“Ginny, love, where’ve you been?” Blythe leaned forward to air-kiss Lady Genevieve’s cheeks.
“Bowing out of another engagement.”
Lady Genevieve was everything a crown prince-turned-king would want in a wife. A former Miss Brighton and Olympic lacrosse champion, she was stunning, sexy, and intelligent. Worse yet, she had once vied for Nathaniel’s heart.
He’d refused her, choosing Susanna instead. But perhaps now, as the wedding neared and he had a chance to watch Susanna function in royal situations like this hoity-toity garden party, he wished he’d made a better choice.
Susanna flipped her gaze up at Nathaniel. Was he staring at Ginny with any longing or affection?
No, he was staring down at her. Susanna finally felt a bit of warmth in his expression. He smiled and her knees went weak.
“We’re telling the story of the skiing bear,” Nigel said.
“Oh my word.” Lady Genevieve rolled her eyes. How did she make even that look alluring? “What a grand time we all had.” She ha-ha’d like she ate diamonds for breakfast and flossed with spun gold. “Of course I knew you’d escape, darling. Naturally.” Lady Genevieve fell against Nathaniel, caressing his arm. Then she shot Susanna a sly glance. “Susanna, darling, gorgeous dress. Love the orange flowers and vintage vibe. A Molly Turnwalt design or I’ll turn in my fashionista card.”
Susanna smoothed her hand over the ivory skirt with its splash of orange blossoms. “From her spring line, yes.”
“In college, I only wore Molly Turnwalt.” Lady Genevieve laughed with Winnie. “Remember her T-shirts and peg-leg jeans? Oh, to be twenty-two again.”
Susanna burned with embarrassment, breathing deep, refusing her soul the sweetness of firing off a sour retort. Lady Genevieve was trying to make Susanna look out of touch and childish.
“Ginny, darling—” Nigel shoved her aside. “I’m telling a story.”
“Oh right, Ni, I forgot it’s all about you.” Lady Genevieve rocked back, folding her arms, pulling a face. “Do go on.”
A twittering laugh floated through the group with familiar, longtime-friend glances. Susanna hated feeling like a wallflower. She peeked up again at Nathaniel to discover he was watching Ginny, a slight smile on his lips.
Susanna felt sick. Weak. She’d been here before. Two years ago. On the beach at home with her longtime boyfriend, Adam Peters. She had expected him to propose, but instead he toiled with the words to end their relationship.
“I’ve found the right ring but not the right girl.” Adam Peters’s confession still pierced through her heart at the oddest times.
But she’d been so committed to her plan to marry him that Susanna had refused to see the truth. They were not right for each other.
Well, she refused to be so naive this time. If she and Nathaniel had wandered down a dark romantic dead end, then she’d be the one to turn on the light.
However, she’d not give up just yet. She joined the conversation, turning to face Nathaniel. “Since clearly you lived, I suppose you found a way out of this bear collision?” Susanna stepped closer to her fiancé, sending a signal to Lady Genevieve to back off. Susanna was the one wearing Nathaniel’s ring.
“Yes, I managed to calculate an escape.”
“Escape?” Nigel laughed. “Susanna, he performed a feat only Houdini would attempt. To the right there was a thick stand of trees. An option worse than running into the bear. Trees don’t frighten and run off. To the left”—Nigel arched his hand through the air—“was a tumble over the side of the mountain with a straight drop down to the rocks.”
“I had no choice but to ski into the bear,” Nathaniel said.
“You really skied into the bear?” Susanna smiled, searching his expression for truth. For hope.
“Not exactly. As I whisked closer and closer, going faster and faster, I started yelling for the bear to move, but he merely stared at me as if I annoyed his sleepy thoughts. I braced for impact when I hit one of nature’s moguls and—” Nathaniel whistled, slicing his hand through the air.
“He went airborne,” Nigel said.
“You jumped the bear?” Susanna liked the mental image of a young prince soaring through the air, his regal, chiseled features cutting through the icy breeze as he hurdled a sleepy, hungry winter bear.
