by Geneva Lee
The prickle at the back of his neck told him what she hadn't yet. It filtered into his veins, turning his blood to ice while he waited for the final nail.
“His name is Oliver Jacobson,” she continued. “I can't be certain, but given that he's your mother-in-law's new neighbor, I thought you two might have met.”
Smith swallowed on the lump forming in his throat, but it had lodged in place. He didn't need her to tell him more. For the most part the man was a stranger. Smith had only spent a few hours in his presence. It had been Belle that Jacobson rubbed the wrong way. At the time, Smith chalked up his wife’s dislike of the man to maternal difficulties. Jacobson had made himself useful to Belle’s mother. He’d been visiting the Stuart family home for months before the Prices had sought refuge there. The few discomforting moments he'd had with the man, Smith had written off as the subsequent effects of his wife's paranoia. But now things began to click into place: the offhand remarks about the privileged aristocracy, the chilling moment Jacobson had held a gun far too close to Smith's head for comfort, and, of course, Jacobson’s interest in the Stuart family.
Belle hadn’t walked into Smith’s life on accident. She had been sent, and Smith had been given the task of grooming her to be a source of information. His wife was meant to be an unwitting spy on her best friend and the Royal family. But by then Smith had already betrayed Hammond and those behind the conspiracy he was embroiled in. It couldn’t be a coincidence that Oliver Jacobson was so well-acquainted with the Stuarts.
When the waiter reappeared and Georgia ordered two bourbons, Smith didn't object. She folded her hands on the table and waited as he processed what she had revealed to him. There was no need to speak. She didn't need to say I told you so, although she was barely holding back a smirk.
Georgia had been right. She’d known all along that this would change everything. Smith could no longer stay neutral. The enemy was far too close to home.
8
Harrods was packed with hundreds of last minute shoppers. It was all Clara could do to keep track of Belle amid the chaos. Their annual Christmas shopping trip had been a tradition since their days in university. Planning it these days was a little trickier than it used to be. It had taken Clara a fair bit of psychological gymnastics to convince Norris, her personal security guard, that she could go somewhere so crowded and public in the weeks leading up to the holidays.
Who was she kidding? These days it took considerable guilt trips for her to leave the palace grounds outside of diplomatic duties. She'd agreed to go in a way that would neither draw attention nor jeopardize her safety. That meant she'd been forced to wear a scarf around her head. Given how rarely she'd been photographed wearing anything but dresses and heels, she'd opted for jeans and flats. She wasn't just shopping with Belle though. Norris was nearby. She couldn't see him. He blended into the crowd too well. She doubted that a woman at the perfume counter could get a spritz off a bottle before he'd be there pulling her to safety.
“Are you sure you don't want sunglasses?” Belle said dryly as they paused at a scarf display. She reached up and fiddled with the fringe on Clara's silk scarf.
“Don't remind me how ridiculous I look,” Clara pleaded. This was as close as life got to normal for her. She'd have to settle for it. Right now, she needed to pretend that she was just another woman out for a day with her best friend. Otherwise, she'd be forced to think of the situation at home.
Clara had always been hesitant to share her relationship problems with Belle. Alexander was a private man. Every glimpse he afforded her into his own guarded interior was too precious for her to divulge. She'd have to settle for being out and away.
“Is everything okay?” Belle asked, as if she sensed how preoccupied Clara had become.
“Fine,” she said absently. Belle’s lips pursed. She didn't believe her, but she also didn't push it any further. Clara considered for a moment. “We're fighting,” she admitted.
She didn't really have to say anything more. Belle was a married woman herself now. Given that she'd married a lawyer, she was probably no stranger to arguments herself.
“Anything serious?” Belle asked. She was choosing her words carefully, which Clara was grateful for. It was a tactic the two had become accustomed to in recent months. Clara didn't particularly like how the dynamic in their relationship had shifted. Though it had been inevitable, when Belle became involved with Smith Price. She'd begun to keep as many secrets as Alexander, even choosing not to tell Clara when she eloped in New York. They'd managed to both look past their hurt feelings. That was, after all, what best friends did, but nothing had been quite the same since.
“Just the usual,” Clara told her. “He's being overprotective and unreasonable. You'd think he was the King of England or something.”
Belle giggled appreciatively. “Smith isn't much better, and he doesn't have a title to hide behind.”
“I can't stand it,” Clara confessed. She wandered over to a display of holiday tea and sniffed the sample. It seemed like an appropriately safe present for her own mother. “I hate the security guards and the constant scrutiny. I hate feeling like a prisoner in my own home.”
She left it at that. Belle didn't need to know that her husband had tied her up and left her for an hour in the bedroom. Alexander's proclivities behind closed doors was a subject Clara was fiercely protective of. Plus, she wouldn’t put it past her best friend to beat down Alexander’s door and let him have it.
Belle remained silent, and Clara realized she had struck a nerve.
“I like it,” her best friend finally admitted. “Ever since what happened with Smith, I don't mind that we have a security team. I don't even notice them most of the time, and it makes me feel better.”
