“What do you expect? I do have standards.”
Susanna perched on the arm of his chair. “I Googled her. She’s gorgeous. Mum, have you ever met her?”
“No, but I’m looking forward to it.” Mum gave Stephen the stink eye. The one she gave him when he was a boy and up to his short trousers in trouble.
“So, an heiress, a former Miss Georgia.” Susanna leaned down to Stephen. “I’ve got to give you props for picking a Georgia girl.”
Nathaniel entered on the tail end of the comment and chimed in. “Like brother, like brother. The Stratton men have good taste in women.” He kissed Susanna and popped Stephen on the knee. “Be nice to Corina, please.”
“I resent all of you. Treating me like a delinquent, an errant child.”
“Then don’t act like one, Stephen,” Mum said. “You did marry this girl, then sent her away without a word to us. I can’t quite understand it.”
Stephen crossed gazes with his brother. Mum did not have the full intel. “Sorry, Mum, I just did what I thought best.”
Henry folded up the paper he was reading and passed it to Stephen. “Says you’re in the walking boot for another two weeks. Is that true?”
Stephen bent forward, tapping the contraption that was helping him heal. “More like six weeks.”
“That long, son?”
“Sadly.”
“They’re attributing the Eagles’ loss to Italy on Sunday to your absence. We need our best winger come the Premiership.”
“Grady Hamstead’s a fine winger, Henry.” It pained Stephen to admit it, but true was true. “He’s faster than me in the clutch. They lost because they didn’t manage the scrum.”
Nathaniel’s butler, Malcolm, entered. “Miss Corina Del Rey has arrived.”
“She’s here.” Susanna jumped up, scurrying around the furniture to stand with Nathaniel by the living room door.
Henry and Mum stood, facing the doorway. Stephen positioned himself halfway between Mum and Henry, Nathaniel and Susanna.
For a moment, he resented her saying yes. Why couldn’t she leave well enough alone? What was she hoping to accomplish by coming here?
He adjusted his shirt collar, squaring his scarlet-and-grey striped pullover on his shoulders. Sunday night dinners were country casual since Susanna took over the hosting. Jeans, a top, something she referred to as “deck shoes,” were the standards.
Nathaniel and Stephen took to it right away. As did Henry. He’d been prime minister for years, but never a royal. Never caught up in staunch traditions.
Mum, however, found the change a challenge. Stephen glanced at her, giving her a smile. She was dressed in royal “casual.” A skirt and blouse. Stephen was certain Mum didn’t even own a pair of jeans.
He was proud of her, though, submitting to Susanna’s changes, allowing her to be the king’s wife, creating her own culture in the palace.
“She’s given up so much,” Mum told Stephen one evening. “Her country, her customs, her citizenship. I can give up Sunday night traditions. Learn to be casual.”
And that was why Brighton loved their Queen Campbell.
Suddenly Corina was at the door, dressed in an elegant gold gown, clinging to her in precisely the right manner, and Stephen’s thoughts on Mum fell off.
She’d pinned her hair in some sort of updo with soft curls lying on her neck, and Stephen swallowed as memories of the nights he lay with her, holding her, the ends of her hair brushing against him, filled every crevice of his being.
Their eyes met and she smiled. “I’m afraid I’m overdressed.” She leaned toward Susanna. “I always thought Sunday night dinners were formal.”
She moved into the room with classic confidence, curtsying to Nathaniel, then Mum, and all the scattered reasons why Stephen loved her came flying together.
“Corina,” Susanna came round to her. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t even think to tell you about the current dress code.” The king’s princess made a face. “I went Georgia-casual for family dinner night.”
“It’s quite all right.” Corina smoothed her hand over her skirt. “My misunderstanding gave me an excuse to buy a new dress.”
