Gorman’s eyes glittered. “Crazy, isn’t it, how something can start out small, and then end up becoming so big.”
I raised one eyebrow. I was doing my best to give the man the benefit of the doubt, but now I was certain he was being provocative on purpose. “Small seeds can produce big change. That’s one of the hallmarks of the work Prince Nicholas and I are doing.” I latched onto Nicky’s name both as a way to remind Gorman that I was married to a prince and to anchor myself again in the comforting thought of my husband’s love.
“Yes, you’re both all about change, aren’t you?” He moved a bit closer to me again, and I felt trapped. If I stepped back anymore, I’d be on the dance floor. “You think everyone in the world is going to love your big ideas for all that change. But you don’t think about how all that lovely change is going to mess up life for other people. Have you considered the jobs that will be lost? The cost of all that precious change that’s passed on to the farmers who can’t afford a decent life as it is? No, you and your tree-hugger sort just go along blithely with your big ideas. As long as it makes you look good, that’s all that matters, isn’t it?”
The vehemence in his tone threw me from alarm into real panic. This wasn’t a matter of a guy crashing a party. He might’ve come here tonight as a lark, to be able to say he’d hung out with Princess Daisy, but my presence had clearly offered him an opportunity for something more.
“I—” I began to speak, but before I got very far, Gorman grabbed my arm.
“I think we should continue this conversation on the dance floor, don’t you, Princess Ky?” His voice was mocking now, all pretense of friendly enthusiasm dropped. “You wouldn’t want to cause a scene, would you?”
Shrugging off his hand, I drew myself up to my full height and unleashed the full power of a furious glare. “If you think I’d allow causing a scene to stop me from anything, you haven’t done your homework. Now get the hell away from me before I scream bloody murder and have you hauled out of here in handcuffs.”
A note of mild surprise flared on Gorman’s face. “Feisty, are we?” he murmured. “That’s something good to know. That’s something we’ll keep in mind moving forward. Personally, I prefer a bit of fight in my women.”
“Your Royal Highness.”
I had never before been so glad to hear Simon West’s voice. He stood next to me now, his shoulder inches from mine, his presence looming over both Scott Gorman and me. Although he wasn’t touching me at all, I immediately knew I was safe.
“Hello, Mr. West.” I glanced at him, hoping he read in my eyes the message I was telegraphing. “Mr. Gorman here was just telling me that he’d come along tonight with a friend who’d been invited.”
“I see.” Simon’s lips tightened almost imperceptibly. “We’ve already spoken to the Viscount’s staff about these sort of arrangements in the future. It’s been made very clear to the Viscount that if he and his wife enjoy the presence of Princess Daisy—or any member of the Royal Family—at their entertainments, they must observe the protocols in place for guests and invitations. The Royal Family does not participate in open door parties.”
The song that had been playing ended just then, and another immediately began. Simon turned to me, subtly and yet most definitely edging out Gorman, blocking me from his view. “Ma’am, I know this song is a particular favorite of yours. In the absence of Prince Nicholas to escort you, might I invite you to dance?”
He offered me his hand, palm up, and without any thought other than the escape he was presenting, I took it and allowed him to lead me onto the dance floor, leaving Scott Gorman behind us.
Simon maneuvered me until I stood facing him, a very proper four inches of space between us. One of his hands still held mine lightly, while the other circled around to rest gently on my upper back. Out of habit, I mirrored his stance, following his lead as we began to move across the floor.
The music swirled around us. As the tension began to drain from my body, I exhaled a long breath and glanced up at Simon. “Thank you for the rescue.”
He gave me a crooked smile and lifted one shoulder. “I wasn’t sure you really needed a save, but you know, it’s my job to make sure that you’re not in any danger. I was watching you very closely, of course, and you seem to be holding your own with that man. I was waiting to see if he was really a nuisance or simply wanted to meet you. But once he touched you, there was nothing else I could do but cut in and make sure that all was well.”
