“What happened?”
“There was an accident,” she said, blinking through her tears. “He lost control of his car and ran into a tree.” She sniffed and dabbed a lace handkerchief to her nose.
“Mum,” I said, “Edmund is strong. He’ll get through this.” I approached the opposite side of the bed and gripped his hand.
No response. He didn’t react, and his limp hand lay, unmoving, in mine. A breathing tube had been inserted in his mouth and connected to a ventilator at the head of the bed.
“How worried do I need to be?”
She gave a long, slow blink. “Very.”
Chapter 27: Home
Rowan
Heading home to my postage-stamp apartment didn’t make me happy. It wasn’t that it was small. Or that there wouldn’t be any food waiting. With everything that had happened, I would now have plenty of money to eat out. The check from Infidelity might or might not have dropped, but I’d be surprised if my bank account hadn’t suddenly grown. My unhappiness stemmed from the realities of Richard’s life.
He’d said nothing about what pulled him back to London. Not that I’d expected revelations of his personal life, but I wasn’t an idiot. I’d seen that look before. It’d mirrored mine when the call came in about my father’s suicide. It was a mixture of fear, desperation, desolation, and the end of the world, all mixing together in one massive holy-hell-no moment. Plastered on top of the devastation came the brave-face facade. The one I portrayed to the world. The very same one Richard had given me.
A quick search would reveal if something had happened to any of the royal family, but my cell phone had died somewhere mid-flight. I had to wait until I got home to dig into that mystery.
But should I?
If Richard wanted me to know, he would’ve told me. Right?
Did I dare stress the fragile bond growing between us and ask for details? Or should I let him come to me in his own time?
These questions frustrated me. Instead of searching for answers, I turned my attention to the city outside.
“Excuse me.” I tapped on Mark’s shoulder. “This isn’t the way to my apartment.”
“Miss Cartwright,” Mark said, “you’re being taken to your new apartment.”
New apartment? But then it hit me. Infidelity had mentioned that living expenses, accommodations, and even a daily allowance would be provided by the client.
Is it odd that I felt a pang of loss for my tiny home?
Several minutes later, we pulled up outside a steel-and-glass marvel with not one, but two doormen standing outside. One went to the trunk of the car and retrieved my bags, and the other opened my door. Mark exited as well and gave instructions while I tilted my head back and gawked.
“This way, Miss Cartwright,” Mark said, leading me inside an opulent lobby.
“I live here?”
“Yes,” he said, handing over a key card. “Top floor. His Royal Highness will be calling you tomorrow.”
“I’m in class until three. Is there a number where I can reach him?”
Not once had Richard given me the number to his cell phone. Mark hesitated, and I understood.
“I’m sure he’ll call when he can.”
Evidently, I was at his disposal and not the other way around.
The elevator dinged and opened into the foyer of a luxury apartment with million-dollar views of Central Park.
Mark placed my bags down. “If there’s anything you need, just call the front desk.”
“I need my things from my apartment.”
Richard might have bought me a new wardrobe, but it lacked the essentials, like sensible clothes for school and clean bras and panties. I’d only packed for the weekend, and I had nothing to wear. Not to mention my school books and laptop.
“All your things have been brought from your apartment,” Mark said. “If there’s anything else?”
“Where will you be?”
He was my security escort. Didn’t that mean he needed to be nearby?
“I will be close. Rest assured, these accommodations are secure. What time do you need to be at Pratt in the morning?”
“My first class is at nine, but I like to be there about eight thirty.”
“Your driver will be waiting.” He pointed to a phone. “If you will call downstairs a few minutes before you’re ready to leave, I will meet you here and escort you to the car.”
“Thank you.”
“Good night, Miss Cartwright.”
“Good night.”
With Mark’s departure, I explored my new home. One room flowed into the next. Clean lines formed the core of the modern design. Off-white couches made of buttery-smooth leather would be great places to curl up with a book. Stainless steel appliances formed the backbone of a chef’s dream kitchen. A six-burner stove wasn’t something I would use. Although my culinary skills had improved in the past four months. A full-sized refrigerator and subzero freezer came stocked with prepared food. There was a list on the counter with a request for my food preferences. The open living room opened into a dining room with stark white chairs and a glass top perched on a bleached white coral pedestal. Tiny elements of the sea were everywhere. Hints of aqua blue popped here and there. Mostly in the accents, like the large floral displays sprinkled about.
I moved to the windows, floor to ceiling, which formed the outer walls. There hadn’t been numbers in the elevator, but the building towered over the city. For a moment, concerns over voyeurs had me taking a step back, but I remembered some of the architectural design elements I’d been learning at Pratt. No doubt, these windows were constructed with one-way glass.
A whole week alone? How would I survive when I ached for Richard’s touch, for the warmth in his eyes, and for the demands he placed upon my flesh? Yielding to him came as naturally as breathing, and his absence made me feel empty inside.
My exploration continued into the bedrooms. There were three. One had been transformed into a workout room. Another into a small workspace, which would be a perfect place to study. Someone else had already thought of that. Whoever had packed up my things from my apartment had lined up my textbooks on the bookshelves.
