Once Upon a Prince

by Rachel Hauck

  “Then you can marry her.”

  “Me? You’re the heir. She’s not in love with me.”

  “Nor is she in love with me.” Nathaniel thought better of leaving the ring on the coffee table and placed it on the mantel behind the clock. A seventy-thousand-dollar ring was not to be tossed about like a football.

  “Love? Do any of us ever know if we’re really in love?”

  Yes. “All your brilliant logic aside, Steve, I’m not marrying Lady Genevieve.”

  “You have to marry someone. All that jazz about heirs producing heirs, carrying on royal lines.”

  “You can produce an heir just as well as I can.” The mantel clock chimed the hour. Four o’clock. He’d missed his moment to walk in the snow. Nathaniel peered at the window, the gray lines of the winter evening already shading the remains of the day. “Prince Francis had no children.”

  “He’s your example? I daresay he’s the reason why you’re in this mess. All I’m saying is you should not count Ginny out so quickly.”

  Nathaniel watched Stephen go for a fourth, or was it his fifth, cake. Nathaniel didn’t feel like having this conversation.

  “Stephen, did Mum put you up to this? Or perhaps Morris Alderman?”

  “Morris? You’ve lost your mind, man. The press? I avoid them.”

  “Ginny’s spent more time wooing you and Mum, the King’s Office, the prime minister, and the press than relating to me.”

  “How much time have you spent wooing her?” He was clearing the entire tea cart of sweet cakes.

  “None.” Nathaniel rammed his hands into his pockets—a habit he must break, since it was considered ill form to put his hands in his pocket during parliamentary meetings or government functions.

  “If you marry her, the entail becomes a moot point. All is well.”

  Stephen must be reading the newspapers. “No, Stephen, it becomes more complicated. If I marry her and style her as Her Royal Highness queen of Brighton, she is no longer nobility but royalty. Then Parliament must decide whether she is a true enough descendant of Prince Francis to be his royal heir at the end of the entail agreement. She becomes the grand duchess of Hessenberg and the queen of Brighton. While I’ll only be king of Brighton.”

  “Surely you’re not jealous? ‘I have one country and Ginny has two.’ She won’t stay the grand duchess. She calls forth a government, creates an independent Hessenberg, and resigns the throne. Returns to her place here.”

  “Are you so naïve? She’ll never leave Hessenberg. Why would she? She’ll have potential for enormous wealth.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know, but Hessenberg and Brighton will both be independent. What else is there to know?”

  Politics was not Stephen’s forte. “Plenty.” This whole blooming thing made Nathaniel’s head hurt. “But there is one true fact. I don’t want to marry her.”

  Should he have a T-shirt made? Point to it when anyone asked?

  “She’s gorgeous, Nate. Smart, fun, popular. She’ll rally the people no matter what happens with the entail.” Stephen approached Nathaniel now that the sweet cakes were gone. “But I want you to know you’re not in this alone. I’m here for you. Supporting you.”

  “Then start by ending this rush toward Ginny.” Nathaniel clapped his hand on Stephen’s shoulder, shaking him slightly, nabbing his full attention.

  Three years apart, the brothers were the same height, but Nathaniel was broad and muscled like their father. Stephen was lean and wiry like Mum’s father, strong with lightning moves. Nathaniel was deep and contemplative. Stephen lived on the surface with his emotions, quick and verbal.

  “You’re sure this has nothing to do with the American?”

  “If you can give me a name. A real name. Not the American, I might give you an answer.” Nathaniel poured himself a cup of tea. He bested his brother on this one. He had no idea—

  “Susanna.”

  Nathaniel dropped a lump of sugar in his cup. “Jonathan told you?”

  “Yes, if you promise not to fire him. Otherwise, no.”

  “He should mind his own business.”

  “He’s concerned about you. You’ve changed since you came home from the States.”

  “Of course. Our father died, and I found myself king.”

  “Do you love her?”

  “I don’t know.” But he did. The truth lived in the valleys of his heart and mind. He kept thinking that in time, he’d get over her. Find love in Brighton. “Even so, what does it matter?” Nathaniel sat with his tea. “Though I suppose I could abdicate, marry Susanna, hand you the Brighton throne and the entail mess. You could marry Ginny.”