I nodded. “Yes. Normally, I think, I can take care of myself, but there was something about him. . .” I shivered. “He gave me a wiggins, as we used to say in college.”
Simon’s brows drew together. “What do you mean, something about him?”
It was my turn to shrug, resting my eyes beyond Simon at the couples dancing behind us. “He started out friendly enough. Maybe a little too friendly, actually, but then it seemed to . . . escalate when he began talking about my work for changing farming techniques. Or at least I think that’s what he was bringing up. He made some not-so-veiled references to how the changes Nicky and I are proposing would affect other people.”
Now Simon’s eyes were positively razor sharp as he stared down at me. “You’re sure that that’s what he said?” he demanded. “You’re positive that he was talking about this? This wasn’t something that you could have misconstrued?”
I shook my head. “I don’t think so. At first, it was a little vague, but right before you came up, he was speaking much more plainly. Maybe even a little threateningly.”
Simon’s hand gripped mine until it was almost painful. “We need to quietly and quickly get off the dance floor,” he instructed me in a low voice. “Stay with me and try to keep the expression on your face . . . pleasant. Not worried. Try to look natural.”
Fear rose like a tide in me, but I did my best to follow his instructions. Simon was fluid in his movements, pivoting away from me while his fingers stayed wrapped around my hand. Both of us smiling like benevolent idiots, we meandered through the other dancers as though we had no place in the world to go. Simon didn’t stop until we’d reached a shadowed part of the terrace, where he immediately spun me so that my back was pressed into the cold stone wall and his body shielded me.
“Stay still,” he muttered. “Just don’t move. I need to make a call.” Pulling out his phone, he pressed one button and waited. Apparently, whoever was on the end answered immediately, because Simon launched into a terse conversation without any preamble. I couldn’t make out much of it, though I heard my name, a mention of the Viscount and our location.
“What name did that man give you?” I didn’t realize Simon was speaking to me until he repeated the question impatiently. “And who did he say brought him to the party tonight?”
“Scott Gorman.” I searched my memory, trying to remember if he’d mentioned a name. “I don’t think he told me who his friend was. Just his mate, he said.”
Simon repeated my words into the telephone and then scowled, pulling his phone from his ear to look at the screen.
“Hold on. Carruthers is calling.” He swiped another button and returned the phone to his ear. “West.”
If I hadn’t been watching his face so closely, I would’ve missed the momentary shock in his eyes before they went completely blank. His gaze flickered to me before darting away.
“Yes, sir. Right away. Of course.”
He ended the call and grasped my arm. “We need to go now. Stay with me and don’t look one way or the other. Don’t speak to anyone.”
My heart was pounding. I had a dozen questions I wanted to ask, but I’d been well-trained to obey my security officer without delay or explanation. I cast my eyes to the floor and let Simon pull me along across the terrace and through an open door.
We followed the corridor until he stopped at yet another door. Two men in suits flanked the entryway. When Simon leaned forward and said something under his breath, one nodded, and both men stood back to allow us to pass inside.<
br />
We stepped into a room that I decided must be a library of sorts, since the walls were floor to ceiling bookshelves. The lighting was dim, and all the heavy drapes had been pulled over the huge windows.
“Have a seat, ma’am.” Simon seemed to have recovered himself somewhat; he’d returned to addressing me formally, but his face still wore the same grim, pinched expression.
“Simon, what the hell is going on?” My hands were trembling, I was embarrassed to note. I’d always prided myself on the ability to stay cool and calm under pressure. Now, calm was not exactly my mind set.
“One moment, please, ma’am. We’re still securing the premises.” He moved back to speak to one of the men guarding the doorway. I sank down onto the love seat and waited.
There was a commotion in the hallway, and then Daisy was in the room with me, her face drawn and shadowed. I jumped to my feet and met her halfway across the room.
“What’s going on? What happened?”
