Mum seemed over the initial shock of her exposure. At dinner the other night, she’d had an air about her that Gus had never seen—deeply calm and at peace. Nevertheless, the topic of his unknown sister had been put aside for the ball week. Yes, decisions had to be made. But in due time.
For now, it was fun to enjoy a castle full of guests with their lively conversations, laughter, and music.
Friday afternoon at two, the official weekend began. Dressed in a suit and tie, hair styled and beard trimmed, HRH Prince Gus of Lauchtenland, House of Blue, stationed himself in the marble-and-gold Grand Foyer.
One by one, he greeted guests, who were then ushered by a footman into the Grand Drawing Room where they were greeted by the queen and king consort, followed by the bride’s parents, Lord and Lady Cunningham, and the beaming bride and groom.
Those already on the premises came down the Grand Staircase to blend in with those arriving by the front doors.
Greeting was fun, really, seeing old friends, laughing at a quickly shared memory. But in the back of his mind, he knew the moment would come when Coral would walk through the doors with her new husband.
This was when he ached for Daffy the most. She reminded him this morning of the opportunity to face his past, discover the truth, and go forward with a clean slate.
“Whatever she says, love, we’ll face together.”
“Daffy, please, come to the ball. I need you with me.”
“No, you don’t. I am sure this is where I need to be. Please don’t ask me again. And remember, If I climbed the treacherous path to the Hand of God on a blustery, stormy day, you can listen to Coral.”
A ruckus at the doors nabbed him from his thoughts. Gus slapped hands with his mates Turner, Lute, and Charles Larrabee, who promptly began plans for a rugby match.
The line moved quickly until Gus spotted his friend and fellow spare heir, Prince Stephen of Brighton Kingdom, who arrived with his beautiful wife, American heiress Corina.
Stephen came at Gus with a low rugby tackle, and Gus juked to the left, spinning, pretending to run across the marble foyer with a ball tucked in his arms.
“Still don’t have any moves, I see.” Stephen laughed as their hands clapped together for a brotherly embrace.
“And you’re still as arrogant. Corina, how do you put up with him?”
“Someone has to do it.” Her brilliant smile reflected her genuine heart, and her polished, regal voice still carried a Georgia accent.
“By the way, chum, Nathaniel wants a bocce ball rematch. Said you’re going down.” The Brighton Kingdom prince rolled his eyes. “I said, ‘Whatever.’ He and Susanna arrive tomorrow morning and I think he’ll challenge you straightaway.”
“Bring it on. How many times does he have to lose to crown me champion?” The king of Brighton Kingdom possessed no skill in the ball and jack game. “By the way, Charles Larrabee wants a rugby match. He’ll be angling for you to be on his team.”
Stephen used to play the sport professionally. One of the best players to ever come out of Brighton Kingdom.
Through the centuries, the Blues and Strattons, leaders of North Sea Island countries, were friends and allies. In John’s and Gus’s younger years, the families summered together in the south of France. Skied every other winter in Jackson Hole.
“How are you?” Stephen leaned in close, his words for Gus alone. “I saw you spent time in Florida. You should’ve rung. I’d have introduced you to Corina’s family.”
“I was hiding. But I’m good. More than good. We’ll talk later.”
Stephen popped him on the shoulder. “Anytime.”
“Stephen, darling.” Corina appeared at his side. “Come meet a friend of mine from America.”
The brotherly look of spare heirs passed between them as Stephen headed away.
Next Gus welcomed Holland’s sister and her husband. Then Edward Tucker arrived. John was a huge fan, and the African American singer-songwriter had graciously agreed to a concert later tonight.
More guests trailed over the foyer’s marble floor. Family. Friends from uni. One by one, Gus relaxed, laughed a bit easier, enjoyed the vibrant atmosphere. He’d just reminisced with his cousin Winifred about being caught in a Dalholm deluge when he turned to see the golden mane and vibrant eyes of Coral Winthrop.
His breathing quickened with his pounding heart. Next to her, a giant of a man blocked the light of the open door. Gus glanced away. His foot twitched and a hot vise squeezed his torso. The voices in the foyer seemed to soften, and the light of the chandelier faded.
The moment of truth had arrived.Steady, mate.They’re just another couple. She’s a friend of Holland’s. Don’t look eager. Or anxious. Don’t avoid her either. Just, relax. Be cool.
Words. He needed words. What should he say?“Hello, Coral? Run out on anyone lately?”
