The Runaway Princess (23 page)

Liza wasn’t letting the ring thing go, though. “Let me see,” she said. “I haven’t seen this one in years. Sofia and I did a book a little while ago about all the family jewels—there are some magnificent pieces, you know. A lot of Cartier, a lot of Piaget …”

Shyly, I showed her my left hand. “I still can’t get used to seeing it there. I’m taking great care of it, obviously.”

“I hope you are,” she said. “Did Leo tell you how much it’s worth?”

“No,” said Leo quickly. “But it’s on my insurance.”

What? I hadn’t actually thought about that until now. Was I going to get mugged for wearing it? Should I be giving it back to Leo every night? I glanced at him.

He shook his head imperceptibly at me.

“Good. But Sofia’s not going to be happy.” Liza sighed. “You might have to buy her a present.”

“Why? I’m the first one to get engaged. And Granddad gave it to me.”

“But she feels she’s got a right to something—”

“Mom. You need to talk to her about this succession thing,” said Leo. “Pavlos e-mailed me this week to ask if I could do anything to calm her down. She’s talking about taking the whole thing to the Court—”

“So, have you two lovebirds set a date?” Boris asked, cutting across the fierce brow-furrowing going on across the table. “We need to give the palace souvenir people time to get their tea towels ready!”

He winked at me. Or maybe he was winking at the waiter, I didn’t know—a vast chilled champagne bucket appeared, anyway. I didn’t mind; I quite liked Boris’s winking. It didn’t have quite so much of an agenda as Liza’s sympathetic head-tilting.

“Yes, what were you planning? The cathedral? That would make such a magnificent setting.” Liza’s eyes lit up and she tapped her cheek with one perfect greige nail. “And so spectacular for photography. But maybe the family chapel would be more intimate? For an additional blessing?”

My heart started to sink. Leo and I hadn’t discussed the details, but we were pretty firm on the basics, and I had a feeling they weren’t going to go down very well.

Leo put his hand on mine. “Actually, Amy and I were planning on having a small informal wedding near her parents’ house in Yorkshire,” he said firmly. “Followed by a blessing back home in the chapel and a reception in the gardens.”

Liza nearly dropped her glass. “What? But you have to get
married
in Nirona. People expect it, honey!”

“No, they don’t. We’re not heirs to the throne. They might expect it for Serge and Guillermo—”

“I don’t think those two are getting married in a hurry.” Boris pulled an “if you know what I mean” expression.

“They’re
fifteen
, Boris.”

“—but I’m marrying as a private individual,” Leo went on. “I love the cathedral, you know that, but this is Amy’s wedding day. I want it to be in a place that’s special to her too.”

Liza was silent for a moment, then snapped, “How about we do a blessing in the cathedral? And the reception in the palace banqueting hall?”

“Cathedral, and gardens,” Leo shot back. “Not budging on the gardens.”

“Done. And the date?”

“Soon,” said Leo.

“But not too soon,” I said quickly. “I need to give my mum and dad time … to prepare everything.”

To be totally honest, I wanted to give Mum a chance to see a doctor about her anxiety, since there was no sign of Kelly
reappearing—the one thing that might cure Mum’s miserable, paranoia-driven comfort eating. She was so reluctant to leave the house in case anyone saw her that I wasn’t sure how she’d get through a whole wedding service. Especially once someone—top royal correspondent Di Overend, probably—reminded her that my new mother-in-law was an international supermodel and had been, just this week, hobnobbing with the First Lady about the importance of thank-you notes.

On top of that, Dad would want time to redecorate the house from top to bottom, and that wasn’t a ten-minute job, as he’d put it. I hadn’t discussed the ceremony with them yet—I wanted to let them get used to the idea slowly—but they were happy I’d chosen the tiny church near our old house. St. Cuthbert’s was so small the guest list would
have
to be minimal.

“There’s no … reason it needs to be soon? Not that it’s a problem, but I should let the PR team know. If you know what I mean.” Liza arched an eyebrow and I blurted out, “What? No!” a bit too loud.

“That’s a mind-your-own business, Liza,” said Boris. “In English.”

Under the table, I felt the gentle pressure of Leo’s ankle against mine.

“The only reason I want to get married soon, Mom, is because I can’t wait to introduce Amy to people as my wife,” he said, slipping his hand around mine again, and I thought my heart would burst with happiness.

