I spent a crazy amount of time trying to come up with the perfect title for this week’s column, but in the end, there wasn’t much else to call it beyond what I did.
The marriage ceremony of His Royal Highness Prince Nicholas, the new Duke of Kendal, to Ms. Kyra Duncan of the United States of America might not have been the wedding of the century or even the decade. The prince isn’t in close line for the throne; there are plenty of other male and female relations standing in front of him. He’s a grandson of the Queen, but he’s one of her many grandchildren.
Be that as it may—the wedding that took place yesterday at St. George’s Chapel in Windsor captured the imagination of the world. It was a love story, and a royal love story, at that. No one can resist such a thing.
Those of you who have become regular readers of this column in the short time I’ve been writing it will know that I’m not exactly the type to wax on about fashion and romance. That’s why I asked my girlfriend to give us the official description of the wedding gown and everything else involved in that part of the ceremony.
According to Sophie, the gown was made of white silk and boasted a beau neckline with an A-line skirt. The fabric was simple and unadorned except for the small ribbon belt at the natural waistline. The bride wore the famous Lotus Flower Tiara, borrowed from Her Majesty the Queen’s collection, and a long veil embroidered with hyacinth, a spring flower that is apparently of personal significance to both the bride and groom.
The bride was attended by her two sisters, Ms. Lisel Duncan and Ms. Bria Duncan, as well as by a number of pages and flower girls, all of whom were relations or friends of the prince. The exception was the inclusion of Miss Natasha Colward, whom the former Ms. Duncan met in the course of her work as patron of the Tottenham Community Gardens.
The bride was escorted up the aisle by her father, Mr. Sage Duncan. Sitting on the bride’s side of the church were her mother, Niki Duncan, and her grandmother, Maggie Duncan, as well as other relatives from the states. The bride’s late grandfather, Cal Duncan, was represented by an empty seat left in the front row.
At the close of the ceremony, before the new Duke and Duchess recessed out of the church, they paused at the empty chair, and the Duchess left a sprig of flowers there in the vacant chair, in memory of her grandfather.
The ceremony was performed by the Bishop of York and by Bishop Lewis Connor of Philadelphia, the bride’s home diocese. Music included favorite hymns of both the bride and groom as well as a solo of Ave Maria sung by the soprano Della O’Roarke.
Once they emerged into the sunshine of the spring day, the couple paused at the top of the steps, and to the delight of the gathered crowd, shared their first kiss as husband and wife.
After the service, the Queen and the Duke of Edinburgh hosted a wedding luncheon for a hundred and fifty guests at Windsor Castle. Later that night, the Duke and Duchess of Westhampton threw a larger, more relaxed party for three hundred at nearby Fort Belvedere. For that party, the bride changed into a short white dress with a full skirt and white Converse sneakers. In attendance were many celebrities, including music star Ed Sheeran, who serenaded the couple for their first dance.
The Duke and Duchess of Kendal will be on their honeymoon at an undisclosed location for the next two weeks, after which time they will return to London to resume their official duties, including the Duchess’s job as sourcing director for her family’s company, Honey Bee Juices.
In this column, I’m allowed to step outside my strict journalistic impartiality and comment as I see fit. As an American, I’ve always been a little cynical about the Royal Family, and when I took a job covering Ms. Duncan after she moved to London, I didn’t expect that to change.
But I’ll admit that getting to know her and seeing the good that she and her now-husband are doing for Great Britain is refreshing. Prince Nicholas and Kyra are not stuffy, old-fashioned people; like the prince’s cousins, I believe they’re going to bring a much-needed breath of fresh air to the Royal Family. And they’re doing this on their own terms, in thoroughly modern and personal ways. I applaud them for this.
In closing, I’m taking the opportunity to make a few more personal announcements. First, this will be my final column for this publication. I’ve been offered a position covering science and technology for a well-known British news magazine, and I’m eager to get back to my first love. Thank you for your support of this column; I hope you’ll consider following me in my new role.
Second, speaking of love, I’m also pretty damn happy to announce my own engagement to Ms. Sophie Kent, former press liaison for the Duchess of Kendal. Ms. Kent recently left that position to take a job as head of public relations for Honey Bee Juices.
The wedding will take place sometime this fall, but I can promise that it won’t be anywhere near as grand as the one we attended yesterday. Still, both weddings will have some things in common: a lot of love between the bride and groom, a hot kiss after we say I do ... and a kick-ass party afterward.
Thanks for reading.
“SIR.”
The soft knock on our bedroom door jolted me awake. I glanced down to see if the sound had disturbed Kyra, but she didn’t move a muscle. Her eyes were closed and her lips slightly parted as she breathed, slow and even. The white sheet covered her breasts, but just barely. I smiled as I thought of what lay beneath the sheet and of what we’d just enjoyed together.
So far, married life was pretty damn sweet.
I stood up carefully and reached for my pants, pulling them on and buttoning the fly before I opened the door and stepped out onto the wide verandah of our thatched hut.
The man who’d knocked wore a plain gray suit that was in sharp contrast with our surroundings. The swaying palm trees, white sand and crystal-clear ocean water didn’t exactly lend themselves to business attire. But I knew that this man wasn’t here for pleasure. He was part of the security detail assigned to Kyra and me; even on this remote tropical island, safety was a concern. While the men and women who protected us here wore more relaxed clothes suited to a vacation in order to blend in, Mr. Pearson was the head of the contingent, doing his work from behind a desk in an office. He didn’t need to dress the part.
But if he was here, interrupting the late afternoon nap that Kyra and I had been enjoying, something serious was the matter. Immediately, my thoughts went to my grandmother, the Queen, who while seemingly in robust health, was in her nineties. No one lived forever, but even so, I wasn’t quite ready to say good-bye to my beloved Granny yet.
As if reading my thoughts, Mr. Pearson shook his head. “It’s not the Queen, sir. To the best of my knowledge, Her Majesty is in good health.”
“All right.” I expelled a long breath. “Thanks for that. What’s going on, then?”
“I hate to bother you during this time, but I felt you’d want to know. The Palace has received another threat directed to you. This time ... it seems to be more serious and more credible.”
I nodded, my face impassive. Anyone in the public eye quickly became used to rants and accusations from nut jobs and other angry people. It was impossible to make everyone happy, and trying to do that was a losing game. The Royal Family was no exception. My family could piss off the population simply by existing, it seemed; there were always those who hated what they saw as our undeserved privilege and our place in history. Some despised us for the past actions of our ancestors.
As I said, some people are just looking for a reason to hate.
But in the past few months, my office at Kensington Palace had received an escalating number of letters, emails and messages from people opposing my work to protect the environment and to provide healthy food for those in danger of hunger and starvation. Feeding the hungry seemed like a fairly innocuous cause to espouse, yet I’d learned quickly that there were those who opposed how that might be accomplished. I’d been told that if people were hungry, they should learn to take care of themselves. I’d been accused of being a bleeding heart, an ignorant aristocrat and even a communist.
