Royal Baby (A British Bad Boy Romance)

by Avery Wilde

  But there wasn’t much time for such contemplation. Early the next morning, we loaded our bags into Andrew’s car and set off for the airport. Our goodbyes were all said. I’d phoned Rogers the night before to tell him of our plans and let him know that the apartment would be free once more, and then I’d thanked him again for all his help.

  “I always have my staff’s best interests at heart,” Rogers had replied. It seemed like a somewhat cryptic response, but then again, Rogers had always been a man whom I liked but didn’t really understand.

  It was a long drive to the airport, and I’d initially worried that it would be a somber one, because there was a lot on the horizon to worry about. But instead, we both found ourselves happy and chatty, making lists of stuff we wanted to do and see when we got to America. The journey passed swiftly, and we arrived at the airport to check-in for our flight in good time.

  “Is it me, or is it unusually quiet here?” I asked, peering around.

  “I wouldn’t really know,” Andrew admitted. He’d always flown by private jet, for obvious reasons. “But based on pictures I’ve seen on the news and so on, we do seem to have picked a good time to travel.”

  That was an understatement; the place was as good as deserted. I remembered the bustle and squash when I’d first arrived in London, and the sheer number of people all trying to get where they were going—and this didn’t even feel like the same building. We’d picked an early flight, so perhaps we were getting in ahead of the tourists, but even so, that didn’t seem reason enough for the concourse to be the ghost town it was.

  “Could there be a strike that we didn’t know about?” I asked.

  “I don’t think that’s it.” Andrew’s gaze had been drawn across the concourse to a small group of people now approaching; practically the only ones there. “I can’t believe she’s done this.”

  I stared. The black suited men walking in our direction could’ve been anyone—they looked as if nature had designed them for anonymity—but there was no mistaking the figure in the middle for anyone else.

  “She closed down the airport?” I gasped as the Queen drew closer, walking with a measured step. “Just to stop us from leaving?”

  “Of course not.” The Queen apparently had better hearing than I thought. Or maybe she could read lips—it was strange the talents one acquired as Queen of England. “Some things have been moved about. This terminal, that terminal; nothing too drastic. No one will miss their flight, they just might have to walk a bit further to reach it. Now,” she smiled thinly, “how are you both?”

  “How did you know we’d be here?” Andrew asked, his eyes narrowed. “And when?”

  “I told you when you were little,” the Queen said, “I always know what you’re up to.”

  “That worked when I was five, it doesn’t work now.”

  “And yet here I am.”

  I said nothing, but I had a pretty good idea how the Queen had found out. Rogers’ cryptic statement about having my ‘best interests at heart’ now came into clearer focus. But how was this ambush in my best interests? Unless Rogers knew something that we didn’t. I found myself starting to consider the Queen’s dramatic appearance here in a new light.

  “You can’t stop us,” Andrew said, his voice steely. “Well, maybe you can today. But there’s always tomorrow. You can’t watch us all the time, and we’ll just keep trying. We’re not going to give up on our future and we’re not going to give up on each other, no matter how much you try to make us.”

  As I watched, I saw tears rise in Queen Constance’s eyes. “You think that’s what I want? To wrench the two of you apart?”

  Andrew looked a little taken aback. “Er…yes?”

  The Queen tried to swallow back her emotions; a lifetime of suppressing them had clearly ill-prepared her for moments like this. “Yes. Yes, of course you would. I haven’t given you much of a reason to think otherwise. We don’t talk about things in our family, do we? I didn’t tell you when your behavior made me ashamed to call you my son and I didn’t tell you when I was proud of you either. And I have been, Andrew. Especially in the last forty-eight hours,” she said. “I’m sorry for the way I acted the other day, and I’m sorry for not coming to you to apologize sooner. And what I said about my future grandchild…I didn’t mean it. I was shocked, and I reacted terribly. That is no excuse, though.”

