“Well, you’re not wrong. Granny is actually very fit, and given what she’s endured through the years, I hardly think a granddaughter eloping will push her over the edge. However, Daisy is very close to Granny, and I think the idea that she might have hurt her is what finally made Daisy give in.”
“Hmm. Well.” I ran my fingers through my hair, trying to work out some of the snarls. “I guess that’s a good thing.”
“Of course, it is.” Nicky had turned to type on his laptop again. “I don’t know what the hell she was thinking, marrying a man she’d just met. A man namedRoc, for the love of God.” He tapped away on the keyboard for another few moments before turning back to me. “My father emailed me this morning. It turns out Roc is actually Griffin Rockingham, the second son of the Marquis of Rockingham.”
My eyes widened. “Wow. So Roc is ... kind of nobility, too? He’s not just a working-class photographer?”
Nicky chuckled. “Hardly. Even as the second son, he stands to inherit a nice sum of money, though no title, of course.”
“Of course,” I echoed. In my cram sessions on the British peerage, I’d learned all about the levels of aristocracy. Marquesses were up there just below dukes.
“Not that his rank makes any difference.” Nicky shook his head. “My parents are actually very open-minded people. It was the idea of the running off to get married that upset them. They’d have welcomed Roc to the dinner table no matter who he was, if Daisy asked. They still might, if she decides to keep seeing him even after they’re no longer married.”
“Your parentsareopen-minded,” I agreed. “Look how easily they welcomed me, the ignorant American, into the family.”
Nicky nodded gravely. “That was the example I was thinking of. I just wasn’t going to say it aloud.”
Pretending to be wounded, I opened my mouth wide in feigned shock and jabbed him in the ribs as I passed. “Nice way to talk about the woman you’re going to marry in a few months, bud.”
“Hey.” He caught my hand to keep me from walking away. “I didn’t say it. You did. I only agreed.” He pulled me onto his lap, sliding his chair back from the desk to give us more room. “And I only did it to tease you. You know, or you should know, anyway, how much I adore you, American or no. And you’re never obnoxious.” He paused. “However, if you got your eyebrow pierced like Roc, I think it would really go a long way into helping you to fit into the Royal Family.”
“Oh, sure,” I retorted. “I can just see the papers now, not to mention the expression on the Queen’s face—”
My telephone bleated, interrupting me, and I dove across the bed to answer the call before it stopped ringing.
“Oh, it’s my mother. Probably calling to scold me about the interview and find out the dirt on Daisy.” I wagged my eyebrows at Nicky and hit the button to accept the call. “Hey, Mom. How are you?”
“Kyra.” Even across the miles, across the ocean, I could hear the tears she was crying as her voice broke. “Kyra, I don’t know—I hate having to do this on the phone—oh, Ky. Sweetheart, it’s Handsome. Your grandfather passed away this morning.”
ONE OF THE PERKS OFbeing part of the Royal Family—or nearly part of it—was that in the event of a crisis, everything flowed with incredible smoothness. In the numb hours that followed my mother’s call, I was dimly aware of Nicky talking to people, making plans, taking over so that I didn’t have to think. For that, I was grateful beyond measure.
People moved around me, but I didn’t notice them. Sophie was at the cottage, and distractedly, I wondered who had called her and how she had gotten there; I didn’t remember her arriving.
Alex sat down with me, holding my hand but not saying a word. The memory that she had suffered tremendous loss pierced my own fog of grief, and I was pathetically grateful for her quiet presence.
I didn’t know how many hours had passed since I’d heard the news when Nicky came to kneel in front of me, where I sat frozen on the sofa in our sitting room.
“Ky, love, we’re leaving for Florida in about an hour. The flight is all set, and my mother and Daisy have packed for you. Do you want to check the bags and see if they missed anything?”
I shook my head. If there was anything left behind, I could get a replacement once I reached the States, or I could borrow something from my sisters. The idea of having to stand up and do something constructive was intolerable.
“Kyra.” Daisy was here, and I frowned, thinking that she had to have been exhausted after her whirlwind trip to Scotland and back, and then all of the emotion of the last few days. “Ky, darling, let me help you upstairs so you can shower and get dressed.”
I shook my head again. Moving meant this was all real, and I wasn’t ready for it to be real yet. If I could just stay here comfortably on our sofa, it might still be a dream. A terrible one, certainly, but a dream nonetheless.
“Kyra, you have to get dressed.” Nicky framed my face with his hands. “Love, you’re in your robe, and we can’t fly to Florida with you like that. You have to put on clothes.”
Something clicked in my mind, and I realized that flying to Florida meant going to the airport and getting on an airplane ... surrounded by people who would stare and whisper, because I was no longer just Kyra Duncan; I was Kyra Duncan, fiancée of the prince. There would be press, and they’d be yelling at me as they always did. I couldn’t take that. Not today.
“Nicky,” I whispered, speaking for the first time in hours. “I can’t have all the reporters—please do something so that I don’t have to see them. Please. I can’t handle that today.”
“Sweetheart, it’s already taken care of. Sophie has made arrangements.” He paused. “And believe it or not, most of them do have some sense of propriety when it comes to times like these. Some sort of decency overrides the need to get the story. Try not to worry. But you do need to put on clothes, all the same.”
Daisy took my free hand, the one that Alex wasn’t holding. “Come on, Ky. Let’s go upstairs. Alex will help us, and then you can be on your way.”
I managed to climb the steps to our bedroom, where Nicky’s mother was setting out a pair of low-heeled black pumps.
“You didn’t have a black dress, but Alex had one that will work for the flight.” The Duchess straightened and held out her arms to me. “Oh, Kyra, darling, we’re so sorry. Your grandfather—what a wonderful man he was. He was such a good friend to my mother, after he married Maggie—your Honey—and she was very fond of him. I have happy memories of both of your grandparents from when I visited the States with my mother, when I was a little girl. He’s going to be so missed.”
