“Well hurry up.” Corina started out of the room, tossing her papa a glance. “Who knows what First Baptist will look like in another year without you.”
Daddy laughed and she paused at the door. “I love you, Daddy.”
“I’m sorry about your prince, Kit.”
She leaned against the doorway. “It’s not easy to catch a prince, even harder to keep one.”
“Seems you didn’t lose him, darling. He chose to walk off.”
“Either way, my love for him wasn’t enough to conquer death.” She shoved away from the counter. “But then you and Mama already know that, don’t you?”
“Kit . . .,” Daddy said.
“Right, give you time. What does Mama think about me marrying a prince?”
“She never said. All I heard was a gasp from her library. Then she was on the phone and, I don’t know, ran out shortly after breakfast. Haven’t seen her since.” Daddy tapped the newspaper against the kitchen counter. “Shall I fly to Brighton and have a talk with your young man?”
She laughed. “It’s too late. But thank you for asking.”
“Shug, if he really is your prince, don’t give up.”
Corina stopped his line of thinking with a flash of her palm. “I just spent a week trying to love well, and what I got was an annulment. But I did forgive him, Daddy.”
“That sounds like loving well to me.”
Corina jerked her thumb in the direction of the stairs. “I’m going to fix my flight home for tomorrow and take a nap. Tomorrow I’ll quit my job, then spend a week on the beach plotting my next move.”
“I know a few movie people if you need some help.”
“Hey, now you’re talking. We can get Clive Boston to star in the movie version ofHow to Catch a Prince. And lose him.”
“Don’t laugh, Kit. It can happen. Sounds like an Oscar winner to me. But don’t you think Clive’s a bit long in the tooth for such a role?”
“Don’t let him hear you say that.” Her laugh mingled with Daddy’s, and for the first time in five and a half years, Corina felt a little piece of the way things used to be. “Daddy, I know losing Carlos has been hard on us all, especially you, losing your son and heir, but don’t let it destroy us.”
“You’re my heir, Corina. But you’re right.” He nodded, but she could tell he still wrestled with his heart. “I’ll work on it as long as you promise me that the next time you get married, I walk you down the aisle. I’ve been looking forward to that since the day you were born.” He waved the newspaper at her. “I felt a little cheated when I read this.”
“I promise. And you know I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“Your Highness.” Archbishop Caldwell stepped aside for Stephen to enter his seaside cottage. A cozy abode with a clutter of books and papers stacked around the small living room. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“I hope I’m not disturbing you.” The place felt like home the moment Stephen walked in and sank into a plush, deepred sofa.
“No, no, not at all. This is my wife, Lola.”
“Your Highness.” She curtsyed. “Would you care for tea?” She picked up the magazines and books by Stephen’s feet and stacked them on an end table.
“Thank you, kindly. Tea would be lovely.”
“I’ve baked blueberry scones. Would you care for one?”
“Again, thank you.” Now that he was here, the tension eased from his gut and his stomach reminded him he’d walked out on his breakfast. “But please, don’t go to any bother.”
Her laugh bubbled. “Pshaw, ’tis no trouble a-tall. Mack, I gather you’d like some tea as well.”
“As long as you’re serving the prince.” Archbishop Caldwell removed his glasses, setting them on the table next to his chair. “It’s good to see you. It’s been a number of years. I heard your service in Afghanistan ran into a bit of trouble.”
Stephen sat forward, rubbing his hands together, warming away the chill of nerves. “Some, yes. Lost everyone on my crew but me.”
