by Geneva Lee
“Feel free to drop my name.”
He’d approved of my plan to host a birthday party for Sarah on one condition: the party would take place somewhere else. Booking anything in London at the last minute was a challenge. “The V&A took pity on me.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to spoil her.”
“It’s big enough. I think she wants to make a splash.”
“Hasn’t she done enough of that?” he asked.
“What about your meeting?”
Alexander’s hand gripped mine tighter. “Not now, Poppet. Just be with me for a few minutes.”
I wouldn’t argue with that. We’d had our fair share of chaos in the last few weeks. If we could steal a moment of peace, we would. Spring had brought fresh flowers to nearly every bit of the Royal Gardens. “It’s so beautiful. I think I discover something new every day.”
Alexander inclined his head for a moment, as if considering it a challenge, then a wide grin split his face. “I know what you should discover today.”
He led me along the path as the sun began to fade, giving up on another day, and handing us over to night. When he finally stopped and pointed, I gasped. The wisteria had begun to bloom around the Summer House, the purple petals swaying gently against its glass-paned doors.
“How did you know?” I asked. I always missed them. The flowers were there one minute and gone the next, like so much of nature’s art.
“They were my mother’s favorite. She would bring us down here to see them, and then she’d decorate Sarah’s birthday tables with them.”
I tucked that image away for further consideration. “We should get back. Your feet have to be getting cold.”
The weather seemed to agree, because the first splat of rain hit my nose as soon as I spoke.
“Always have an umbrella in London in April,” I said with a sigh. I would never learn.
“If you have an umbrella, you never get caught in the rain.” Alexander bent to kiss me, his palm pressing to the back of my neck, and I forgot my objection to the weather. “Come on.”
We hurried to the Summer House and let ourselves in.
“It will die down in a few minutes,” he said, checking the sky.
I stared at my husband—always considering me, always protecting me—and found myself in love with him all over again. He turned, his face searching mine, and caught me staring. “What is it?”
“I love you,” I murmured.
“And I love you more than anything.” He stroked my cheek.
I knew that. I’d always known, but in this moment, it consumed me: the sense of belonging and completion that only came with finding the one person meant for you in all the world. I would never know why fate had matched us, but I would never stop being grateful.
“Poppet,” he called to me.
“X,” I breathed, pushing onto my toes to kiss him.
It started sweetly but urgency ran like a current between us. Our life would change again soon. Our life was always changing. All we had was this one moment. It was the only guarantee.
That’s why he kissed me like this every time.
And as much as I hated the idea of clinging to fear, I realized now, it also pushed us to live. That was what drove us—the passion we’d felt since the first touch. It ignited me now.
Alexander’s teeth caught my lower lip, but I wasn’t interested in rough. I wanted to worship him. I wanted to show him that no part of him was ever damaged in my eyes. Our scars made us stronger.
“No,” I whispered, pushing him against the door gently.
Alexander’s eyes hooded as I unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it over his shoulders. They still shuttered against the marks that covered his powerful body, but I loved those imperfections that proved he was a man who’d fought death and won. Dipping my lips to his chest, I kissed the bullet wound that had nearly taken him from me and then the one that had missed entirely.
He drew a harsh breath, as if I was releasing something in him he didn’t know he’d carried. I wanted to move lower to kiss every scar, to erase the guilt he’d allowed to fester there, but he caught my neck and brought my lips back to his.
His hands swept down, lifting my dress and I stopped kissing him only for the moment it took to shed it.
“My Clara. I want to make love to you every year when the wisterias bloom,” he whispered against my lips. “And every winter by the fire and all the days between.”
It was so easy to get caught up in the rush of the world around us, always planning for the next moment and worrying about making it to the next day while fearing what lay ahead. But, in that moment, I knew that every sunset prepared us for another day together.
“Love me?” I asked, and he did.
Chapter 26
Clara
Someday, an angel would invent a way to get dressed for a party in under an hour. For now, by the time I’d finally tracked down my dress, pinned up my hair, and finished my make-up, we were running late. Naturally, all Alexander had to do was put on his tuxedo, but that man could put on nothing and look better than the rest of the planet.
The museum wasn’t far from Buckingham, but the short drive took long enough for me to start worrying. Alexander seemed equally preoccupied, staring out his window, lost to his thoughts. Our only connection was our clasped hands. When we reached the party and made it past the inevitable onlookers and their cameras, I would relax. Everything was being taken care of, and I wasn’t one to fuss. Plus, with Edward there, I knew one of us would be seeing to overlooked details, and he was the far more competent party in that regard.
When we reached the V&A, Alexander flashed me a wan smile before climbing from the Range Rover. Barricades kept the crowds away from the arriving guests. Alexander opened my door and helped me out of the car. I smiled to the crowds as camera flashes went off around us. His hand slid to the small of my back, warm and protective, as he guided me to the museum’s entrance.
“You are a goddess,” Alexander murmured in my ear.