*

T
he waiter took our order, and Liza asked me questions about Yorkshire while Boris pulled faces she couldn’t see to try to put me off. The wine gave me a touch of extra confidence, and I was beginning to think that having dinner with two princes and a
princess
-supermodel wasn’t actually that hard. I was even enjoying the curious glances we were getting from some corners of the room, as other diners recognized Liza and maybe even Leo.

As the waiter reappeared with pudding menus, I could see Leo frowning at something, and eventually he put his knife and fork down.

“Dad, is that your phone buzzing? You know you’re meant to turn them off in here.”

“What?” Boris slapped his jacket pocket. “Is it?”

“Come on, turn it off. Mine’s off.”

Boris looked like he was going to argue, but Leo raised his eyebrows, and Boris reluctantly extracted the phone.

“Fifteen missed calls,” he said. “Fifteen. You’d better hope none of them were George Clooney.”

“I thought you weren’t taking his calls after the villa thing.”

“I’m not. But now I need his villa.”

“Mom!”

Liza was surreptitiously checking her phone. Well, phones. She had two.

“I’ve got twenty missed calls,” she said.

“George?”

“Two from him. But ten from Nina.”

I cut a sideways glance at Leo.

“Nina is Mom’s assistant,” he muttered. “She doesn’t do missed calls.”

“I should call her back,” Liza announced. “It might be about the meetings tomorrow. I’m here to speak with the prime minister’s wife about my Everyday Princess campaign,” she told me. “I’m very much hoping to get the Duchess of Cambridge on board too, if she’s not too busy with her, well, I shouldn’t say what.”

Heads swiveled at the nearest tables.

But before she could start shimmying between the tables, the maître d’ approached. His nervous tension was visible from across the room; he had the windblown expression of someone who’d recently been yelled at.

“I’m so sorry to interrupt your meal, Your Highnesses,” he said, “but your assistant is outside and is very anxious to speak to you.”

“Can it wait until we’ve had some pudding?” asked Boris. “I spotted something on that menu that—”

“No, I think she would like to speak with you now. It was … very difficult to stop her coming in in person.”

“Of course we must speak with Nina.” Liza pushed her chair back and unfolded her elegant frame. There wasn’t a single lump or bump in her wool dress, which was more than I could say for my skirt. “Leo, Amy, would you excuse us for a moment?”

Leo stood politely while the maître d’ escorted them around the tables, and as soon as he sat down, Leo took my hand in his.

“Listen, I want to say this while they’re gone—I don’t want you to think that you’re not worthy of the cathedral and a big wedding.” He searched my face. “It’s just that being second-tier royal means we’re allowed a little more privacy. We get to do things our own way.”

“I understand that.” Still, though, the cathedral was magnificent …

He pressed on, clearly anxious that I didn’t get the wrong end of the stick. “I want you to have the day you want, not feel like you’re in someone else’s production. I love the idea of marrying in your village church. I’m honored to be part of that tradition.”

“Well, it would mean a lot to me. It’s where I always practiced getting married.”

“And don’t think you have to scale down the budget, just because it’s small. I can set up an account, and hire a planner to help your mom, and—”

“No,” I said. Hadn’t he been listening? “No, I want to organize it myself. Please.”

Leo took a big slug of wine, and I realized he was tenser than he was letting on. “That’s fine with me. Small is good. If Mom wants to stage-manage a big family number, she can do it when Sofia gets married. This is our day. Right?”

“Right.”

I turned the gold signet ring on his little finger round and round, then looked up.

“I sent one of the old English roses I sourced for your garden to your grandfather, for his garden,” I said. “I got the nicest note back. He said he hoped we’d invite him round for dinner in the summerhouse one night.”

“That is so typical of him, the old fox,” Leo began, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw a gray column moving between the tables like one of those big American twisters you see on the news.

In seconds, Liza was back at the table. Her smile was fixed at an unnatural angle with the effort of remaining calm; I recognized it from Grace’s strained conversations with her daddy on the phone.

“Mom, are you okay? What’s happened?” Leo was so worried he didn’t even drop his voice.

She slipped onto a chair and took his hand in hers. “Leo, honey,” she said. “Your grandfather’s had a heart attack. He’s been flown to the mainland and the doctors are doing all they can, but he’s in critical condition. He was in the garden and they think he was there for a while … on his own.”

