Highness (21 page)

Richard agreed.  “Since he was a boy, I’ve noticed the same.  But I’m inclined to believe that he will be a better king for it.”

Geoff shrugged. “That could be.  But growing up in your shadow was never easy for him.  Sure, he got the girls and the popularity because of his looks, but you were so fucking put together.”  He abruptly stopped and cringed. “Forgive my profanity.”

Richard quipped. “Not a fucking problem.”

Geoff exhaled and took another drink. “Hope doesn’t seem to care at all about his title. I know for a fact that she couldn’t see him, so she didn’t even know he was handsome.  She had no idea he had even a pound to his name.  When she fell for him, it was instantaneous and it was genuine.”

“Exactly what Michael was looking for,” Richard said, finishing his drink.  “Exactly what I told him wasn’t possible.”

“You said it,” Geoff said, sitting back in the chair.  “He loves her for her honesty and her ambition and how tough she is.  She lost her family; he lost his father.  They both have been hurt by the people that they thought loved them.  They are sort of kindred spirits.”

Richard understood perfectly.  “And now here we are plotting like Brutus and his senate in the middle of the night to stab Caesar in the back.” He put down his glass. “I’m not proud of it.  And I’ll not hide my hand.  But have you seen the newspapers. Have you heard the public outcry?  Because they have not given an interview or one explanation of their relationship, speculation is at the highest that I’ve ever seen.”

“Maybe they should give an interview then?” Geoff said, knowing that was not the direction that the conversation was going.

Richard rubbed his hand over his smoothly shaven face. “I love my brother.  I always have.  After father passed, I swore to do my absolute best by him, and that’s why it shames me to say this, but certain ties must be severed.”

Geoff didn’t answer.  There was no need to answer. He wasn’t here to make a final decision, just to deliver a message.  Knowing his place, he settled for hiding his approval behind one final gulp of scotch.  “What does Your Highness require of me,” he said formally.

***

Hope had settled into the studio and began to work, so Michael excused himself and went to his study to handle some unattended responsibilities.  It was strange.  Although she was only a few rooms away, he felt she was too far.  It was hard for him to concentrate as he tapped on his computer.  He wanted to go back into the studio, grab a seat and watch her work.  Better yet, he wanted to throw her on the floor and make love to her again. 

He tried hard to get a grip on his emotions, but they grew exponentially by the day? Was this what love truly was?  If so, he had been sorely misguided before.  Hope was brilliant, funny and just.  She was so incredibly honest until he found it hard not to ask her what she thought on all subjects in his life.

There was one subject in particular that was looming in the front of his thoughts.  With Richard getting ready to take the seat when his mother passed, which would be a long while, based upon how well physically, she was. It left Michael with nothing but time to think of his own life.  He had talked to Hope about his desire to return to Africa and continue with his work there.  He wanted to continue his work at the village he had spent so much time in and work on further developing his infrastructure. He wanted to travel the continent to continue to talk with leaders about better schools and better global opportunities.  He wanted to get the hell away from London.

And where Thalia had quickly tore down his idea, Hope found it to be a remarkable one.  And when he had asked if she would travel with him, she had agreed. 

There were a few other questions now that he wanted to ask.  But he felt foolish about them.  After all, while he was in love, he was still a sensible man.  And Hope was a sensible woman. He didn’t want to scare her away with too much at once.  But maybe since he had convinced her to stay in London with him, he could also convince her of his other proposals. 

Hearing the doorbell, he raised his head from his computer.  Other people might very well receive unannounced guests, but he was a prince.  Such a thing was not done.  Making his way quickly and curiously downstairs to the front door, he opened it to find Geoff standing in the rain, just under the entryway.

“Shit, you gave me a start,” Michael said, smiling.  “Come on in.”

Geoff did so quickly, leaving the guards, who were always there, alone in the rain to keep watch as normal.

Wiping the rain water from his face, Geoff looked around the apartment and smirked. “It’s strange not having your staff here to greet me.”

Michael ran a hand through his blonde curls.  “Well, I didn’t really want them to see me like this,” he said, motioning down to his boxers.  “Plus, Hope and I like our privacy.”

“How is she?” Geoff asked, walking with Michael into the sitting room.

“She’s great,” Michael said, sniffing his friend. “Have you been drinking?”

“Just a couple of scotches,” Geoff said, sitting down.  His brow furrowed.  “I need to talk to you. It’s important. Otherwise, I would have rang first.”

Michael’s face tightened.  Closing the doors behind him, he folded his arms across his chest.  “What does he want?”

“He wants you and Hope to join him at Balmoral tomorrow evening,” Geoff said, releasing a deep breath.

“Nothing good ever happens at fucking Balmoral.” His blue eyes narrowed. “You didn’t answer my question.  What does he want when we get there?” Michael asked, lowering his voice just in case Hope came to the door.

“It’s been run all the way to the top.  This discussion is about Hope,” he said, refusing to lie to his friend.  “They believe that she is a liability to the entire country.  Since the relationship has gone public, it’s been a crisis.  Even the stocks taken a significant dip.”