  “Ha-ha, well played, old boy.” Stephen pointed at him, smiling.

  “You could finally convert the throne room to the bowling alley you always wanted.”

  Stephen laughed. “Dad would rise up out of his grave.”

  “With all the kings and queens of Brighton.”

  “Nate, would you? Abdicate over an American lass you knew for a fortnight?” Stephen sat on the coffee table in front of Nathaniel.

  “Tempting, but no. I can’t do it to Brighton. To Mum or the family. Besides, it would throw us into unbelievable turmoil.”

  “What of your own turmoil?”

  “I’ll shove it aside. Isn’t that what kings do? Set aside their personal life for the good of all?”

  “Certainly Dad did.” Stephen jumped up when the mantel clock chimed again. “Need to run.” He slung his rucksack over his shoulder. “Nate, would she be a good queen? The American?”

  “I don’t know. But I think, little brother, she would be good for the king.”

  Stephen stared away for a moment. “Odd how you seem to be a man who has it all, except you can’t marry the woman you love.”

  “I can’t even date her to see if I really do love her. It wouldn’t be fair.” Nathaniel sipped his tea and set it aside. It had grown cold.

  “I have a few minutes, Nate.” Stephen tossed his bag back to the couch. “Loan me some warmer clothes, and we can go out in the snow.” He jumped to the window. “It’s not too late. The children are still playing.”

  “I think I’ve lost my joy in the idea.” Nathaniel peered out the window. A fresh snow had begun to fall, filling the sledding ruts of the south lawn with big flakes. The older kids had joined the younger ones, sledding, tossing snowballs.

  “For Dad, Nate. For old times’ sake.”

  Nathaniel glanced back at his brother. He was smiling, egging Nathaniel on with his expression. “All right, you’re on.” He craved the cold, a burst of icy wind to dismantle his warm feelings for Susanna.

  Before the clock struck the half hour, Nathaniel and Stephen burst through the south entrance of the palace to the surprised glances of the staff and children.

  With a shout, the smaller children left their sleds and ran to him. “It’s Prince Nathaniel.”

  “King, silly, he’s the king.” One of the older girls ran after her brother and sister, stopping them just shy of Nathaniel to curtsy. “Begging your pardon, sir.”

  He bent down to her. “Not to worry.”

  Stephen chose that moment to interrupt with a wild-man yell and smacked Nathaniel in the side of the head with a snowball. “Snow wars!”

  Oh, it was on. Nathaniel gathered a crew of two older boys, two little ones, and the youngest girls.

  Stephen had the other kids—two older girls, a boy who was the size of two, and the remainder of the young ones.

  White bombs flew through the air. Nathaniel aimed for Stephen, ducking his snowballs and taunting him.

  At the doors and windows, the staff collected to watch. Cheering them on.

  Nathaniel released his last snowball just as Stephen yelled, “Charge!” Ducking his head, Stephen hit him in the chest with his shoulder, knocking him to the ground.

  Snow filled his ears and slipped down the collar of his coat. Oh, so cold. But so good. He laughed when Stephen let him up and the children char
ged them both this time. Nathaniel picked up little Ansley and spun her around.

  The laughter, the cold and snow, the shouts of the children healed Nathaniel’s sorrow over losing his dad. Over his lost boyhood, over memories of Stephen and his parents, over his life that changed forever the day Dad died. But most of all, he laughed for the future of Brighton and her children.

  FIFTEEN

  The clock in the hall chimed midnight when Campbell entered her palace quarters, weary from the long but happy evening. If a woman had to turn fifty-seven, she must do it with her family and friends by her side, attending a Christmas symphony.

  “Did you have a good evening, ma’am?” Megan, her lady’s maid, met her at the door.

  “I had a splendid time. You’ve not enjoyed a happy birthday song until a full orchestra has played it for you.”

  “I suppose not, ma’am.” Megan took Campbell’s coat, hat, and gloves. “Shall I draw you a bath?”

  “No, thank you. I think I’ll stay up awhile. I’m not quite sleepy. You may go.”

