Gus walked along the water’s edge, wishing everything she said about him and love were true. But deep down he doubted. He feared. Let his brother be the one who found true love and bore the House of Blue heirs.
Gus would watch from the sidelines as the bachelor uncle. The man who struggled to trust his heart again.
Chapter Five
Gus
Capital City, Port Fressa, Lauchtenland
He’d been summoned by the queen. She’d left him alone when he first returned five days ago on the heels of theMorning Show’s breaking story.
After leaving Daffy on the beach, he’d warned Helene of the storm to come and resigned. Nevertheless, by early afternoon, A1A was backed up with traffic to the Melbourne Causeway.
Floridana Beach was overrun with royal seekers, most of them women, the local media, and a few curious pelicans.
At his gated rental, he stayed clear of windows and prepared for a midnight escape to Orlando, checking in at the airport hotel until his flight home late Wednesday.
Meanwhile, Helene updated him every few hours.
We’re out of everything.
We’ve done a month’s business in a night.
She sent a picture of an overflowing, shoulder-to-shoulder crowd.
New barback is a joke. Carmen is only coming in to flirt with the ladies but at least he’s here.
She sent a final message as he boarded his flight to Port Fressa. A selfie of her beleaguered expression, sticking out her tongue.
You just had to be a real prince and now, I’m exhausted. Richer. But exhausted. I’ll miss you, my friend.
He arrived at Perrigwynn Palace Thursday morning and slept until Friday. Unpacked and reacquainted himself with his staff on Saturday then said a quick hello to Mum and Dad.
Sunday he braved a fresh wave of Lauchtenland’s winter and in the evening, as the snow piled high in the city streets, Gus dined with John and Holland.
To his delight, he found he was at rest in the palace and returning to his place as a member of an ancient, royal family. A year and a half ago, he’d felt foreign, rooted in a slough of melancholy. What was his way forward?
He’d shut down after Coral. When he took up with Lady Robbi, he never truly opened up. In hindsight, a wise choice, since the lady was still in love with her ex.
After dinner and a game of billiards with John, he retired early, slept through the night, and rose with just enough time to shower, eat, and make his way through the royal corridors to the queen’s office.
After his meeting with Mum, he was scheduled to meet his new protection officer, organize his diary with his private secretary, Stern, before meeting John tonight, along with school chums Charles, Turner, and Lute, at Pub Clemency. He was looking forward to seeing them again.
The opulence of the palace he called home was an ornate and extravagant contrast to the dull board floor, exposed beams, and beat-up bar of theCaptain’s Hideaway.
Dressed in suffocating layers—slacks, blue button-down under a darker blue jumper, regular shoes (not flip-flops,) and socks—Gus looked like his former self. Almost. He’d trimmed his beard close but left his hair long, brushed to a sheen, the waves combed back, yet falling loose about his face.
Down the Queen’s Corridor, he passed under the portraits of his ancestors. Past monarchs whose painted eyes seemed to follow him. What would they say if they were alive today?
“Buck up, lad. Stiff upper lip.”
“Tally ho,into the breach.”
Or worse, recite the ancient, unwritten Blue motto.
“Take heart. Marriage is a must for every royal Blue. Love is not.”
The tradition began when Great-great-great-great-grandfather Louis, the crown prince, would not decide on a wife. And so his father, the king, decided for him.