She took my hands in both of hers and shook her head. “I don’t know, but something is up. This is standard protocol for whenever there’s some sort of breach in security, or when one of us has been threatened or . . . hurt.” She blinked rapidly. “God, I hate it. I wish I could text my parents and Alex and Nicky and just know they’re all right. I want to know Granny and Grandpa aren’t in danger. But no.” Heaving a long sigh, she tossed her arms in the air. “Here we sit, not sure of anything.”
“Your Royal Highness.” Simon stood next to Hester, Daisy’s protection officer. “If you would be seated—both you and the Duchess, that is—we can brief you on what’s happening, as far as we know it.”
Daisy went still. “You’re going to tell us something?” She darted a glance my way. “That’s not usually good news. We’re not generally given any information until it turns out to be a false alarm—or unless someone’s been harmed.”
“Please, ma’am, sit down.” Hester spoke softly.
My stomach clenched painfully, and the food I’d eaten earlier in the evening churned, threatening to come up. I sat down next to Daisy, both of us stiff and silent.
Simon cleared his throat. “Ma’am.” He was addressing me, which only made my nausea worse. “I removed you from the dance floor very quickly because, based on your accounting of the conversation with this, eh, Scott Gorman, we had reason to believe he might be part of a group that has been an increasing concern to the government. When I was reporting this to the task force set up to monitor the situation, my superior officer called, as you saw.” He paused. “He informed me that this evening, there was an incident at the hotel in Brighton where His Royal Highness the Duke of Kendal was taking part in a meeting.”
“An incident?” My lips were numb. “What does that mean?”
Next to him, Hester shifted in obvious discomfort.
“There was a bomb, ma’am.” Simon leaned forward and covered my hand with his. The fact that he was touching me in comfort sent all of my terror spiraling, because it was so out of character for my security officer. “We don’t know for certain yet, but it seems very likely that this group we’ve been watching is responsible.”
“A bomb.” I repeated the words dully. “Is Nicky . . . where was . . .”
“His Royal Highness was injured in the explosion.” Next to me, Daisy moaned, but I couldn’t find my voice. I fixed my eyes on Simon’s lips, aware that they were moving and yet not hearing anything. All I could think about was the way we’d left things before the weekend: both of us upset, neither of us communicating and all of it for utterly stupid reasons. I wished that I could go back in time and make sure to kiss Nicky good-bye before he’d left for his friend’s stag party. I wished that I had made it a point to see him before he’d left London for this meeting. I wished that I could take back every unkind word I’d said to him.
And most of all, I wished that I was in his arms right this very moment.
“Your Royal Highness. Ma’am. Kyra.”
Gradually, I become aware that Simon was repeatedly calling my name, and Daisy was shaking my arm. Out of instinct, I struggled to rise to the surface again and pay attention, like a good duchess, but then reality clamped down on my heart. I didn’t want to hear what my protection officer wanted to tell me. If I stayed unhearing, if I refused to listen, I didn’t have to know that Nicky was—that maybe he could be—
“No.” I clapped my hands over my ears. “I don’t want to know. Just let me—leave me alone. Go away.”
“Kyra.” With no little effort, Daisy pried one hand away from my ear. “Kyra, love, listen to me. Look at me.”
I screwed my eyes shut tight.
“Kyra.” Daisy shifted from her pleading tone to full-on regal voice. “Kyra, stop this right now. This is not how you behave. You are the Duchess of Kendal. You are a Royal Highness, a member of Great Britain’s Royal Family. And what’s more you are Kyra fucking Duncan Mountbatten-Windsor. You are the strongest woman I know, and you can handle this.”
Where sympathy or gentleness failed, Daisy’s stout, no-nonsense tough love shook me out of my state of denial. Gripping my hands together in my lap, I pulled myself together, sat up tall and looked Simon in the eye.
“I apologize, Mr. West. Please . . . go ahead and tell me everything.” If my voice shook a little, there wasn’t anything I could do about that.
Simon ducked his head to look at me levelly. “Ma’am, Prince Nicholas was injured in the bombing. He was airlifted to King Edward VII’s Hospital in London, and he is in the intensive care unit there.”