  The woman curtsied and backed out of the room.

  A fire crackled in the fireplace. Christmas lights glowed from the tree and each windowsill.

  Campbell eased around the living room, feeling this space she’d shared with Leo. When Nathaniel married, the apartment would become his. She would move to a smaller palace apartment.

  She paused at the first window, missing Leo. Her friend and companion. The one she leaned on to lead and guide the boys. To lead Brighton. To lead her.

  Drawing aside the sheers, Campbell watched the midnight snowfall drift through the palace lights. Silent, peaceful, magical. Changing the world without a sound.

  Could she do the same for her son? Guide him toward his future with a peaceful silence? With dutiful presence and love? Or would she need to be loud like Leo? Forceful and strong?

  Nathaniel had not been the same since he returned from St. Simons. She saw it. Henry, Stephen, and the King’s Office staff took notice as well. Even Jacque, his personal chef, inquired of the king’s poor appetite and weight loss.

  He was lovesick. She didn’t need snow or prime ministers or chefs to figure that out. She’d been in love once, back when the very thought of a certain young man stole her breath.

  But being crazy in love was not enough for her father. No, he felt Prince Leopold was a worthy husband, and he’d have his way, not even considering Campbell’s love for another man.

  There were many nights she soaked her pillow with tears, demanding her heart to surrender and please her father. But in the end, her true love made the decision for both of them. He withdrew his affection, and a year later, Campbell became Leo’s bride.

  It was Nathaniel’s first birthday celebration when she realized she’d fallen in love with her husband. She watched Leo walk Nathaniel around the palace lawn on his first pony, and her heart felt one with him. She thanked God every day for his mercy.

  With a sigh she left the window and reached for the TV remote and found a channel that played Christmas music. She slid off her heels and stretched out on the couch.

  She drifted. Like the snow. Down, down, down, peaceful …

  “Mum? You still awake?”

  “I am.” Campbell sat up, jerked from her slumber by her youngest son’s baritone. “Did you enjoy this evening?” She offered her cheek to Stephen’s kiss.

  “‘Twas the symphony with my favorite gal. What’s not to enjoy?” He plopped into Leo’s leather easy chair and tugged at his tie. “You’re the prettiest queen in Brighton.”

  Ruddy and regal in his tuxedo, there always seemed a bit of comedy about her youngest son with the way his hair stood tall and waved about of its own accord. But he looked and moved so much like her dignified, noble father.

  “But I’m the only queen in Brighton,” she said. “However, you might say I’m the prettiest mum in all of Brighton.” Campbell picked up the remote to raise the volume of “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing.” It was one of her favorite Christmas hymns.

  “You are the prettiest mum in all of Brighton. But I’m one of only two chaps whose mum is also the prettiest queen.”

  “Then did you do as your queen asked? Did you give the ring to Nathaniel?”

  “I did, but he’s not going for it.”

  “He’s stubborn like his father. He refused me too. What did he say?” Fully awake now, she gave her attention to Stephen. “Oh, Nathaniel …”

  “He doesn’t love her. But you know him, Mum. Mr. Perfection. It’s my guess he chooses not to deal with love until this whole coronation business is over. Perhaps even to the end of the entail.”

  “End of the entail? It’ll be too late. Lady Genevieve could be the answer. Brighton cannot bear any more of the financial burden.”

  “Or she could be more of the problem. Mum, she’d be queen of Brighton and grand duchess of Hessenberg.” He fashioned a dubious face. “Quite sticky.”

  “But we will all be independent. I do believe I relish the notion.”

  “Nathaniel being the king married to the duchess of Hessenberg might mean we are more entangled than ever.”

  “Well, are we not in a fine mess.”

  “Mum, it’s late and it’s your birthday. Are you sure you want to talk politics?”

  “Then tell me what you know about the American lass?”

  Stephen shrugged out of his jacket and folded it over the arm of the adjacent chair. “He may or may not be in love with her.”

  “What a fine lot. What does that mean? He may or may not?”

  “He loves her but knows he can’t marry her. That’s my conclusion. Never mind that she lives four thousand miles away.”