“Cleared him by a good four feet,” Nigel said.
“It was spectacular. You should’ve seen it.” Genevieve’s tone carried a subtle reminder. I’m a part of Nathaniel’s inner circle, and you, Susanna, are an interloper. “We sat around the fire talking of it all night.”
“Say, Nig, didn’t Hampsted film it with his camera?” Morton snapped his fingers, remembering. “He was always sticking that thing in our faces.”
“By George, I believe he did.” Nigel stretched, searching over their heads. “He’s round here somewhere with his new wife. Ah, there he is . . . Hammie.”
Nigel and Lord Michael scurried off to hound Hammie about his home movie while the distinguished Henry Montgomery, Brighton’s former prime minister, approached Nathaniel.
“Pardon, Your Majesty, might I have a word?” He bowed slightly, then smiled at Susanna. “You are looking lovely as ever, Susanna.”
“Thank you, Henry.”
“Excuse me, darling.” Nathaniel turned to Susanna. “I’ll return momentarily.”
Susanna watched him walk off with Henry, their heads bent together. What could Henry want in private at a garden party honoring the king and his future bride?
The unease in Susanna’s heart surfaced and burned. Did Henry want to discuss something about Brighton? About Nathaniel? Or maybe his upcoming marriage?
Perhaps it had to do with Nathaniel’s mother. In public, Henry was the former prime minister. In private, he was Nathaniel’s stepfather, married to his mum, the Dowager Queen Campbell. They wed last July after the one-year anniversary of King Leopold V’s death.
Susanna scanned the atrium garden for Campbell, who was unmistakable in a bright yellow spring dress with a matching coat, shoes, and hat. Once she had taken off her mourning clothes, nothing but bright colors would do. The press was starting to notice, calling her Colorful Campbell.
“So,” Lady Genevieve began, interrupting Susanna’s thoughts. “Your wedding dress. We’re all dying to see it.” She wrinkled her nose. First at Susanna, then Winnie, Blythe, and Lady Ruthie. “Aren’t we? I don’t suppose I could get a sneak peek?”
Susanna marveled at the woman’s boldness. Asking to see her gown like they were best friends. They hardly knew each other, and Susanna trusted her about as much as sticking her hand into a dark hole in the ground. Never knew what might bite back.
“I’m afraid not.” Susanna gazed past Lady Genevieve’s slender shoulder, eyes fixed on Nathaniel’s back, his dark suit accenting his wide shoulders. “The designer and I are bound by an agreement of mutual exclusivity.”
“Really? Merry Collins made you sign an exclusivity?”
“I offered, if you must know. I wasn’t going to require something of her I was not willing to take on myself.”
Genevieve arched her brow. “She must love you.”
“We have a mutual respect,” Susanna said, irritated by this conversation. Irritated by the fact Nathaniel seemed to be in some sort of deep discussion with Henry—indicated by his pinched brow and squinting eyes. What was going on? This was supposed to be a party. A joyous celebration of their upcoming wedding.
Instead, Susanna felt a certain dread.
Nathaniel shoved back his jacket as he anchored his hands in his pockets. A sure sign he was frustrated. Annoyed. His signature move—hands in his pockets—was considered ill form in Parliament and at state events, so he’d broken the habit. Except in moments like now.
He nodded once. Then glanced back at Susanna.
Something was definitely wrong.
“. . . do you think you’ll work, Susanna?”
She switched her gaze to Winnie. “Work? Yes, as time allows. I
’ve been consulting with AGH Partners, landscaping a new garden in tribute to King Leo.”
“Fantastic. Good for you. I always think the wife of the king should have a job, you know, hold on to her own identity.”
Hold on to her own identity? Winnie had no idea of what she spoke. Susanna had long given up on such an idea. She’d all but lost her identity the moment she said yes to Nathaniel and moved four thousand miles away to Brighton.
The only thing that remained of her was her American heritage. Which the press loved to point out.
A woman with a large pink hat stopped to talk to Lady Genevieve, but kept one eye on Susanna as they whispered and laughed.