“What are his injuries?” I needed to know what to expect. Had he lost a limb? Or been seriously cut by shrapnel?
“The Prince is being treated for head trauma, ma’am, along with some other injuries that are less . . . emergent. He is unconscious, and the doctors are working hard to determine the extent of the damage.”
Head trauma. The words echoed in my ears. That could mean anything from concussion to more serious brain injury, including a swelling of the brain, which could lead to permanent brain damage, loss of abilities . . . or even worse.
“Stop playing out worst-case scenarios in your head,” Daisy ordered. “We don’t know anything at this point except that my brother is still alive. We’re both going to hold onto that as we go to London.”
Hester looked pained. “Your Royal Highness, at this time, it is not advisable for you and the Duchess to be moved anywhere. We’re still determining if the risk of further attacks is imminent. The people who planned and carried out this bombing are still at large. All of the Royal Family has been moved to safe places.”
Daisy tilted her head. “My brother is in the hospital unconscious. You can’t tell me that my parents aren’t with him. And you certainly can’t be suggesting that my sister-in-law—his wife—and I remain here.” She rounded on Simon. “You just told us that there might be a member of that group—the ones who are threatening us—here at the Viscount’s home. Surely Kyra and I would both be safer in London than we are here.”
Simon gave a brief cough. “That was suggested by Lieutenant Carruthers, Your Royal Highness. There is a bit of disagreement about the best course of action.”
“Then let me be the tiebreaker.” Daisy’s smile was tight and without an ounce of humor. “We are going to London. Arrange the car as soon as you can. Do whatever you must to make it safe for us, but know that we are leaving here in an hour.”
There was a long silence that crackled with tension. Daisy and I formed a united front, but I knew deep down that in reality, we were powerless. Whether we went or we stayed was at the discretion of our security team.
Finally, Simon exhaled a long breath.
“Yes, ma’am.” He sketched a bow in our general direction before he turned to leave. Hester’s jaw was clenched as she followed him. As they paused at the door to confer, Daisy took my hand.
“Kyra, he’s going to be all right.” Her fingers tightened around mine. “This brother of mine is stubborn and heads
trong, which means no bomb is going to slow him down. He is young, he is disgustingly healthy, and what’s most important, he loves you so completely that he’d never let go of life if it meant losing you. So you keep all of that in mind . . . and trust. Have faith. Nicky is going to be fine.”
I HATED HOSPITALS.
It didn’t matter whether they were American or British hospitals, as I was discovering now, ping-ponging between my spot next to Nicky’s bed and the nearby private waiting room, where I was sent during the all-too-frequent examinations. The doctors were very polite; in fact, each time they kicked me out of Nicky’s room, they phrased it as a question, as if I had a choice.
“Ma’am, wouldn’t you like to take a little walk while we examine His Royal Highness?”
“Your Royal Highness, would you care to step down the hall for just a moment?”
I wondered idly what they would do if I answered in the negative. No, I wouldn’t like a walk. No, I didn’t care to step down the hall. I wanted to stay where I was, at my husband’s bedside, holding his hand and staring at his still, white face, praying for any sign of movement or change.
But since I knew that the physicians were doing their best to help Nicky recover, of course I acquiesced every single time. In fact, the only person to whom I said no over those hellish days was the Queen herself.
Nicky’s parents had tactfully suggested that I go home to the cottage for a nap the morning after Daisy and I had arrived at the hospital. I had ignored that suggestion. Alex and Jake had offered to sit with Nicky while I slept in another room nearby. I thanked them kindly and changed the subject.
Her Majesty, however, was not so subtle. She came to see Nicky early in the morning on the second full day in the hospital, at the first opportunity the Royal Family’s security force had allowed. After she’d stood at the foot of her grandson’s bed, staring silently at his unmoving form, she’d turned to me, piercing me with that bright blue gaze.
The Anti-Cinderella Conquers the World Page 12