Clara couldn't help but wonder when the two of them had switched places. Once, Clara had been vulnerable, afraid of her own shadow. It had been a product of the abusive relationship between her and her ex-boyfriend, Daniel. Despite the increased interest in her personal life, she'd railed against Alexander's obsessive need to know where she was, what she was doing, and that she was safe. In all fairness, he had every reason to be concerned, but Clara was determined to remain her own person, even though she'd taken on a life of public service.
Belle had been the wild card at university. Despite being engaged during that time, she could vacillate between dutiful and daring within seconds. It had been something Clara admired about her. Now Belle was the one who preferred to isolate herself. It took considerable effort for Clara to get her to go into public. Clara even knew that her own sister, Lola, who joined Belle's startup company had stepped in to takeover most of the public relations. Belle refused to be the public face of Bless. It was as if she wanted to be a ghost.
Clara decided to respect Belle's wishes, even if she didn't understand them.
“Who do you have left to shop for?” Belle asked.
Clara sensed she was changing the topic. She still had to pick up something for Alexander. Given how angry she was with him, now didn't seem like the best time to buy him a present. He'd done stupid things plenty of times, but for whatever reason, this has crossed a line and she didn't know how to step back over it.
“I need something for Elizabeth,” she said, instead. “I know she'll get plenty of things, but I feel like I should get her a special present.” Her little princess was already spoiled. She was the first grand baby, the first niece, and the first child. Elizabeth wanted for nothing. Still, Clara had precious few opportunities to purchase something for her child in person.
They headed to the children's department. Elizabeth was petite, taking after neither her mother nor her father, as far as Clara was concerned, so she was still in infant sizes.
“This is darling,” Clara cooed, picking up a red velvet cape with a little matching hat. She turned to flash it to Belle but froze when she saw her best friend's face.
Belle was fingering the lacy hem of a christening dress and stopped when she realized Clara was starin
g.
“I've been thinking about expanding Bless,” she explained too hurriedly. “Children grow out of clothes so quickly. At least, that's what I'm told. It might be useful if you didn't have to buy them all.”
“Of course,” Clara agreed with her. She sensed there was more to this preoccupation than what Belle was sharing. It hadn’t occurred to Clara that visiting the children’s clothing department might upset her best friend. A considerable amount of time had passed since Belle had confided that she had lost a pregnancy. The subject hadn’t come up since. That meant Clara had to make a choice. Belle hadn't pressed for more information when Clara was upset earlier, but that had been an issue of marital difficulty. It seemed that what was on her friend’s mind was something that she needed to share.
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked Belle softly.
Belle began to shake her head, but then thought better of it. She cleared her throat before she began to speak. When she finally did, her words were thick with emotion. “You know I had a miscarriage” Belle began, her words thick with emotion, “It was right after Smith and I were married. It wasn't planned. I didn't mean to get pregnant. So much was going on, I'm not even sure how it happened. I barely had time to process the fact that I was going to have a baby before it was taken away from me. It seems like so much was taken away from me last year.”
Clara searched for the right question to ask. She knew a thing or two about unplanned pregnancies, but unlike Belle, she hadn't lost a baby. To know her best friend had been silently carrying this pain for so long broke her heart.
“I know it’s been a year,” Belle continued, “ and I should be over it.”
“Love doesn’t run on clocks,” Clara murmured, recalling the wise words Norris had once shared with her. “I think you get to be sad for as long as you need to be.”
“Even if it’s forever?” Belle whispered.
“Even then,” Clara assured her. She paused. She had already forced her best friend to own up to what was bothering her. Now she had to decide if she should pursue the painful subject. “Are you trying to have a baby?”
“Yes,” Belle said after some hesitation, “and no.”
“I think that's what's called a conflicting report,” Clara said softly. She gave her best friend an encouraging smile as she re-hung the small velvet cape. Maybe this wasn't the best place to be having this particular conversation.
Over her shoulder, she caught sight of Norris, who was staying safely distant. She guided Belle away from petite reminders of what she lost—and what she still stood to lose. They stopped when they found a children’s play table tucked in the corner.
“This isn't terribly dignified,” Belle noted as they sat in the miniature chairs.
“Who says I have to be dignified?” Clara asked. The joke cut a little bit of the tension and Belle relaxed.
“I said I wanted to try because it was so obvious to me that Smith did.”
“But?” Clara prompted.
“I kept taking my birth control pills anyway,” Belle confessed.
“So, you didn't want to have a baby.”
“No, I do. That's the strange part. I don't know why I kept taking the pills, except that maybe I was scared.”
“No one can blame you for being scared,” Clara said encouragingly. “Not only did you not plan to get pregnant in the first place, then you lost the baby. That's a lot to deal with, especially given everything else you were going through at the time. How do you feel about it now?”
“Better,” Belle said. “Smith found the birth control pills and lost his shit. I had no idea it was so important to him to have a baby.”
“Men are funny that way,” Clara said in a dry voice. Alexander hadn't had been happy when she found out she was pregnant, but since Elizabeth's birth, she suspected he'd been trying to knock her up every time he took her to bed. She had never quite decided if it was because he adored Elizabeth, which he did, or because he seemed to take pleasure in the proof of his own virility. “Have you talked to him about this?”
