeting a member of the Royal Family, particular those of us styled with the Royal Highness title. One simply did not approach without an introduction, and even af
ter that, a handshake wasn’t quite the thing unless it was initiated by the royal personage.

  Taking all of that into consideration, I made a split-second choice to ignore the hand Mr. Gorman was still holding out to me. Instead, I took another small step backward and inclined my head ever so slightly.

  “Mr. Gorman, how lovely that you were able to take advantage of a friendship and join us tonight.” On the surface, what I said was innocuous, but I hoped he was reading my underlying message, which was a basic back off command. I tried to channel a combination of Lady Marjorie, who’d been my palace liaison and instructor on all things royal during my engagement period, Princess Alexandra, who despite her natural warmth, was so adept at freezing out those who came too close, and the Queen, who had long ago mastered the expression of bemused disbelief and astonishment.

  But the man I was dealing with was either oblivious or intentionally dense. “Oh, yeah, when I heard Princess Daisy was going to be here, I knew I couldn’t miss this party. And then I get here and see that not one, but two members of the big family are here.” His gaze roved down me, making me feel uncomfortable and exposed even in my very modest and simple dress. “I figured you being American and all, you’ve got to be more like a real person than the others. Right? No bowing and scraping for you? I read somewhere you’re a girl who likes to get her hands dirty.”

  My heart was beginning to pound. There was more than just blissful ignorance of manners and rules here. The double entendre went beyond that.

  “I assume you’re referring to my work in community gardens.” I swallowed hard and glanced over my shoulder. Daisy was still dancing, laughing at something her partner had said. She wasn’t looking my way at all, despite the mental pleas I was sending her. “Growing food is a passion of mine. Actually, I enjoy working with plants of all sorts, but there is something special about seeing a small sprout eventually produce something—fruit or vegetable—that can nourish us.”