I saved the master bedroom for last, uncomfortable entering it alone. That didn’t make sense, but it felt like Richard should be with me. He wasn’t, but I needed to see if my clothes, shoes, and other things had made it over from my apartment.
All my clothes hung in precise, ordered rows in the larger of the two closets. My breath caught when I saw the bathroom. The space had been designed as a spa, one I intended to make full use of, probably later tonight. Maybe a glass or two of wine while I soaked in that tub?
I envisioned many nights when Richard would be called back to England. Until the end of my classes, I would be stuck here even if my heart desired to be by his side.
Uncorking a bottle of red wine, I poured a glass and brought it, and the bottle, back to the bathroom. The jetted tub called my name. My choice of scented bath soap, bath bubbles, and dissolving bath salts waited for my pleasure.
Now, to find my charging cord.
Thirty minutes later, as my fingers pruned and my body relaxed beneath the soothing water, my phone rang.
My heart stuttered a little, as I hoped it was Richard, but caller ID said otherwise.
“Hey, Patrick.”
“Hey, girl. How are things? I haven’t heard from you in a while.”
“I’m good.”
“Good? I thought you’d have something else to say.”
There really was only one thing he would pester me about.
“Like what?” I teased, pretending ignorance.
“How about what it’s like, dating a prince?” he exclaimed.
My stomach did another of those half-flip, half-roll things. “How did you know that?”
“Um, where have you been? Never mind because it’s all over the Internet. Prince Richard of Wales Dates Miss Rowan Cartwright, a Southern Belle with a Lineage Suitable for a P
rince.”
The bathwater sloshed as I surged up. “What?”
“That’s just one of the headlines. Do you want me to read you the rest?”
“Where are you getting this?”
“You seriously haven’t seen?”
“No.”
“Well, my dear, you seem to have made a splash on international news. And you know the press is speculating the hell out of things.”
“What does it say?”
“Hmm, looks like I piqued your interest.”
“Well, no shit, Sherlock.”
He laughed. “Okay, let me pull one of the tamer ones up.” He cleared his throat. “Prince Richard of Wales was spotted with Miss Rowan Cartwright, daughter of ill-fated land and banking mogul, Daniel Cartwright, on a weekend excursion to Savannah, Georgia. Reliable sources say the Prince and Miss Cartwright have been dating in secret for months. When asked where the couple had met, the source revealed a local New York nightclub noted for its edgier crowd.”
“Oh.”
“So, I have to ask…” he said, drawing out his question, toying with me now.
“Don’t,” I said, remembering something about paparazzi being able to tap phones. “I don’t think I want to discuss that over the phone.”
“How about in person?”
“It’s a little late.”
“It’s barely nine. I feel like I’m the last one to know all the important things, and I have questions.”
“Patrick, you of all people know—”
“I know, but come on. You owe me something.”
“Okay, but give me a minute. I’m not sure where I am.” I hadn’t looked at the address of my new building.
“Don’t worry about that. I’m in the lobby.”
“The lobby!”
“Yes, it’s amazing how intrusive the paparazzi can be. I recognized the building from the photo. Is he there with you?”
“I’m not saying anything else on the phone. Let me get out of the bath. I’ll come down and get you.”
“You know, you could just buzz me up. What floor are you on?”
“Top.”
“You might want to call down to the desk and tell them to let me up. I can entertain myself while you make yourself decent.”
“Are you alone?”
“Yes, Cy’s out of town.”
“Well, hang up then, so I can call the front desk.” How the hell do I do that?
Remembering the landline in the foyer by the elevator, I wrapped a towel around myself and padded out. A simple call to the number marked Front Desk, and Patrick was on his way. I disappeared back to the bedroom and slipped on a comfortable pair of sweats and a cotton sweater.
When I returned, Patrick was raiding the bar.
“Nice digs, girl.”
“Thank you.”
“Got any snacks?” He lifted a stopper to a bottle and sniffed. “Ah, the good stuff. You want some?”
The crystal decanter looked like it held scotch or whiskey.
I lifted my glass and held up the bottle. “I’m drinking wine.”
“Well, bring it over, and tell me all about your prince.”
We settled on the couch, and I began with the disastrous hook-up in the club. A couple of hours later, Patrick called for a ride home, and I snuggled into bed. It felt good to have someone to talk with about Infidelity. I hadn’t gone into details. As my sponsor, Patrick understood the complexities of our arrangement. He answered a lot of my questions, like how much time he spent away from Cyrus and how that affected their relationship.
Pulling the covers tight below my neck, I spiraled into dreams of kneeling before Richard and other delicious things.
One night.
One blissful night.
I prayed we would have many more.
Chapter 28: Heir
Richard
Mum and I sat vigil. My eyes burned with fatigue, and I ached to crawl into bed, preferably one with Rowan in it. The few times I’d dozed off, memories of our night had drifted into my dreams.
“You’re falling asleep again,” Mum said, snapping me awake.
“I’ve had a long day.” A sleepless night with Rowan, followed by a flight through the night, topped by vigil over my brother’s broken body, and I’d passed exhausted hours ago.
