After his fair share of fish and chips, Wilford downed his second pint and pushed away from the table. “Home. Wife. Good day, sir.”
John laughed. “Give your wife my regards.”
“She’ll be thrilled.”
John shook the groom’s hand. He was the man who’d brought a piece of his heart back to life through a chestnut gelding. “Next week?”
“Your Royal Highness, I know you’re a busy man. You don’t have to come up every weekend—”
“But I want to, Wilford. I need to. This place puts me at ease. Hadsby, the mountains, the old hamlet, the Belly of the Beast.”
“See you then.” Wilford backed away and offered a curt bow. He waved to Ernst on his way out. “Good one.”
John returned to his chair, picked at the remaining filet, then shoved the plate aside. Staring into the fire, he reclined against the murmur of voices, the spikes of laughter, the hammer of a pint hitting the table.
“Prince. Tell. What’s up?” Not only was Ernst the proprietor, but he was a longtime friend of the House of Blue, especially of John and Gus.
Kicking out the chair across from John, the big man with the braided beard sat, the scuffed and scarred wooden legs creaking under his aproned girth.
“What do you mean, what’s up? All is well. Briley is his old self if not better.” John raised his pint with a glance toward the faint light of Wells Line beaming against the paned glass windows. “I needed a miracle, Ernst.”
“Yes, amen.” Ernst slapped his large palm on the table then pointed at John. “You, girl.” He furrowed his forehead until his thick eyebrows became one. “Insider trading? Video?”
“Ah, I see you’re up-to-date. Tell me, friend, do you think I’m cursed?” The question came out of nowhere, but John guessed he’d been pondering the possibility for a while.
“Cursed? Nonsense.”
“Then what? My wife died four months into our marriage. Now I learn she had dealings with Reingard. Then I met a lovely American woman that maybe, I’m not sure, maybe I could’ve loved, only to discover her secret career as a reality show stripper. While I can see my way clear to overlook her past, my family, my country may not be as generous. I’d never subject her, as my wife and best friend, to fifty years of ‘The queen, a former Las Vegas stripper,’ which you know will become a part of her story. Forget that she was a completely legitimate actress ninety-five percent of her career. Commercials, plays, even movies. Putting together what pieces I know, the reality show was just another acting job.”
“You? Your heart?” Ernst tapped his own chest. “Want?”
“A do-over. A rewind. Go back to the day Holland went for a ride. No, the day I met her. I’d love to ask more questions.” He sobered and stared into his empty pint. “I’d love to hold my child.”
“Ah, Prince.” Ernst slapped his hand over his heart. “Peace.”
“We were just about to go public with the news.”
“Better days ahead.”
“If not, I don’t want to see worse.”
“But you?” Ernst said again. “What want?”
John sat back with a deep inhale. What did he want? His brain felt muddled at times, like he was lost in a fog with no end.
“I want to know if she really took a bribe from Luca Reingard. Did she participate in some scheme to cheat Eloise Ltd. out of their land deal? Did she know Reingard was expanding and buy stocks? Was she involved with insider trading? But why? Ernst, that’s not the woman I married. All this news makes me feel like I lost my wife all over again. Did I know her at all?”
“And the American?”
“Gemma Stone?” Saying her name brought a ping of joy. “Crazy to say, Ernst, but she’s my best friend. I’ve not talked to her in a month, but I think of her every day. I want to talk to her. But where do I take it? She lives in America. I live here. She’s given no indication she’d embrace a royal life. She turned down my marriage proposal. She left without a word. Though now I know why.”
“What hold up?”
John made a face. “Everything I just said.”
“Excuses.”
“Or valid reasons,” John said. “Even wisdom.”