I felt like one in the white silk gown that flowed loosely around me, dipping low in the back. Tamara had insisted on sending the evening maternity gown during our last shopping trip, despite my protest that I had no events that required such a fancy dress. She’d winked and told me to save it for the next one. I’d thought I would never wear it, but the party was the perfect occasion. Paired with a pair of silver Louboutins, it was elegant and sexy—and as far from the typical maternity dress as I could get.
A deep purple carpet had been placed on the steps leading into the Victoria and Albert’s Grand Entrance. I’d taken the cue from royalty. Sarah was a princess whether she felt like one or not, and tonight, I would remind everyone. But the interior decor was all Belle and Edward, with one notable exception.
As soon as we passed into the large space that normally served as the museum’s entrance, the entire vibe changed from buttoned up to lavishly sensual. Wisterias hung from the columns circling the room and a cocktail bar lit by subtle purple lights had already attracted a number of guests. We passed through it, stopping to greet various friends of Alexander’s family.
Alexander’s hand left my back only so he could take mine, as though he was afraid he might lose among the strangers. My thoughts drifted to what Georgia told me the other day about always having me surrounded unless he was nearby. Tonight his possessiveness seemed to radiate from him like a field, and I found myself pressing closer, drawn to its energy.
But it wasn’t that I sensed danger. Rather, I knew my nearness soothed a jagged ache in him that nothing else could.
When we reached the corridor that split in the direction of the gallery, Alexander whisked me into an alcove and kissed me slowly, his lips savoring each movement. I gasped against his mouth, my fingers tangling into his hair. When he released me, his eyes were wild.
Before I could speak, he continued toward the party.
“What was that for?” I asked in a low voice.
He lif
ted my hand to his mouth and kissed the back of it. “The wisteria.”
I’d done for him and Sarah, so that a tangible piece of their mother would be here tonight. But the flowers now held a different memory for me: of fogged glass doors and Alexander’s hands.
There were more of the delicate blooms draped over tall glass vases on the tables in the Raphael Gallery. The modern centerpieces contrasted magnificently with the Renaissance paintings that dominated the gallery. A popular band had taken up Edward’s offer to play the party and they already had people dancing in the center of the space.
Near the cake, Belle was talking animatedly to another woman I didn’t recognize. I took the lead, and Alexander followed, as keen to avoid another well-meaning greeting as I was.
“Guarding the cake?” I asked her.
“Someone has to,” she said. “Look at it.”
It was a spectacular feat of confectionary with five different tiers, all frosted in a deep indigo and covered in dripping pearls. I was more interested in finding out whether the champagne layer or the lemon layer did more to satisfy my sweet tooth.
“I should be going. It was lovely to see you,” the girl said, brushing Belle’s hand in farewell and nodding to us before returning to the crowd.
I gave Belle a questioning look.
“She applied for an internship,” she explained, “but she’s been called home.”
“Home?” Maybe that would explain why she was on the guest list.
“Her father is a Senator. She came with one of Edward’s school friends.” Belle said. “It’s too bad. I think she wanted to stay in London.”
Before I could dig for more information about the girl, the crowd parted for Smith and Georgia. The two were deep in conversation. Smith wore his tuxedo with authority, and when he saw Belle, a smile slid over his face. It faded when he saw who she was with.
“May I have a moment?” Smith asked, joining us. I was taken aback to see he was speaking to Alexander.
My husband looked to me. “If our wives approve…”
“Go and have your important conversations,” I teased. “We’ll stay with the cake.”
“Are you certain?” he asked.
I shoved his shoulder, beaming up at him. “I’m fine. They’ll look after me.”
He kissed my forehead, but as he turned, I caught an unspoken command pass between him and Georgia. I was being passed off. Now I was her responsibility.
“Do you need anything?” she asked.
“Water?” Everyone around me was drinking, but I’d yet to see anything nonalcoholic pass on a tray. It seemed unlikely that it would.
“Wait here,” she ordered.
When she left, Belle moved closer, dropping her voice, which seemed wholly unnecessary given the music. “Did you see Philip?”
My eyes flashed through the crowd in alarm. I’d okayed this guest list. Edward had created it. How on earth had we allowed Philip Abernathy, Belle’s cheating ex-fiancé on to it?
“I’m sorry,” I said anxiously, gripping her arm. “I can have someone kick him out. I have no idea how he got on the list.”
She pried my fingers free, giggling a bit too maniacally for a woman on the verge of running into the man she’d almost married. “Are you kidding? I put him on the list. He knows all these people, so I was sure he’d come. He’s never missed an opportunity to kiss ass before.”
“Why?” I couldn’t understand why she’d do anything nice for the man who had screwed Pepper Lockwood for most of their engagement.
“This is better than a school reunion,” she said, like this was perfectly obvious. “I’m hot.” She gestured to her dress for confirmation and I nodded. The brilliant blue made her stand out and her gown clung to her body in all the right places, including her baby bump. “I’m pregnant.” She flashed her right hand. “And happily married.”
“Revenge is sweet.” I couldn’t help but laugh.
“It’s terribly shallow of me, but I don’t care,” she admitted with a smirk.