“We’ve both had long days,” Mum said, dismissing my exhaustion. “We need to discuss what happens next.” The sharpness of her words snapped at me.
“No, we don’t.” I refused to believe Edmund wouldn’t pull through.
“We need to talk.”
“Why don’t we wait to hear what the doctors have to say first?” Her lack of faith made my jaw clench and my fingers curl tight.
“You know what they’re going to say.”
She’d cried through the night, and I had done little to offer comfort.
“I don’t want to talk about it. Edmund will pull through.” Maybe, if I said it with enough conviction, my faith would make it happen.
“You’ve always been too quick to speak when you should stay silent,” she said, chastising me. “We’re going to have this talk because I know what they’re going to say. Even if Edmund survives this injury, the swelling on his brain—”
“Can get better with time.” My voice threatened to crack, but I kept it steady and strong, even as I fell apart inside.
She blew out a breath. “I was here when they brought him in. I saw the initial scans. While you were flying home, I was talking with his physicians. If he survives, the brain damage will be extensive. He’s no longer fit to rule. You need to prepare yourself.”
“I won’t!” I yelled. Then, lowering my voice, I continued in a whisper, “I can’t.”
Despite the distance that separated us, I truly loved my brother. When we were younger, he’d lorded his birthright over me. I’d hated him for it. To say it’d caused friction would be an understatement. I didn’t deny that. With time and wisdom, I had come to accept my place and found happiness in the freedom of living without the oppressive weight of that obligation. After being the butt of all the jokes growing up and being dubbed Richard the Spare Heir, this couldn’t be happening. I hadn’t been groomed to rule. The crown wasn’t meant to be mine.
“You will be the future King of England.” She placed her hand over mine.
I leaned over the frail form of my brother. “How can you give up so easily?”
Her scowl was deep enough to darken the room, but I held her stare with a greater force of will.
“I have not given up. He’s my son. I want nothing more than for him to open his eyes, but I’m also the Queen of England. I must plan for the future. You need to be prepared to do the same.”
My place was beside my brother, supporting him as the future king, not stealing his crown.
“We won’t have privacy for long,” she said, “and we need to discuss succession.”
“What’s there to discuss?” My entire world tipped on its axis.
She tilted her head. “You need to think of your heirs.” Pushing away from the bed, she walked to the window. “It seems news has finally broke.” Glancing down, she pursed her lips. “It’s time to come home,” she said, making her statement a proclamation. “Your jaunt across the pond is at an end. We will present a brave and united face to the world. You need to settle down. You can’t chase every pretty thing. I’ve seen the photos of your latest fling. You must to find a suitable bride. England needs to know the future of the Crown is secure.”
Her words slammed into me with the full force of a regal command. My chest ached, and my breath splintered. I couldn’t leave Rowan, not when she’d tunneled deep inside to become a part of me.
“You need to meet Rowan before you dismiss her that easily.”
“She’s an American.”
“So?”
“Her father was an embezzler, and she has no—”
“Her family is one of the most prominent names in the South. Her heritage stretches back generations.
You couldn’t ask for a better lineage.” If it was all about establishing bloodlines appropriate for the crown, Rowan had that in spades. “Sure, her father made mistakes. He paid for them.”
“He took his own life, Richard. That’s hardly admirable.”
“I’m not interested in Rowan’s father.” I firmed my voice. “If you’re concerned over her pedigree, look again, Mum.”
“The crown needs the stability of a vetted union, one which strengthens the family. No matter her pedigree, the girl is destitute.” Her lips pressed into a thin slit and then twisted with displeasure. Deep, linear lines furrowed my mother’s face, making her look shrewish. “You will cut ties with her. There’s no reason to return to New York. That relationship ends now.”
I tempered the anger boiling to the surface. Thoughts of ending things with Rowan made my chest squeeze and my heart splinter. “You cannot decree whom I do and do not date.”
“No,” she said, her lips pinching even tighter, “but I do control who you marry. As long as I’m alive, I will not sanction that relationship. It’s best to end it before she entangles herself any further in your life.”
I turned to my brother, stunned by how fragile he looked.
Edmund had always been taller, stronger, smarter, more vigorous, and definitely more kingly than me. Despite the animosity lingering between us, I did not wish this upon him, but I had to accept the truth. He would not be recovering from this. That meant, my obligations to the crown had to come first from here on out, but I wasn’t yet done with Rowan.
I gritted my teeth and faced my mother. “I decide when to end things with her, not you.”
In a year, it wouldn’t matter. In a year, Rowan would walk away, and I would head to my destiny.
Chapter 29: One Week
Rowan
One week of class dragged for what seemed like an eternity. I barely paid attention and almost missed turning in two assignments. I couldn’t concentrate and most certainly couldn’t focus on studies. Not while ambling around that empty penthouse until all hours of the night. It was huge, lonely, and barren of any of Richard’s things. There was nothing to remind me of him, and without that, it was as if he didn’t exist.
The Fidelity World- Nondisclosure Page 15