“We should go,” Michael said, opening his car door.How could he make them understand?His calling was more than the Crown way.It was the Crownandthe Cross.“Piers will be on his second pint and plate of chips by the time we arrive.”
Evan tapped Michael’s shoulder.“Think about it.”
“I do, little brother.More than you know.”
Michael climbed into his late-model sports car, which had been a luxury spend after a surprise inheritance from a distant cousin.He’d drive this motor to his grave.
Turning out of the car park, he considered his phone, hoping for a call from the MP’s office.He’d rung up yesterday morning, requesting a meeting.The little troublemaker best not let Scottie down.Michael felt a personal responsibility to make her wish come true.
Also, he missed her.Something known only to himself.The afternoon on the pitch proved a lovely distraction.Yet now that he was alone for half a second, his feelings surfaced.He longed to see her face, peer into her deep blue eyes, then let his gaze slowly drift to her soft, supple lips.Not that he’d tasted them or ever would.But a man could dream.
He flashed on a memory of Purnell.“Sorry, love.”Of course he knew she was gone to a place with no sorrow, and she’d want him to get on with life.Yet pieces of him hung onto her memory.
At Pub Clemency, he lucked into a parking spot near the door.He’d just cut the motor when his phone beckoned with a Private Number.When he answered, a stiff voice said, “Hold for MP Fickle.”
Michael snapped to attention.Finally.
“Cross, Hamish Fickle here.You called seeking an audience with me.”
“Actually, Lady Royal Blue requested to speak with you.She’s been away but will return Sunday morning.”
“My office on Wednesday, ten a.m.My aide will send details.”
“Thank you, sir.”Calling himsirfelt unjust, but the man was a member of parliament, duly elected by the people of his district.
“What’s this about, Cross?”Hamish filled his voice with force.“I’ll not be mocked.”
“To be honest, sir, I don’t know.However, I doubt Lady Royal has any intention of mocking you.”
MP Fickle rang off and Michael stepped out of his car, wondering what Lady Royal actually intended.There’d been a quick and thorough investigation of the Midlands Faire disruption, and several protesters were arrested.MP Fickle pulled his political strings, and the lot of them were released with a slap on the wrist two days later.
As for Michael, the HMSD performed their own investigation.Thanks to the testimony of Lennox and Schueler, along with the eyewitnesses at Eloise’s shop, Michael was cleared.Again.
The press spun the story as if Lady Royal was accidentally caught up in a political march.But everyone present that day knew she had been targeted.
From now on out, the Chamber Office would not announce any of her appearances.
Her Majesty Queen Catherine offered her support, assuring Gunner Ferguson that Michael was still the man for the job.
Outside Pub Clemency’s door, he texted Scottie.
Michael: Meeting with MP Fickle Wednesday morning, 10:00.
Scottie: Thank you!Did he say anything?Ask why?
Michael: He wondered if you were going to mock him.
Scottie: Mock him?I want to talk.So, am I being foolish?Risky?
Michael: Probably but sometimes things don’t change if things don’t change.
Scottie: Well said, Cross.What are you doing while I’m away?
Missing you.
Michael: Paperwork.Playing a bit of football.
Scottie: I felt your smile when I read you were playing soccer.Did you demonstrate ye ole scissor kick?