Michael was well aware of the stocks. He had seen a drop in his own but didn’t care.  He focused on the thing he wanted to know the most. “The top?” Michael said, walking over to the window. “You mean my mother.”

“She knows, yes.”

“And just what did the queen mother say?” Michael asked sarcastically.

Geoff sucked his teeth.  “To end it.”

That made Michael laugh. Turning around, he shook his head.  “Just like that, eh?  End it. Send her packing.  Who the fuck do these people think that they are?  I’m not the fucking prime minister. I didn’t sign up to run this country.”

Geoff raised a hand. “Forgive me. I know you’re angry, and I expected you to be, but I have to tell you based upon the number of men who were gathered at your brother’s behest, this won’t just go away because you choose to ignore it. I’d worry about more drastic measures later. You must face this head on for Hope’s sake.”

Michael silenced his rant. Breathing heavily, he put his hands over his mouth to keep from screaming aloud.  A silent chaos was clawing at his insides as he took a deep breath.

“If they intend to push my hand, they won’t like the outcome,” he threatened.

Geoff nodded. “I know, Your Highness.  But what say you?  Will you attend the meeting with Hope?”

Michael got his wits about him and smiled. “Please tell Prince Richard that we will attend.”

Standing up, Geoff debated if he should tell his friend the other part, the most important part, that Richard was dying, but he could tell by the redness in Michael’s face that he had better stick to what he was charged to do.

“May I take my leave, sir?” Geoff asked formally. “You may,” Michael said, turning from him.

Chapter 20

Hope could not make a decision.  As she stared into the walk-in closet full of designer dresses that Michael had ordered and had delivered the night before, she was absolutely flabbergasted by the vast array of choices.  He had already bought her so many clothes, but tonight was different.  He wanted her to look special to meet his family – the Royal Family.

Just the idea of meeting Richard and his wife, his mother – the Queen of England and whoever else was invited was freaking her out. She didn’t know anything about eating with 20 utensils.  She didn’t know how to properly greet a royal.  She didn’t know how to talk to one?  She’s be a complete fish out of water while making an utter fool of herself in a $10,000 designer dress.

As if there wasn’t enough pressure on her, she couldn’t quite figure out what was wrong with Michael.  He seemed different after Geoff had stopped by yesterday, but he didn’t say why.  And she loved him too much to press him. It was probably something to do with country business, a thing that she had no business meddling in the first place. Besides, if it were that important, surely he would have told her. 

A hairstylist, manicurist, make-up artist and personal assistant had been summoned before dawn to begin the royal prep for her, and it was now after 10:00 in the morning with a goal of being done by three.  Plus, Michael had insisted on full breakfast, massage and facial for her, while he went off to handle some
things
.

This had been the first time since he had arrived back in London that he had actually left the apartment, and she was quite glad that she didn’t have to go with him.  Even though she’d been a ghost, she had seen all the news stories and read the blogs, articles and social media.  It was enough to make any sane person crazy.  So when he said that he’d be leaving alone, she nearly jumped for joy. 

Still, this entire prep process was stomach wrenching. He wanted her perfect and ready when he arrived back to take a private plane to a place in Aberdeenshire, Scotland called Balmoral Castle.  PERFECT.  The thought was terrifying, especially since she’d never been perfect in her entire life. 

Finally making her decision, she stood up from her chaise longue chair and pointed to the long black dress the assistant stood holding beside a shorter blue one.  “I like that one,” she said, scratching at her head, which was now covered in rollers. 

“This one, ma’am?” the assistant asked, voice sounding questionable.

“What’s wrong with it?” Hope asked, deflated. “Is it too revealing?”

The pudgy little woman in jeans, a green sweater and riding boots was flush with embarrassment.  “No, ma’am. It’s not that at all.  I just think with such a beautiful figure, you might want to show it off more.”

Hope shook her head. “Then help me, please.  What would you pick?”

The assistant burst into a sudden and bright smile. “I have just the thing.  Quickly ladies, pull out the Chanel dresses,” she said running back into the closet.

***

Buckingham Palace

10:30 A.M.

The hordes of people surrounding the palace and screaming Michael’s name was daunting.  They had been there since the media first spotted him leaving Kensington Palace.  All around the city, people gathered blindly hoping their destination might be where he ended up.  And many assumed based upon the fact that he had been holed up in his apartment for two weeks that his first stop might be at the Royal Palace. 

They were correct. 

As security pushed their way through the crowds and into the gates of the palace, he ducked his head and hid behind shades to keep the flash from blinding him even through his tinted windows.  It had to be hundreds of paparazzi out there all snapping their dreadful cameras at the same time.

Quickly escorted out by a large detail of security, he nearly ran to his mother’s private quarters.

“Good morning, Your Highness,” one of the Queen’s closest assistants said as he approached the door of his mother’s private chambers. She was obviously there to stop him, but such a thing would not be possible today. 

“Is she available?” Michael asked, looking past her at the closed double doors.

“I apologize.  The Queen is with someone,” her assistant said, motioning toward the parlor. “If you would just have a seat, she’ll be out…”

Michael had heard enough. This was no time for diplomacy.  And to hell with anyone that thought they were going to keep him from seeing his mother for another moment. 

