Seven
AURELIA
The children arein bed by eight, a bit past their normal bedtime, but the tour has my carefully planned schedule a little out of whack. I get a quick shower to calm my nerves; my heart has been threatening to beat out of my chest all afternoon, not at all quieted by my first step inside a church in years.
It had taken every ounce of the resilience I’ve cultivated over the years to keep my composure for the sake of the children. Even so, stepping into the enormous, austere, beautiful cathedral today had stolen my breath, and not in the fun way. The rituals and the hymns and the prayers may have been different from my Southern Baptist upbringing, but the sentiment was the same, and the god was the same, and I’m certain the hearts of many of the people inside were mostly the same.
At a quarter to nine, I give up on the spicy book Margaret had thrust at me last Sunday; even the surly gazillionaire finally opening up to his new sunny assistant isn’t enough to quiet my racing thoughts. I dig through my suitcase, finding a pair of dark skinny jeans and an off-the-shoulder Aran sweater my aunt had insisted on buying for me when we went to Ireland a few years ago. Satisfied my outfit choice is cute yet not overeager, I head to the bar early. Maybe if I can get one drink in me before meeting the prince, I can approach this whole thing a smidge more clear headed.
The bartender sets my old fashioned in front of me with a wink. Three cherries float on a toothpick in my drink. Margaret would be pushing me to talk to him; three cherries is a clear flirtation tactic, but my mind is firmly elsewhere.
As I sip the bourbon cocktail, I go over my arguing points again, reminding myself of the pros and cons of whatever arrangement Prince Friedrich and I are about to strike up.
“Is this seat taken?” a rumble of a voice asks next to me.
“Oh, I’m actually just—” I stop short as I peer into the face of the prince’s security officer. I realize I haven’t actually heard him speak other than this morning when he was screaming at me. He is still in his all-black clothes, but his shoulders are more relaxed, and his brows aren’t creased in their usual scowl. His stereotypical military high-and-tight is a bit longer ontop than I’m sure regulations allow, but I don’t imagine the prince being especially strict about such things. Not when he himself is sporting hair bordering on unruly.
The guard, who I can safely assume is the Brenton I’m to be meeting, takes the barstool next to me without waiting for my response. “Frank saw you on CCTV, and I decided to come a bit early.” He orders tonic water and a lime.
“You were watching me?”
“We’re watching everything, Miss. But most especially you, yes.”
I take a slow sip, my anxiety rising again. “Why me most especially?”
“A foreign woman who wants to get close to His Highness? Why wouldn’t we?”
I shrug. “Fair.”
“We’ll sit down here for a minute and finish our drinks,” Brenton explains. “Chat a little. Make it appear casual, like we’re meeting here and you’re going upstairs with me.”
“You don’t think someone will notice?”
“No, someone certainlywillnotice, that’s why we have to make this look natural. As if I’m here to pick you up for myself.”
I nod my understanding. “So, we should find something to talk about then.”
“Perhaps you should flirt a little.”
I cough. “Perhapsyoushould flirta little.”
He scowls into his glass, the ice tinkling along the sides as he gives it a little swirl.
“You don’t do this for him often, do you?” I press.
“Never, actually.” He sucks down the last of his alcohol-free beverage and motions for another.
“I figured, or else you would have a better script lined up.”
Captain Brenton Mercer doesn’t strike me as a man who smiles often, much less laughs, but I catch one corner of his mouth twitch in what might be a smirk on any other person. “No, Miss. We’re going completely off book here.” His second drink arrives, and he takes a sip. “Where are you from, Miss Sumner?”
“The United States.”
He scoffs. “Yes, I gathered that by the accent. I meant where in the US?”
“Louisiana.”
“Is that all I get?”