Never mind. Nathaniel was coming her way, so Susanna excused herself.
“Nathaniel, what’s going on?”
His gaze communicated a raw, vivid fear. As if he were about to do something he didn’t want to but must.
Yep, she felt his cold glance all the way to her bone marrow. He was dumping her. Adam had the same look on his face that stormy afternoon on the beach.
“I’ve something to tell you.” He hooked his hand around her elbow and steered her toward the open French doors.
“You’re scaring me.” She walked with him, her strength draining.
“Your Majesty!” The party director hurried toward them with determined strides, waving her clipboard in the air. “We’re ready for the formal pictures now.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Janis.” Nathaniel sighed, looking down at Susanna. “We’ll talk after this.”
No, no, she couldn’t take it anymore. “We’ll talk right now. What is going on with you?”
“Susanna, please—” He smiled at Mrs. Janis, who waited with a frozen smile. “Let’s get the photograph. The Chadweths went to a great deal of effort to have this party for us.”
“What’s the point of this party or a photograph if you’re breaking up with me?”
“We’ll be right over here, Your Majesty.” Mrs. Janis backed up, pointing to the corner of the atrium where marble fountains spewed crystal water from angel wings.
“Just say it.” She became forthright when she was nervous. With Adam, she used their twelve-year history to launch an argument, but she only had eighteen months with Nathaniel. Ten of which they spent apart. “You regret proposing to me.”
“I what?” Nathaniel reared back. “What are you talking about, Susanna?”
“Well, do you? You’re distracted and distant. You’ve stopped talking to me about your life. You hardly smile or laugh when we’re together.”
“I realize that government business has gotten in the way a bit, yes.”
“This is not about government business. Look, I’ve been dumped before, Nathaniel. I’m aware of the signs.”
“Susanna, I am not Adam Peters.”
“Then what?” She grabbed his arm. “Do you think it’s not going to work with me as your wife? Are you sorry—”
“No, Susanna, no.” He grabbed her shoulders as he peered down at her with blue sincerity, his chest rising and falling with each deep breath. “Quite the opposite. I fear you will regret saying yes to me.”
Nathaniel tried to relax the tension from his bones as he walked Susanna up the broad, grand staircase to her Parrsons House suite.
They had put off talking after their small confrontation at the Chadweths’. It wasn’t the place or time. Since then, they’d barely had a moment to themselves. They’d departed the garden party for a dinner at the American ambassador’s home with only enough time to change wardrobes. It had been a long Friday.
“Are you coming in?” Susanna stood in the doorway, waiting.
Nathaniel tried to discern from her tone and posture whether his answer should be yes or no. “Actually, that’d be lovely.”
She led the way in, slipping off her jacket, passing through the suite’s teakwood foyer to the living room.
The clock on the fireplace mantel chimed eleven bells.
For three more weeks, this would be her home. Then she’d move to Nathaniel’s palace apartment and this suite would become their private living quarters for Christmas and holidays when they traveled to the family’s country estate.
Already Susanna’s influence was changing this place, changing the palace—his former bachelor pad—in small, gentle ways. Above all, she was changing his bachelor heart.
He could not lose her. Must not. Yet he felt as if he’d been holding his breath for so long he had to let go and let life deal him the hand it must. He had to tell her the truth. After that, she might very well want to leave.
Could he blame her? She’d given so much already. This one final request could push her to the royal edge.
Slipping out of his tuxedo jacket, Nathaniel gestured toward the tea cart that Rollins, the Parrsons House butler, had set out for them.
“Would you like some tea?”
“A small cup. Thank you.” Susanna sank slowly to the cocoa-colored sofa she’d recently selected as part of the apartment’s remodel. It was one of the only expensive pieces she had authorized, saying that the apartment suited her just fine without spending a lot of money to remake a room that already looked “splendid.”
Her simplicity was just one of her many qualities that endeared her to him. And one more reason why he was so desperate not to lose her. She kept him grounded in everyday reality.
Pouring her tea, Nathaniel added the dollop of cream she’d come to love. “Here you go, love.” He handed over her cup. “Rollins left some biscuits too.”