“Oh, my God.” Leo went pale.

I gripped his other hand tightly.

“Your father and I are flying back right now. He wants us there. And you. Nina says …” She glanced around her to make sure no one could hear. “Nina says he’s been talking about Pavlos and the succession and—”

Leo pushed his chair back, and threw his napkin on the table. “Let’s go. Right now.”

And that was when everything started to get very blurry.

L
eo, Boris, and Liza were whisked away to the airport with a police escort and blue lights and sirens and everything. Nina and their team of assistants followed behind in a minivan, making calls and lugging Louis Vuitton bags as they went.

I stood on the pavement as the Wolfsburgs left, almost hidden by the curious crowd that had slowed down to watch, and blew Leo a kiss as he raised his hand from the back of the car. He looked upset, but had still managed to call Billy to take me home, and now the dark Range Rover was waiting for me at the curb.

Billy didn’t open our usual conversation about his wisteria, and we drove through the London night in silence. I couldn’t stop thinking about charming Willi in his rumpled linen suit; how different he’d been from the dignified statesman I’d met over dinner that same night. Only the twinkly eyes had been the same. I’d only spent an hour or so with him, but I could feel why Leo had looked so devastated as he sped away. I felt a hollowness in my own chest too.

*

A
s I put my key in the lock of our flat, Dickon appeared on the landing with Badger, who had streaks of blue paint up his white legs. The final trace of royal glamour vanished from my evening, banished by Dickon’s revolting slipper-socks and the smell of microwave curry.

“Your dog is even worse at modeling than you two,” he complained. “I’ve got one crap sketch of him and four canvases covered in blue paw prints.”

I gave Dickon a weary look. I wasn’t in the mood. “To be honest, Dickon, I’ve seen that canvas you’ve been drying in the airing cupboard, and I’d rather look at blue paw prints than Mrs. Mainwaring in the nip with a sponge cake covering her business.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my nudes,” said Dickon huffily. “The pictures of Irene are very Lucian Freud.”

I picked Badger up and he licked my nose, probably because I still smelled of Claridge’s finest Kobe beef. “Why’s he with you anyway? Where’s Jo?”

“She’s out. With that loud posh guy.”

“That doesn’t narrow it down.”

“The one with the Porsche. And the tight trousers.”

“Again, narrower?”

I sensed a smidgeon of jealousy from Dickon. He’d have to join the queue behind Ted if he was going to have a crush on Jo.

“The one who keeps sending stuff that
I
have to sign for because neither of you is
ever in
.”

My brow furrowed. “Rolf? Jo’s gone out with—” I stopped. Oh no. Maybe Rolf didn’t know about his grandfather!

At that moment, the front door opened again, and Jo stumbled in with a furtive expression on her face. Then she looked up and saw me and Dickon glaring at her over the railing and looked positively guilty, as if she’d been caught scoffing an enormous Big Mac meal.

“It was just a drink!” she protested, running up the stairs—in her highest heels and shortest skirt, I noted. “I was at a loose end! And the arse walked out on me anyway! I’m back now, aren’t—”

“Jo, come on in, I need to talk to you. And no, we don’t need any company, thanks,” I added, as Dickon tried to sidle into our flat behind her.

“Thanks so much for looking after Badger, darling.” Jo planted a sloppy kiss on Dickon’s unshaven cheek, which made me think that, (a) Rolf must have been keeping the mojitos flowing, and, (b) she must have left Badger at the very last minute. And, (c) Dickon looked a bit too pleased.

I locked the door behind us, and didn’t even bother when
Badger
trotted across to the sofa with his painty paws.

“Pleeeease don’t give me a lecture,” Jo sang, throwing herself on the sofa and kicking off her heels. “Rolf took me out for dinner to apologize for the last time, seeing as he’s going to be my flatmate-in-law and we’ll be going down the aisle together. You know, he’s actually quite sweet. In a sort of lounge-lizardy way. He asked me if I needed any help planning your hen night.”

“Oh, God,” I said faintly.

Jo gazed up at me, her face wreathed in smiles. “You have
no idea
what a hit you were in Nirona. Rolf told
me
that Leo told
him
that his grandfather’s been telling everyone who’ll listen how thoroughly charming you are. Leo’s English rose! Apparently everyone’s started hanging around the gardens pretending to be
interested
in flowers because roses are the new—”

I couldn’t let her go on. “Jo. Their grandfather’s had a heart attack. He’s in the hospital, and Leo’s flown back to Nirona with his parents to see him.”

