“Um, sure, what’s up?” It wasn’t like Nathaniel to pass up puffs. Stephen motioned again for him to sit. “Robert, can you give us a moment?”
The valet-butler-aide set out another tea service, then left without a word, drawing closed the kitchen doors with multicolored stained-glass centers.
“At least have some tea?” Stephen reached for the china pot and filled the cup Robert left for the king.
“I guess I could use a cup.” Nathaniel sat, still holding the envelope.
“Why so glum? You and Susanna have a row?”
“No, we’re fine. More than fine. Trying for a baby.”
Stephen grinned. “Then why the long face, my brother?” Then he pointed to the envelope. “Please, don’t tell me you’re here about the Prince of Brighton argument again.”
Nathaniel set the envelope on the counter, patting it with his palm as if to make sure it stayed in place. “Not today, but the argument is moot. I don’t understand your resistance. As my brother, you are the Prince of Brighton. The coronation only makes it official.”
“Precisely, and with the official setting in, I become patron of what? Fifteen charities and organizations . . . including the War Memorial and Remembrance Day.”
“I would think you’d consider it an honor to patron the War Memorial and Remembrance Day. You fought for and were wounded for your country.”
“Don’t, Nathaniel.Youknow why.”
“I know what you tell me, yes, but I’m not quite sure I understand it all.”
“Shall I recap my final days in Afghanistan for you?”
“No, I remember the tragic details and the lives lost—which is all the more reason I think you’d want to honor those men by being a voice to the people, reminding them of the price paid for their freedoms.”
“I remember the lads by being on the pitch. I play for them.”
Stephen understood the pressure Nathaniel faced. He was a king with royal duties and responsibilities, expectations. The press had all but given up on inquiring when the king would coronate his brother into the office of Prince of Brighton.
The King’s Office always answered the same.“His rugby is his focus for now. We’re giving him room to pursue his interests.”
The Prince of Brighton served as a patron, humanitarian, and defender of the weak. The peerage had been created by King Leopold IV for his brother in 1850, citing him as a chairman and spokesman for the poor and the aging vets.
The peerage was inherited by the oldest sibling of the ruling royal. The last Prince of Brighton had been their great-great-uncle Prince Michael, also a rugby player and an RAC colonel, who died on D-Day.
“I’d think you’d want to honor Uncle Michael, the men who died, and their families by being the War Memorial patron. Especially for those from other countries who were a part of the Joint International Coalition, men who were not Brightonian but gave their lives. Those men were your mates and your—”
Stephen shoved away from the counter, stumbling over his stool, his booted foot caught. “I know who those men were and how they died. I don’t need a lecture, Nathaniel.” The tea and puffs soured in his belly.
He couldn’t do it. Don his uniform and stand before the nation, the world, with his holier-than-thou royal title and pretend to be someone he was not. Someone worthy.
Besides, he’d created his own memorial at the Parrsons House and paid his respects every Remembrance Day. Or whenever he traveled to the country.
“Listen, I’m sure I don’t understand, but . . .” Nathaniel picked up the envelope.
“No, you don’t understand. Not really. So give me a break. General Horsch has been doing a grand job of patroning Remembrance Day and the War Memorial. He’s a great man, a stalwart warrior, and was the commander of the Joint International Coalition.”
“You’re giving in to your fears, mate.”
“Giving in?”Ha!“You think this is giving in? I’ve earned the right to choose, Nathaniel.” Stephen slapped his hand to his chest, bridling his fears. “But don’t ever say I’ve given in. I get upeveryday and face life, remembering what happened that day in Torkham.”
His voice dropped, and the silence reverberated against the tile and plaster.
“I’m sorry,” Nathaniel said after a moment. “But I am here for another reason. We can talk about the coronation later.” Nathaniel passed Stephen the envelope. “I need you to explain this.”
Stephen flipped the envelope over. “It’s a white, legal-sized envelope. Used to mail papers or perhaps store files.”