  I looked at Andrew and saw the shock registering on his face.

  “If you want to go now,” the Queen went on, “then I won’t stand in your way. If America is where you see yourselves, then that’s fine. If you really want to renounce your birthright and no longer be a prince, then it’s your decision. But please,” she choked back a sob, “please don’t abandon your family for good. You’re my son and I love you.”

  It was an extraordinary sight to see that stern, controlled woman breaking down. Emotion had finally found its way through the cracks in the façade that she’d kept up for so many years, seeping through, widening the gaps until the flow became a torrent—years of repressed feelings pouring forth, desperate to be heard. Words were not enough, they no longer had the power to express what mother and son were feeling. But that didn’t matter, because words had ceased to be necessary. Andrew strode across to his mother and took her in his arms. She clung to him, seeming suddenly so small, the mantle of Queen discarded for a moment and leaving only Constance, the woman, the mother.

  As I watched, the Queen held out an arm towards her. “Keira…I’m so sorry for what I’ve said and done. Please…”

  I needed no other prompting, and I joined them, an arm around my husband-to-be and one around my future mother-in-law. After all, I was family now too. Andrew had made that very clear to me, and after everything we’d already gone through, it felt amazing to finally have a moment like this.

  ***

  An hour later, the airport was back to normal, with nothing to indicate that anything unusual had happened beyond a few grumbling passengers—and most airports were filled with grumbling passengers anyway.

  In the back of the sleek, black Rolls Royce that took us in the direction of Richmond, I relaxed for the first time in days. I had no idea of what the future held or what this touching reunion between mother and son might mean for me and my future, and yet I felt very happy and entirely at ease.

  “Do you mind if I ask,” Andrew began, somewhat tentatively. “What turned you around?”

  His mother looked wistful. “Rogers came to me and reminded me of something that occurred in my youth. He was absolutely right to do so.”

  Good old Rogers.

  She continued. “I met a man, when I was much younger. He was Swedish royalty. We fell in love and I think we would have been married but…there was some sort of diplomatic misunderstanding between our families at the time. My father had a disagreement with his father—the King of Sweden—and there was a lot of nastiness involved. Media smear campaigns for weeks, and so on.”

  Ah. So that was why Alexandra had said ‘not again’ when she said she didn’t want anything negative to happen between the royal families of Great Britain and Sweden. As awful a person as she was, she’d at least had some good intentions in desperately wanting to marry Andrew. I still couldn’t stand her, and I’d probably never forgive her for how she’d treated me, but I could at least somewhat understand her actions now, as crazy as they’d been.

  “I still remember clearly when my parents spoke to me about it. I don’t think any of us—not me or them—used the word ‘love’. And I don’t think it was because they thought love didn’t matter next to duty, it was just…that’s not how we talk. We bury our emotions. Anyway, they made it clear I could not marry him under any circumstances, and they made me cut off contact. I don’t know what would’ve happened with him if things had been…if I’d fought for him the way you fought for Keira. A few years later I met your father and fell in love with him, and I wouldn’t change that for the world. So in a way I’m grateful to my parents and to myself for scre
wing that moment up, because it led to something else wonderful. But as you get older, it’s hard not to look back and wonder. My point is,” she seemed to awake from a reverie of times gone by, “I came within an ace of treating you the way my parents treated me—of not actually speaking to you and acknowledging the fact that you are in love. And if you don’t learn from these life experiences, then really, what use are you?”

  Andrew said nothing, but he squeezed his mother’s hand.

  I wondered how many other such experiences might be hidden away beneath the stifling cloak of monarchy.

  For a while, silence reigned in the back of the car, until we were in sight of Richmond Palace.

  “So what exactly are we planning to tell Michael?” Andrew asked.

  “The truth,” I replied. I wasn’t sure it was my place to say so, but the words slipped out before I could stop them.