Philip deserved having his nose rubbed in her happiness. Actually, he deserved a lot more than that, but since as far as I could tell, he had two emotions—bored and boring—he might not even notice.
“What does Smith think?” I asked. I couldn’t imagine what Alexander would do if my ex-lover showed up.
“See for yourself.” Belle raised her club soda in the direction of the bar. Smith was leaning against it, sipping a drink, and watching Philip like a hawk. “I think he wants Philip to come over to me, so he has an excuse to punch him.”
“Doesn’t he know you can handle that yourself?” I asked dryly. I would never forget the night that Belle had caught Philip in the act.
“He does,” she said with a shrug, “but why should I have all the fun? Now if Pepper steps out of line…” She rubbed her fist with her left hand.
“You will walk away because you’re pregnant,” I said firmly. “No drama tonight. I need a break.”
“We do, too. Smith was supposed to close on the house in—” she cut off suddenly.
“What is it? What house?” I demanded.
“It’s nothing.”
But it wasn’t, and I could tell. “Let’s get some air,” I suggested.
The garden was far enough away from the actual event that few people had straggled out that direction. It was a bit of a shame since even the lights illuminating the reflection pool and the ellipse of jets had been tinted violet. The effect was other-worldly but chill, and I instantly relaxed.
“Feeling okay?” Belle asked as I kicked off my heels to enjoy a moment without their constant pinch. She scooped down to pick them up.
“Thanks,” I said, hooking my fingers around them. “Honestly? I always feel out of place at these things.”
“You planned it,” she pointed out.
“I know.” It was hard to explain that even after a few years of time spent with London’s most powerful and elite, I still didn’t feel like one, particularly because I’d been crowned Queen Consort alongside Alexander.
“No, I mean you planned it,” she repeated. “Clara, there was a time when you would fade into the wallpaper at a party. You never would have planned one.”
“I’m hiding now.”
“You’re taking a breather,” she corrected me, turning to face me. “After which, you will return and make small talk and nod graciously and walk hand-in-hand with your husband.”
“I know that, but I still feel like an outsider.”
“Because you are,” Belle scoffed. “You’re the Queen. You basically went from party flunky—I love you but it’s true—to above everyone. You don’t belong because you were always meant to stand out.”
“When did you become so wise?” I asked her, narrowing my eyes.
“Love does funny things to people. I promise not to let it go to my head,” she said.
I was incredibly blessed to have my friends, because they were real. Status, money, power—none of that mattered to them. They didn’t see me as an outsider. They saw me as Clara. I didn’t know what I would do without them, which was the real reason that I’d dragged her outside. “Spill. What’s this about a house? Are you moving? I thought you loved Holland Park.”
There was enough house for a baby or two and then some, but I’d gotten the impression for months that Smith Price had plans to whisk her away.
“It doesn’t matter.” She shook her head. “Not since…”
“Since?” I pressed as my heart pounded a little harder. Her evasion was only more worrying.
“We’re buying an estate in Scotland,” she blurted out, hurrying on when she saw my face fall, “or we were. I think we still are, but it’s not permanent.”
“You’re temporarily moving to Scotland?” I asked faintly.
“It’s not far. Only a couple of hours by car and less by helicopter and you know someone who flies those,” she teased, but her heart wasn’t in it.
“That’s why you keep going out of tow
n. I wondered.”
I recalled how much Smith had enjoyed Christmas at Balmoral. They’d returned to Scotland soon after, which had been my first clue that they were plotting betrayal. “How can you leave me here? When will I see my god baby?”
“Your god baby, huh?” Her eyebrow arched like this was in question.
“It better be.”
“She,” Belle said softly, the ghost of a smile flitting over her mouth.
“She?” I repeated. “It’s a she?”
I forgot about being mad at her and pulled her into a hug. Belle laughed, squeezing me as we squealed. “Don’t make me cry. I’ll ruin my make-up.”
“Sod your make-up,” I said, drawing back, I glared at her. “You can’t take away my god baby and Elizabeth’s best friend.”
“Best friend, huh?”
“Or maybe Alice’s best friend.” I patted my stomach.
“Or William’s future girlfriend?” she suggested.
I grabbed her hands and pleaded, “You can’t move.”
“It wouldn’t be all the time. Hear me out.”
I listened as she explained that Smith wanted the baby to have plenty of room and less stress for Belle. “The company doesn’t need me in the office every day and we’ll have a nanny to help. I can take meetings online and Lola can run things here.”
“Lola might be busy,” I reminded her.
“Anders won’t need that much help.” Belle dismissed this issue too easily.
“So what went wrong?” I asked.
“Smith went to a meeting with Alexander the other day. He didn’t go into detail but I think it had to do with Jacobson.” She paused, biting her lip. “Did he tell you about it?”
“A little.” Alexander had told me that he was taking Smith to a meeting regarding the Jacobson’s release. Considering the men’s shared interest in bringing him to justice, I hadn’t found it strange. “He seemed shaken when he came home. He didn’t really want to talk about it.”