  Campbell stood, too restless now to sit. “Do you suppose four thousand miles make him love her all the more?”

  “Who knows?” He lifted the crystal lid of the candy bowl on the table next to him, choosing a few chocolates. “I have a thought, Mum. What if we bring her here?”

  “Here? To what end?” Campbell regarded him, hands clasped at her waist. “I like having an ocean between her heart and Nathaniel’s.”

  “To what end? To burst his bubble. Let him discover he’s not in love with her. He’s in love with an idea, Mum. A fantasy. Let’s bring her here and prove to him, show him, what it would really be like to an American folding into our customs and way of life. Not to mention Nathaniel’s way of life. In his kingly day-to-day. He’s not Nate Kenneth on holiday in Georgia, signing on to wash dishes or cart rubbish. He’s the king of Brighton, and he’ll see she’s not right for him or us. He told me he wasn’t sure he loved her, so let’s help him be sure.”

  “What if he decides he loves her?”

  “He won’t, Mum, trust me. He’s devoted to his duties first. He’s too uptight and by-the-book to make waves. He’ll come ’round to the proper way. Say what, let’s bring the girl to the coronation festivities.” Stephen gave Campbell a cocky grin and popped another chocolate in his mouth. His confidence was a mixture of his father’s and hers.

  “You want to amuse yourself at your brother’s expense?”

  “Never. But how else can we get him to see the truth? Once she arrives, Nathaniel will witness firsthand how awkward it is to have her here, how Brighton is more European than most of Europe. An American like Susanna will find our ways and customs awkward. Foreign. He’ll see her next to Lady Genevieve and realize it’s not love he feels for her, but how she reminded him of his freedoms. He won’t have enough motivation to challenge the marriage act. At the same time, having Susanna around will kick Ginny in the boot. I daresay she spends too much of her affection winning over everyone but Nathaniel. She might just have to put her charms to good use on the king rather than the King’s Office.”

  “She’s being coy, Stephen. Waiting for him to show her a wee bit of affection. Spend some of his charm wooing her. She can’t be seen chasing the king around.” Campbell focused a moment on the music. A lovely quartet played “O Holy Night.” Her faith
had grown over the years of Leo’s illness, but she felt so lacking when addressing the King of all kings.

  “One snap of his fingers and she’d come running. But if she’s jealous of another woman, she might use her Olympian efforts to convince Nathaniel she is the one he loves and needs.”

  “Does he love her?”

  “He says he doesn’t. He claims she doesn’t love him either.” Stephen approached the wet bar, which contained only diet fizzies and water. He twisted the cap from a water and took a long drink.

  “Then we must believe him.”

  “Do you want grandchildren before you’re too old to change their nappies?” Stephen came around the bar.

  “Now you’re being ruthless,” Campbell said, retiring to her chair next to Leo’s. “Besides, I believe I have two sons who could give me grandchildren. Even better, assure a Stratton heir to the throne.”

  Stephen spewed the gulp of water he’d been gurgling down. “Mum, please, if you’ve transferred your expectations to me, then you are in dire straits. All the more reason to bring Susanna over and shake things up. Besides, I’ve no use for romance.”

  Campbell gave Stephen the truth-eye she used when he was a boy to check his sincerity. “It would be a cruel trick if he fell in love with her all the more.”

  “It’s a chance we’ll have to take, but keeping her four thousand miles away, letting him pine, is not working either. Have you seen him? He’s lost another stone.”

  The queen regarded her son. He made a sound argument but … would it backfire? Produce the opposite of what they desired? “All right, you win. Tell Jonathan to add her to the list. Allow her to bring a guest. Shall you tell Nathaniel, or shall I?”

  “Neither, Mum. If he knows, he’ll go all steely on us. He might tell Jon to remove her name from the list. We’ll never get a true answer. Nor will he. Surprise is key.”

  Deception bothered her. But Stephen presented another good case. “If he asks me outright, I won’t lie.”

  “Fine, Mum. Don’t lie.” Stephen reached for his jacket and wiggled his feet back into his shoes. “Where shall she stay? Parrsons House?”