  The Queen nodded. “Keira’s right. If this near miss has taught us anything—and I sincerely hope I’m not yet too old to learn—then it’s that we need to talk to each other openly and honestly. I’ll speak to him as soon as we’re back.” She paused. “You know he’ll ask about whether or not you want to be King.”

  Andrew nodded ruefully. “I imagine that will be his first question.”

  “Well, it’s not one I can answer.”

  Andrew shook his head. “Me neither.”

  “That’s not very helpful.”

  “No, I suppose it’s not.” He sighed. “I hate to mess you around, but…give me time to think and talk to Keira. I think Michael at least owes me that much after what he threatened me with.”

  The Queen nodded. I knew she hadn’t actually seen the photos Michael apparently had in his possession, but she was aware of what he’d intended to do with them if Andrew hadn’t given him what he wanted.

  “What do we tell the media?” Andrew asked next, as if working his way down our list of problems.

  “The truth,” the Queen said. “And as soon as possible. If it comes out any other way, then it’ll look like we were trying to hide something, and it’ll be all the worse for Keira.”

  “I can handle it,” I said.

  But the Queen’s face remained grim. “With all due respect, Keira, I assume you have not been the center of a media storm before?”

  “Well, no.”

  “It isn’t pleasant,” she said. “They’ll come for you with personal attacks. They’ll dredge up old boyfriends, and if they cannot find them they will create them. There will be stories about your friends, your family, your education, your sex life. It will be vile. And the sooner we get on top of it, the better. If we can release the information in our own way then it will be a love story that transcends class. If the tabloids get it some other way then it will be the prince forced to marry the maid he knocked up during filthy sex romps.”

  I nodded. “Okay. Your way definitely sounds better.”

  As we drew up outside Richmond, Rogers came out to meet us. Rogers seldom allowed his expression to reflect his emotions, preferring a stonily respectful visage at all times. But now he was showing emotion, and it was not the happiness that should have been appropriate.

  “Your Majesty,” he addressed the Queen as she got out of the car, “I fear there has been an incident.”

  My heart began to pound, and Queen Constance arched a brow. “What’s happened?”

  He took a deep breath. “There’s been a leak. A tabloid leak." He pronounced the word ‘tabloid’ like someone finding a worm in their apple. “They have asked if we would care to comment on the story they will be running tomorrow.”

  The Queen took the paper, and I watched her face turn first to horror then to grim determination. “Right.” She passed the paper to Andrew and me. “I’m sorry, Keira, for what you’re about to go through.”

  I looked at the paper, and my heart seemed to plummet directly into my stomach. The tabloid headline writers had put it more succinctly, but the general gist of the front page was: Prince forced to marry the maid he knocked up during dirty sex romps.

  My heart was practically in my shoes now. I’d told them I was prepared for this, and I’d thought that I was prepared for this, but the reality of it, of someone prying into my life, was so violating. I shivered. The picture was the worst part of it; Andrew and I caught in a compromising position. It’d been a loving moment, but it was now rendered sordid.

  I looked at Andrew and saw the fury in his eyes, and he spoke through grated teeth.

  “I’ve seen this picture before.”

  Chapter 26

  Andrew

  Doors burst open and smacked into their parent wall as I ploughed through the dining rooms and libraries of Richmond in search of my brother. As I went, hot anger radiated from me, and I heard Keira’s voice in my head, ‘He’s your brother—the only one you’ve got—try to understand why he did this and talk to him’. She was right, of course: what had the events of today taught me, if not that talking was the way to real progress, and that it was sadly missing from my family? I was lucky to have a woman like Keira, who would recognize my rage and calm it with those well-chosen words. My family was also lucky to be welcoming someone who could put the way she’d been treated to one side enough to see the need for peace between warring siblings. And so, when I found Michael, I would sit him down and calmly ask: why did you do this? What have I done to you that makes you want to hurt me this way? And what can I do to make things right between us in the future?

  Or maybe I wouldn’t.

