“Michael, don’t you think she could’ve learned our ways?Princess Gemma has adapted into royal life.As has Imani.I forget sometimes they’re American.What of the Brighton Princesses, Susanna, Corina, and Avery?Even the Grand Duchess of Hessenberg, Princess Regina, is an American.They have southern American roots, yet have taken to their duty and positions quite well.Even splendidly.”
“They all fell in love,” he said.“And the truth about their mother was never a secret turned national headline.”
“She resented it, resented me, I think.I could see it on her when she came to say goodbye.How perhaps I’d gotten between her and of her calling.”The queen made her way to the green pitch, her protection team close behind.“I loved football as a girl.I was quite good.”
“You should come play sometime.We’ll have a charity match.As your health allows.”
“I’m improving every day.Since the night of the ball, the restoration of the Fickle family, the awakening of the Eye of God, the pain lessens, and my strength is returning.”She nodded at Michael, smiling.“May I be candid?I was quite certain Lady Royal fell in love with you.”
“She said she loved me.And I love her.But when the news hit, she claimed it was all a fantasy, ma’am.Even suggested we staged the Eye of God with tech chaps from New Hamlet.”
“Really?I should send her an article on how impossible that light is for man to make.But I won’t.I know Trent losing O’Shay knocked her sideways.I wish he’d have telephoned, let me know it was coming.”
“He tried to speak with Scottie, but she kept missing or putting off his calls until after the ball.”
“I suppose things happen as they do for a reason.”Spying a soccer ball on the sidelines, the queen quick-stepped over and gave it a kick.“Do keep me posted on your progress.Do you need investors?The king consort and I like to give from our private coffers to worthy ventures.”
“Pratt Printing has been generous, ma’am.But if you care to give, we won’t say no.”
“I’ll speak with my husband.And let’s work on that charity match.”
Outside the hub, as a fall breeze nipped at golden and burnished red leaves, the queen took a moment to take it all in.For a moment, she wasn’t his sovereign or one of the most esteemed royals in the world—she was the mother of the woman he loved.
“Did you know her father is getting married this weekend?”Queen Catherine started for the tinted-window Range Rover where a protection officer waited by an open door.“I sent her a text of encouragement, but she only responded with a smiley face.”
“She does the same with me.”
Queen Catherine paused by the motor with a final glance at Michael.“One last thing.You know thatveryspecial and surprising leather book you discovered in the chapel cellar?I was wondering if you might do me a favor?”
Chapter Twenty-six
Scottie
For the most part, her days were nothing like before.Except for the month of handing over O’Shay to Boston Brothers, going through the days like a robot, she slept in and then made a late breakfast-slash-early lunch, eating it on her back deck, watching fall swallow up summer.
She avoided coffee with friends, thus the cloaked inquiries about Lady Royal and life in a castle.She canceled her pickleball membership, and when she saddled Dart for a ride, she aimed him west, wishing she could ride all the way to California.
She gave herself to Dad and Remi’s wedding, finding purpose in helping where needed, even designing bespoke bridesmaids’ dresses that O’Shay’s head seamstress created in three days.
On this crisp fall evening with edges of gold on the fading horizon, Scottie watched the newlyweds from the wedding party’s table.Handsome in a cream-colored fine wool suit, and Remi in a pink-champagne fitted gown, Dad danced with his bride to Bob Seger’s “Shame On the Moon.”
He was completely enveloped by her, lost in her eyes, sinking deeper with each swaying step.
Suddenly, within the span of a single note, Scottie was in the Belly of the Beast, dancing the Ildys, falling into Michael’s gaze like Dad fell into Remi’s.
“Hey you, why the distant look?”Cap Henderson dropped his athletic, graceful form into the vacated chair next to her.“Tell me you’re not thrilled for your dad.”
“Of course I am.”
“Hey, Scotto.”A tipsy Uncle Festus pounded her on the shoulders.“I never thought I’d see this day.Trent O’Shay in love and married.”
Cap steadied Festus, helping him move on.“Remi’s good for your dad,” he said, reaching for the dish of peanuts and popping a few in his mouth, his posture every inch that of an Army Ranger.“Isn’t Lauchtenland in your future?”
“Remi is amazing and Dad deserves this,” she said.“And no, Lauchtenland is not in my future.”
This notion of “never Lauchtenland” had crept into her mental processes.The entire wedding week, friends and family had speculated about her royal connections, wondering when she’d return to her “mother’s country.”
“Don’t you have a royal title?”they asked.