Side-stepping past her, he pushed his way through the doors and past security to find his mother with the Duchess of Yorkshire. They both turned startled and looked at the man, visibly sweating.

Michael took a second to catch his breath.  Dipping his head out of respect, he stilled his shaky voice. “I need a word with you,” he said to his mother, ignoring the woman opposite her all together.

The queen, as graceful as possible, smiled at her son, and set down her porcelain cup of Earl Gray tea on the table.  “Would you be so kind as to excuse yourself until I am done?”

“Forgive my abruptness and my rudeness, Mother, but no I will not,” Michael said as security stood behind him, unsure of what to do. This was a first for them.  Never had the prince been so direct.  And if the Queen chose to have him escorted out, how would they be able to do so without creating a scene?

The Queen looked over at the Duchess, weighing all of her options quietly, and gave a smug smile of irritation.  “I’ll call on you later this week, and we can continue this intriguing conversation.”

“It will be a pleasure Your Majesty,” the Duchess said, putting her cup down on the table and standing.  With a curtsy, she quickly excused herself and the doors were closed and security gone.   

Michael walked up to the window and looked down at the people still crowding around waiting for a glimpse of him and shuddered in pure exhaustion. “Why would you not return my calls yesterday?  I told them it was urgent,” he asked, slipping his balled up fists into the pockets of his pants.

“I’m not here to serve you,” she said simply. Her eyes followed him as he paced.  “If I recall correctly, your phone has been unavailable for the last two weeks and for nearly a week while you were in the United States.” 

He turned to her and shook his head. “You know why?”

“Do I?” she asked softly.  Wiping her mouth with the napkin, she placed it on the table. 

“I knew what you would say?  I knew what you all would do, what you’re preparing to do in fact,” Michael said, clenching his square jaw. His beating heart nearly leapt out of his chest. “And I won’t give her up. I came here to tell you that.”

The Queen, in an elegant pink suit, behind an elegant bouquet of carefully crafted pink roses, sighed.  “You came here to beg me for intelligence about what is going to happen at Balmoral tonight. You came here to beg my allegiance in your quest to disrupt this country, but more importantly than that, my wishes.  You came here to rant at me like a teenage boy the way that you did when I insisted that you return that horrible Maserati that was gifted to you by the Sheik.”

“This isn’t like that and she isn’t an automobile!”  He snapped.

The sternness of her tight face pulled her son back into a place of proper respect.  Posture perfect, she motioned at the chair across from her.  “Do you expect me to actually sit and look up at you while you berate me?”  Her voice darkened. “Sit down.”

Michael did what she asked reluctantly.  “Why are you doing this?  You have your King.”

The queen’s face seem to break as he said the words.  “Your brother has important business that he would like to discuss with you tonight.  He wants to be the one to discuss it with you.  I will respect his wishes.”

“You can just tell me what he wants
now
. And then I can tell you what I’m going to do
now
. I don’t want to go to Balmoral and have him chastise me like a child.  And I won’t have him hurt Hope.  I promised her that much. God, for what she has been through, I owe her that much.”

The queen corrected him. “You’re behaving like a child now.”

“I am not a child,” Michael said, trying to control his temper. 

She shook her head.  “Grow up, Michael.  This world is bigger than you. And like it or not, after tonight, you will be required to be a child about your life no longer.  These foolish ideas that you have about life and your place in it must end.”

Michael placed his hand on the table.  “I love her.”

“You barely know her,” she said, forgetting herself.  “You are my son.  And I love you, and a part of why you are so spoiled is because I have overindulged you, but this can be no more.”

“I love her,” Michael repeated more gravely.  “And I won’t be without her.”

“You
will
be without her. You have a responsibility to this country and this family.  And you
will
be without this woman.”

“Her name is Hope Daniels,” Michael nearly spit out.

“I don’t care what her name is.”

“You should,” Michael said, eyes chaotic.  “You should all care.  And I love her, maybe not more than father loved you, but at least as much.”

“You barely know her. How can you love her?”

Michael understood her disbelief. “I know enough about her to know that whatever happens and whatever is revealed about her in the future won’t be enough to make me stop loving her.  I know that she makes me feel better about myself than anyone ever has, and I know that it won’t take years for me to know that she is who is best for me.”

The queen reached for his hand and held it gently. Her eyes pleaded with him for understanding.  She loved her son dearly and what she had to say pained her to her core.  Gripping his hand, she whispered the words.  “You cannot marry her.”

Michael looked at her withered, gentle hand and then lifted it to his mouth. Kissing it, he set it down on the table and stood up.  Agony was evident on his face as he tried to formulate the words, but they would not come out. 

“Michael,” the queen said, worried for him.  “Don’t go. Let’s talk about this calmly.” She tapped the table and begged for her son to return. 

Without a word, he ran a hand through his hair and looked up at the ceiling.  Taking a deep breath, he looked at her and smiled. “It has been, as always a pleasure, Your Majesty,” he said, turning his back to her, and then walked out of the room.