“If you could manage to do it in ink that was only visible to me, that would be perfect. But since all the reporters would love to crow about the obnoxious, clueless American with writing on her hand, I think we’ll have to do this my way and hope for the best.” I clenched my fingers together. “I don’t want to embarrass you, Nicky. I want to make you proud of me.”
“I already am, Ky.” He caught up my hand. “I don’t expect you to become a cookie cutter member of the family firm. I want to see you make this role your own, as much as you want to do it. If you decide in a few months that you hate doing this kind of thing, that royal engagements are too much for you or just too boring or ... well, anything. Then we can back away from it.”
I frowned. “What do you mean? Back away?”
Nicky looked decidedly uncomfortable. “There’s no rule that says you have to take part in the royal schedule just because you’re marrying me. There’s precedent for younotdoing it, in fact. Many of my cousins have spouses who stay out of the family business.”
“But you do it. You told me yourself that you feel that representing your grandmother—the Queen—on these engagements is your duty as part of the family.” I stared at our joined hands.
“That’s true. Duty is a big deal in my family.” He smiled slightly. “But I’ve figured out on my own a way to combine that duty with things I love, the foundation here in the UK and the larger anti-hunger organizations worldwide. I give a little time there and a little time for the less interesting but still necessary things ... and it works. I hope it will for you, too. My point is that if it doesn’t, that’s all right.”
“I want to be part of it. I’m going to give it my best, Nicky.” I straightened in my seat. “I can’t make a decision for the long-term until I give it a try, right?”
“You’re about to find out, then, because here we are.”
The car slowed to a halt, drawing up to a curb where crowds of people waited, held back by several members of the police. I had a fleeting impression of bunches of flowers and many faces turned to peer inside the car just before the door opened.
Nicky climbed out first, and I thought distractedly that the lucky man didn’t have to worry about how he did it. Then the door next to me opened, and I went on auto-pilot, smoothing down my blue flared skirt, holding my legs together as I pivoted to drop my feet onto the street.
The cameras clicked, the flashes began to pop and the shouting started. I focused on that vague smile that I’d been practicing for weeks and turned to search out Nicky.
He was waiting for me, encouragement and love evident on his face. I allowed Harold, who was on our security detail today, to guide me around the back of the car to join the prince.
“Hello! Thank you for coming out today. Have you met my fiancée, Kyra? Here you are, darling.”
And then I was in the thick of it, shaking hands, accepting flowers and standing still as people took quick pictures with their phones. I forgot all of the rules I’d been so busy learning and memorizing and simply let myself be.
“Oh, look at you.” I knelt next to a stroller where a chubby baby girl with dark ringlets sat. “Aren’t you adorable!”
“Her name is Elizabeth, after the Queen.” The baby’s mother laid a gentle hand on her daughter’s head. “Because she was born on Her Majesty’s birthday.”
“Isn’t that sweet.” Nicky stood a foot away from me, mugging for the camera for a group of teens, and I reached up to tug at his sleeve. “Nicky, look. Isn’t she just lovely?”
“A little beauty,” he agreed, grinning at the baby and then glancing at her mother. “Congratulations. You’re very blessed.”
“Thank you, sir.” She bobbed a little curtsy, her cheeks going pink. “Might I have a picture with you both and the baby, please? It would mean so much, and I could put it in her baby book, even though she’ll never remember it.”
“Oh, we can do that, can’t we?” I beamed at Nicky, whose brows drew together.
“Ah ...” He glanced back until he spotted Sophie, who had come in another car and was here to help me make sure everything ran smoothly. She’d been carefully staying in the background, but now, Nicky beckoned to her.
“Sophie, can you take a picture for this lady, please?” He held out a hand to the baby’s mother. “I’ll hand your phone to Sophie, if you don’t mind—then you can be in the photo, too.”
The expression of surprise on Sophie’s face didn’t escape me, and as Nicky and I flanked the stroller, I wracked my brain, trying to remember if this had been on my list of no-no’s. I knew we weren’t supposed to allow selfies, as it meant the picture taker turning his or her back on us, which was considered rude, but what was the harm of allowing a photo taken by someone else?
Sophie snapped the picture, returned the phone to its owner, who thanked us both profusely. Nicky pressed his hand to my upper back, steering me toward the doorway of the Center.
“We should go in now. We don’t want to delay their schedule here.”
I kept on my smile and leaned toward him a bit. “Was the picture a problem? I’m sorry.”
“No.” He waved to a group of people pressed up against the police rope as we climbed the steps. “Not really. It’s just that it can set a dangerous precedent—you do it for one person, and everyone wants one. Then you’re stuck either telling some people no or posing endlessly and getting behind schedule, which affects not only us but the people we’re here to visit.”
“Oh.” I bit the corner of my lip and then immediately released it, remembering my training. “I didn’t think of that. She was so nice, I thought it would be all right.”
“It was.” Nicky patted my arm and then slid his hand down to hold mine. “It’s just maybe something you don’t want to encourage. In those cases, generally, I just carry on talking to the child or the baby, or I hold the baby, so the mum can take the picture of the two of us without it becoming a big deal. We can’t stop people from snapping photos, but we can work around it.”
“Okay. Lesson learned.” I squared my shoulders as Nicky drew me up to meet the officials who ran the Center.