“A little.” Belle took a deep breath. “I threw away the pills. I told him so. I guess part of me is scared to get pregnant again, but it's not because I don't want to have his baby.”
Clara wanted to tell her that everything would be all right, but she knew how damaging a thoughtless, if pretty, lie could be. She wouldn't try to appease her best friend with a platitude. “No matter what happens, I'll be here for you.”
It was the only comfort she could offer. Belle smiled gratefully. Apparently, it would be enough.
“Come on,” she said to Clara, standing up and wiping away the few tears that had managed to escape during their talk. “I need to buy something for Elizabeth, too.”
When Clara's mobile began to ring, she ignored it. Amid the crush of holiday shoppers it seemed imprudent to try to have a phone conversation. But when it continued to vibrate in her purse, she decided it couldn't be ignored. Given the number of times it had rang in a minute, she expected Alexander's name to be on the missed call log. Instead, she was surprised to see it was Edward. She flashed the screen to Belle, who shook her head.
“Isn't he supposed to be having a romantic moment alone with his fiancé?” she asked.
Clara didn't want to jinx anything by saying what she was thinking, but she suspected there might be trouble in paradise. Edward had been avoiding choosing a new wedding date for far too long since he'd postponed the original date David and him had settled upon. With all the other stresses of the holiday season, she couldn't help but wonder if matters had finally come to a head. The phone began to ring again and Clara looked to Belle. “I think we're done shopping.”
She shot off a quick text message to Edward so he'd stop calling her repeatedly, and then began to search around her for Norris. She caught his eye in no time. He stepped forward and they hurried over to him.
“Edward is having some type of psychotic break.” Belle explained. “We need to get to the car and call him back.”
“As you wish.” He clamped his mouth shut before he could add Your Majesty. Clara had asked him repeatedly to stop calling her by that moniker, particularly when they were in public, and she thanked him with a smile. It wasn't easy for Norris to ignore matters of etiquette, but he was more like a father figure to both her and Alexander than an employee. He stepped to one side to make a call and a few minutes later, he led them out the front door.
The arrival of a guarded car caught numerous shopper's attentions, and when the wind caught Clara's scarf and blew it away from her face, she knew it was a lost cause. Mobile phones came out and people snapped pictures. Norris hustled her away from the burgeoning crowd. At least, there were no paparazzi around to make the horror complete. No doubt Alexander would be seeing stories about her impromptu shopping trip from any of the number of the Royal blogs that stalked their every movement.
A twisted thrill ran through her at the idea of pissing him off a little. Every once in a while it was good for him not to get his way.
Belle practically shoved her in the back seat before anyone could take more photos, and when they finally settled in, they abandoned their shopping bags, so Clara could dial Edward. He answered before the phone had even rang on their end.
“Are you dying?” Clara asked him in a flat voice.
“I was wondering the same thing,” he retorted. It was easy to see through his mock annoyance. Edward was the more charming of the Cambridge brothers. Being the acknowledged spare to the throne and hiding his sexuality for so long, he'd developed a charismatic wit that ensured his survival amongst the modern day court. It was one of the reasons Clara had warmed to him immediately, and when she'd introduced Edward to Belle the three of them had become the closest of friends.
“If you aren't too busy, I have a bit of an emergency,” he announced.
“What's wrong?” Clara’s attitude immediately shifted to concern.
“You sound like such a mum when you say that,” Belle gru
mbled next to her. “Honestly, you should see her, Edward. You'd think she was going to burst into tears.”
“Do shut up.” Clara bumped against her shoulder. “He doesn’t care about my emotional whims. Why are you calling us every five seconds?”
“If you're busy,” Edward suggested, “I can just call someone else.”
“Not bloody likely,” Belle said. “Spill.”
“Well, David and I are here getting everything ready for Christmas and fighting over the tree.”
“Naturally.” Clara interjected.
“I know, it's terribly gay of us,” Edward said, before continuing, “and...I don't know exactly how to say this, but we've decided to get married.”
“Tell us something we don't know.” Belle said slowly. She looked to Clara with narrowed eyes.
“Like, now,” Edward clarified. “Or over the holidays.”
“You're getting married for Christmas?” Clara clapped a hand over her mouth. Tears threatened to spill over. She'd never hear the end of it if she started to cry now.
“We were thinking for the New Year.”
“That's hardly a distinction,” Belle said. “Were you going to tell us? Or were you worried I’d think you were a copy cat.”
“I thought if we had the same anniversary, you could make certain I don’t cock up and forget a present every year,” he informed them. “Besides, you're supposed to be here in a week, and I was kind of hoping you might come early.”
“Of course!” Belle and Clara said at the same time.
“There's a lot we need to do,” Edward rambled on, as if he hadn't heard them, “And I know you're both busy. Belle you have your business, and Clara you have—”
“We'll be there.” Clara interrupted before he could talk himself out of it. If she had the opportunity, she would get her brother-in-law down the aisle. He’d been dragging his feet far too long not for her to jump at the chance to marry him off at long last.