Jo stopped rubbing her aching feet and looked up, shocked. “No! So that was where Rolf dashed off to.” She looked mortified. “I knew I shouldn’t have sent him those stroppy texts. …”

“Well, he should have warned you he was leaving in a rush.” I pushed myself off the sofa and went to make a cup of tea, before remembering there was no milk in the fridge because neither of us would admit we’d finished it. The chasm between Leo World and my own had never felt so sharp.

I made us two cups of out-of-date instant hot chocolate instead, and we sat and stared morosely at our phones waiting for messages, trying to resist the temptation to check online to see if the royal-watching sites had got hold of the news yet.
That
was weird.

I was about to crack and text Leo again when he rang from the hospital.

“How is he? How are you?” I asked breathlessly. Jo pretended not to listen in.

Leo sounded croaky. “Not good. I saw him for ten minutes, but he was covered in tubes and wires, and he’s had all the lawyers and advisors in there ever since. And they don’t turn up unless it’s serious.”

“I’m so sorry.” I gripped the phone, wishing I could be with him, even though I had no idea what I’d do. “I remember when my grandmother died … it’s awful when you can’t do anything. But it’ll mean a lot to him that you’re there.”

“I don’t know if he even knew I went in.”

“He will. Gran knew I’d been. I told her I’d do anything to make her better when I thought she couldn’t hear me, but the last thing she did was to tell the doctor I’d offered to take Badger.” I hesitated, not sure if it was appropriate, but Leo seemed to want to talk. “Mum was a bit put out, she thought Gran’s last words should have been about God or her kids or something, but apparently they were all to do with housekeeping.”

Leo tried to laugh, and my heart broke for him. This was something all the money in the world couldn’t fix.

“So he’ll know you came,” I said, feeling close to tears myself. I’d really liked Willi. He’d had that knack of making someone feel really special within just a few moments, just like Leo did. There were so many stories I wished I could have heard about “our” Trinity Square garden. And now I’d never get to know him properly.

“Amy, can you fly out in the morning?” Leo said. “I really want you to be here.”

“Won’t I be in the way? It’s a family time. …”

“You’re part of the family now. And I need you. Will you? I’ll ask Billy to pick you up, and Nina will arrange flights.”

“Of course,” I said without thinking, “I’m packing right now.” My eye fell on the overflowing basket of unwashed laundry, and I remembered I was wearing my spare spare spare knickers; thanks to my crammed work diary and my even more crammed Leo diary, housework had gone to the wall.

Without a word, Jo put her cocoa down and started loading the machine.

*

W
hen I arrived at the palace the next morning, it seemed that every single member of the immediate Wolfsburg family and all their attendant staff had flown to the hospital, so I spent three hours sitting in a high-ceilinged reception room in Boris and
Liza’s
east-wing apartment, waiting for someone to appear to tell me what was going on. I didn’t dare poke around too much in case someone caught me snooping, so I studied the oil paintings (Leo and Rolf were classic examples of blond/dark Wolfsburg manhood, give or take a breastplate or two), and drank cup after cup of Darjeeling tea from a bone china cup with the Nironan crest on it. (Two lions rampant, with gold ribbons and white roses.)

Eventually I had to stop drinking tea because I was too embarrassed to go and find someone to tell me where the loo was.

When Leo finally appeared at half two, in jeans and a fresh white shirt and hair that looked slept-on but all the more sexy for it, he wasted no time in spiriting me out through a side entrance into the gardens. He marched me through the Italian garden and the Australian bush garden to the private family gardens that tourists weren’t allowed in; then he grabbed me and gave me a tight hug that made the blood shoot round my body.

“I’m so glad to see you,” he said, pressing his nose into my hair. “Thank you for coming.”

“Leo,” I said, gently wriggling free, “is everything okay? What’s happening?”

He pulled a “not really” face, then sat me down on the nearest stone bench.

“Granddad died this morning.” I could tell he was struggling not to cry.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” I took his hands, threading my fingers through his.

“In a way, I’m glad. He was there at the end, but he was weak and there were problems—serious ones. He was a very active man, he’d have hated being on machines. It’s as if he was only hanging on long enough to …” He stared out over the garden and pressed his lips together.