“I couldn’t eat another thing.” She patted her stomach, settling back against the couch. “Ambassador Riddle went all out, didn’t he? I can’t believe he brought over Michael Baggio.”
“He’s always been a classy chap.”
Tyler Riddle and his wife, Kate, had hosted a fine evening of food and wine, topped off with a very special guest: the American standard singer Michael Baggio, whom Susanna adored.
And he openly adored her back, aiming his musical charms right at her.
But why not? She looked stunning in a midnight blue gown, her long blonde hair flowing over her shoulders in wide curls.
Nathaniel tried to give her space throughout the evening, grateful for the distraction of the other guests and his need to circulate. Yet he let her know he was there for her and in no way did he regret asking her into his life.
For his own sake more than hers, he held her hand at Mr. Baggio’s miniconcert. The blasted singer stirred his jealousies.
Halfway through Baggio’s first number, “The Way You Look Tonight,” Nathaniel caught an emotional mist in Susanna’s eyes and he knew. She was homesick.
Well, perhaps that was the gist of it all. She needed to be free to fly if her heart so dictated. He had grasped too tight, suffocating his precious bird. Perhaps he needed to let go and be willing for her to fly away.
And if the bit of news he carried in his chest caused her to doubt her decision to marry him, then so be it.
Nathaniel poured his own tea, snatched up a chocolate biscuit, and settled in the wing chair adjacent to Susanna, noting that his thoughts were far more courageous than his heart. He wasn’t willing to let her go. Not in the least.
He took one bite of his biscuit and tossed it to his plate. He wasn’t hungry. And he had no taste for tea.
“Susanna—”
“Nathaniel, I’ve decided it’s okay if you don’t want to marry me.” Her blue eyes were steady on him. Wide. Without guile.
He set his tea on the table and rose to his feet. “How can you say such a thing? What makes you think I regret proposing? You do realize I went to Parliament with an Order of Council for the right to marry you. It’s the first time a king offered his own bill or amendment in over a hundred years.”
“That doesn’t mean you haven’t changed your mind since then.”
She said that with such calm and clarity. “Perhaps it’s you who has changed her mind.” Nathaniel stood behind his chair, hands propped on the curv
ed wings. “Do you regret saying yes to me?”
“Do you regret proposing to me? You’ve been so . . . weird lately.”
“I know, love, I know.” He exhaled, returning to his seat.
“And what was that smile you gave Lady Genevieve this afternoon? I thought you wanted to keep her at arm’s length after how she tried to manipulate you into marrying her.”
“You’ve heard the saying, ‘Keep your friends close but your enemies closer’?”
“You think you need her on your side?”
“I think I need her not to fight against me. Can we not talk about Ginny?” He pressed his hand over his heart. “There’s something I’ve been avoiding discussing with you.”
“Like what?” The rosy hue faded from her cheeks.
“Susanna.” He stood again, too restless to remain seated. “There was a writ passed in Parliament last week, sponsored by the Liberal-Labor Party coalition, who you know recently took control in Parliament. As it were, they are also a small but loud voice against the monarchy.”
“What kind of writ?”
“An addendum to the Marriage Act. Brighton parliamentary procedure allows for a writ to be attached to any law or act by a majority vote in the House of Senate and Commons within a year of the law’s ratification.”
Nathaniel paced over to the window and stood in the room’s shadows, peering into the rich, dark, velveteen night. Parrsons was situated on top of the cliffs surrounding the northeastern bay, and on a clear night the lights shining down from the heavens seemed to be within a man’s reach.
“Nathaniel?” Susanna’s warm hands smoothed over his shoulders.
He turned around and drew her to him, embracing her, kissing her cheek, working down her long, slender neck to her shoulder, holding on to her for dear life. “I love you so much.”
When he found her lips, she rose up on her toes, looping her arms about his neck, returning his affection, matching his ardor.
“Talk to me, Goose,” she said, her lips still brushing against his.
A March Bride (A Year of Weddings Novella) Page 2