  I threw open another heavy set of double doors, which slammed into the centuries-old plasterwork with a satisfying ‘whump!’ and came to a brief halt. There was the object of my search. I strode across the room, grabbed Michael by the lapels and propelled him with bruising force back against the wall.

  “What the hell did you do?”

  Of course, saying you’re going to act in a diplomatic way and actually doing it, when faced with a man who has slandered your fiancée in the press, are two very different things. I was willing to admit that I hadn’t really lived up to the spirit of what Keira had said. On the other hand, I hadn’t ripped off Michael’s arms and made him eat them, which I thought showed a great deal of restraint on my part, given the circumstances.

  Michael was understandably taken aback by this, but he regained his composure admirably quickly.

  “I did what I had to do.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “The public has a right to know the truth about their future King and Queen!”

  I dropped him. “What?”

  Michael brushed down his creased shirt front. “I heard Mother talking to Rogers. I knew she was bringing you back. So I’m back out in the cold again. The unwanted second child. Just kept around on the off-chance that there’s a national tragedy and we get caught without a King.”

  “So you took your bitterness out on Keira.”

  Michael drew himself up. “The public had a right to…”

  “Oh, stop talking shit!” I fought down the urge to lose my temper again. Keira was right; it wouldn’t help. “Maybe you’ve managed to convince yourself that you did this for the good of the public, but it doesn’t fool me for one second.”

  “Believe what you like,” Michael sneered. “It doesn’t matter anyway; as much damage as these photos might do to your reputation, you’ll still get to be King.”

  “Yes.” And I realized that it was only in this moment that I’d made up my mind. I did want to be King, a different sort of King; one who would really change things. “I do get to be King. And, for what it’s worth, I plan to be a damn good one. And since you’re so keen on a monarch keeping his people well-informed, how about I start now?”

  “What?” Anxiety had crept into Michael’s snide features.

  “I think they’re entitled to know that the second (soon to be third) in line to the throne is a bitter, jealous parasite, who would sell photographs of his own brother to the tabloids.”

  Mi
chael’s anxiety turned to genuine fear.

  “You see, some of them might not like the idea of a prince and a commoner,” I continued. “And some of them won’t like the idea of an heir to the throne born out of wedlock. And I won’t lie to you, the next few months are going to be absolute hell for me and, more importantly for Keira. But here’s the thing. I love her and I’m marrying her. And that’s a fairytale happy ending that the public will love more than any sordid gossip. Once they get to know Keira, they’re going to love her like I do, because she’s pretty bloody wonderful. And all the petty stuff that they’re going to be up in arms about for the next few months will seem like a bad dream. But someone betraying his own brother? Well, that’s something I don’t see them forgetting. That’s the sort of thing that hangs around your neck for the rest of your life. And you don’t have the option of them forgiving you once they get to know you, because; a) they already know you and don’t much like you; and b) you’re just not a nice person.”

  I shook my head and continued. “I hope you really enjoy the next few months of misery that Keira and I have to endure thanks to you, because the price of it is a lifetime of misery for you.”

  Michael’s face had passed through fear and settled on hatred. Somehow he still blamed me for all that was about to befall him.

  “Fortunately for you,” I finished. “I’m not about to make that call.”

  Michael looked up, stunned.

  “For one thing, it would upset our mother,” I went on. “But more importantly, I don’t want to be that person. That’s what you would do. And I don’t want to be you. This cycle of escalating blame between us has to end somewhere, and I say it ends here.” I put my hand on his shoulder, Michael flinching as it landed. “You are a despicable human being—and not in the cool way. I know you haven’t had it easy, and I haven’t made it easier, but I don’t think that in any way excuses what you’ve done to hurt my fiancée. I dislike you intensely. But I forgive you.”

  With that, I walked away, leaving my speechless brother staring gormlessly at my retreating back. To my surprise, I felt rather good about what I’d just done. Keira had been absolutely right.