“You don’t have to hold anything back for me,” I murmured into his shoulder. “It’s okay.”

Leo turned back to me with wet eyes. “You were saying how the last thing your grandmother did was to give you Badger?”

I nodded. “She thought I was the only one who’d look after him properly. It was typical of her that her last thought was about tidying up.”

“Well, the last thing Granddad did was to change the succession. Dad’s the new sovereign prince now. Not Pavlos.”

I blinked in surprise. “What?”

“Granddad apparently ‘remembered’ that Dad had been born ten minutes before Pavlos, and that he’d only said Pavlos was older because my grandmother had thought he was born first, and he didn’t want to contradict her in public.”

“But isn’t it on the birth certificate?”

Leo pressed his thumbs into his eyes wearily. He didn’t look as if he’d slept at all. “You’re not going to believe this, but they’ve produced a birth certificate that says otherwise. If I were a really suspicious person, I’d wonder if he’d had two done at the time for this very reason.”

“But why would someone do that?”

“To see how your two heirs shaped up and then decide later?”

“What? Like
The Apprentice
?” I realized a nanosecond too late that that probably wasn’t the most tactful way of putting it.

Leo shrugged and nodded. “It’s like I said, at the time the cabinet wanted a serious heir. Pavlos’s always been serious. He’s a qualified tax accountant—he does the family tax returns for fun. He represented Nirona at chess. The most controversial thing he’s done in his entire life is marry a Frenchwoman.”

“That’s not controversial.”

“I know. He’s … a bit dull. But, God, I should have seen it coming—things are different now, banking isn’t what it was, tourism’s on the way up again, and …” Leo wiped his face with his hand. “I guess Granddad felt that glamour’s where the money is, and that Mom and Dad will do a better job of keeping Nirona on the map. Mom’s got her media profile in the US, and Dad’s very popular. Sofia’s got some historical credibility, with the books she’s published about the family, I’ve got the banking experience, and even Rolf’s got connections in the entertainment industry. …”

He trailed off as his words sank in. I made myself count the seagulls flying across the bay to connect myself to this surreal conversation. I couldn’t take it in.

A leaden feeling was pooling in my stomach. I didn’t have connections to the entertainment industry. Or academic credibility. Or anything else that would count in Wolfsburg PLC. And it was so easy to get rid of people who didn’t fit.

I wondered how much money Boris was going to throw at the Pavlos problem. What sort of payoff did princes need?

One. Two. Three. Four.
There were a lot of seagulls here.
Five. Six
. Keep counting, don’t speak.
Seven. Eight.

“But what about Pavlos!” I said, unable to hold it in. “He’s devoted his whole life to being taken seriously! How does he feel, having it taken away from him? What about his kids? Haven’t they been sitting in every night eating pizza instead of going wild in Boujis?”

“I know it sounds harsh, but it’s not about him. It’s about what’s best for the country,” said Leo. “That’s always been drilled into us, even me and Rolf. Nirona’s like an extra dad. You’ve always got to put it first. How you behave, how you spend your holidays, what job you choose. If Granddad thought that what Nirona needed was a more glamorous, proactive monarchy, then Pavlos will just have to deal with it.”

I couldn’t think of anything to say. I was trying to relate the situation to something I’d felt myself, but the closest I’d got to this sort of thing was when Dad’s brother Terry had wanted my cousin Steve to take over the family bakery and he’d refused because of his skin condition and there’d been words. Even though, as Di Overend put it, no one likes a scabby bun.

“I mean, Pavlos might be happy for all we know.” Leo turned his palms up with a shrug. “He couldn’t do his orienteering at any sort of competitive level while he was the heir to the throne, in case of injury.”

“Well, that’s okay, then.” I knew I was taking it too personally, but there was nothing wrong with Pavlos. He was a bit dull, and a bit balding compared with Boris and Liza’s luxuriant manes, but not
dispensable
. “I’m sure Mathilde will be
relieved
she doesn’t have to be the reigning princess, if Pavlos can spend more time running around the local forests with a compass and a whistle. It’s every little girl’s
dream
to be married to a man in an
anorak.
”

Leo ran a hand through his messy hair, making it stick up even more. “Amy, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about on your own. Before anyone else gets back.”

“Um, okay.” This sounded ominous.