With a growl, she kicked off her shoes, gathered the front of the skirt and ran, the bag swinging from her hand, her shoes from her fingertips. Up a slight incline toward the portico which rose on the horizon. But even from the distance, she could see Gus was not there. Nor was the rest of the family.
“Gus?” She stepped on the cracked portico surface where a wide red runner had been stretched. “Your Majesty?” Had this all been a joke?
She dropped her shoes on the concrete. Scanned the grounds and searched toward the small forest and down the other side. Acres and acres, much beyond her line of sight.
“Gus!” He could be anywhere. Inside Hadsby, gone for a walk. Down to the Belly of the Beast to see Ernst. “Your Majesty? Prince John?”
She didn’t want to believe it, but the queen had turned the tables. Instead of getting Gus, she was getting Daffy. But it didn’t make sense. Was the conversation in her flat a farce?
One last visible sweep through dewy eyes, and Daffy dropped down to the porch, shoes by her feet, the bag containing a green Frisbee tossed to the red runner.
* * *
Gus
“Where you’ve been?” Mum’s assistant met him outside his apartment. “They’re waiting for you.”
“On an errand.”
“Better have been a good one. Go. They’ve already taken the carts to the portico. Her Majesty is not pleased.”
Nothing like being reprimanded by your mother’s secretary. He thudded down the secret stairs and out the side door, pushing through the hedge and around Hadsby’s high, ancient stone walls.
Picking up his pace, he left Hadsby’s shadows and merged into the white gold light of a Dalholm sunset. His shoes slipped on the dewy grass. Nevertheless, he quickened his pace.
The scene was beautiful and Gus conceded Mum’s need for a family portrait might be justified. But blast, why didn’t Daffy answer her phone? He must’ve called her five times on his way home. For the life of him, he couldn’t recall the event she was working.
Coming around the northeast side of the castle, he spied the family on the portico, along with the waiting photographer.
Gus picked up his pace. “Sorry I’m late.” When he got to the concrete-and-marble structure with its Greek columns, the family merely stared at him. “What? I’ve apologized for being late. Let’s do this.”
“We’re waiting for one more.” Mum motioned to someone behind the column.
Daffy came around, her bare feet sticking out from the hem of the blue gown. Mum’s blue gown. Sunlight laced through the swirls of her auburn hair.
“I heard you needed a date for a very important ball. Also, I brought you this.” With a quick flip of her wrist, she flung a lime-green Frisbee straight for him. And he did not duck. The blame thing thunked him on the side of his head.
“Gus!” She ran toward him. “Are you all right? You were supposed to—”
He captured her in his arms and found her lips, savoring her touch, her presence, her surprise. Everything about her unlocked the rest of his freedom.
Behind him the family serenaded them with catcalls, whistles, and applause. Still he refused to let her go. He kissed her again then, with a laugh that welled up from deep within him, he released her, only to twirl her around.
“Surprise,” Daffy said.
“I thought you weren’t coming.”
“I made her keep the secret, especially since she’s so good at it. Next time, son, do not sit in my rare, valuable chair.”
How good it felt to laugh. “Lesson learned.”
Gus bent for the Frisbee and, with Daffy on his arm, turned to his family. “I know there’s more to the story, but let’s do this. Family photo. We’ve a wedding ball to attend.”
Mum motioned for them to face the photographer, who hurried from behind a tree and across the grand lawn. Holland shivered with each gust of the wind, but Daffy, so beautifully flushed and blushed, cradled next to Gus, warm and smiling.
She stunned his heart.
The photographer was useless getting them to pose normally, so with each couple standing askew, laughing, the photographer captured the present and future House of Blue.
