A March Bride (A Year of Weddings 1 #4)(30)
BRIGHTON WEDDING NOT GOOD ENOUGH FOR OUR KING? PEOPLE OUTRAGED AT AMERICAN WEDDING
In the Parliament Debate Box, a windowless anterior room outside the Senate and Commons joint chambers, King Nathaniel faced off with Prime Minister Brock Bishop, Susanna standing beside him. “You can’t be serious.”
“Most serious.” Brock crossed his arms with a smug glance at his vice minister. “You knew what you were doing, Your Majesty. Why are you surprised Parliament is outraged? Not to mention, you robbed your people of seeing their first reigning king marry in three hundred years.”
“So you’re demanding my throne?” After the paparazzi surprise on St. Simons Island—Nathaniel had yet to discover who leaked the wedding—the Brightonian media exploded with stories, opinions, documentaries, online polls about the American ceremony.
Days and days of unrelenting coverage.
“Mr. Bishop.” Susanna spoke with reverence and honor. “I was very reluctant to give up my American citizenship, but I’ve come to realize it’s not what defines me. Nor does a Brighton citizenship. Sure, it’s hard to give up something that’s been a part of me before I was born, but I am taking the Brighton Oath of Allegiance tomorrow morning and renouncing my American ties. So what’s the harm here?”
“Harm? That our king went behind our back, defied the law, and married a foreigner without her having taken the oath of citizenship. Never mind the renunciation of your civil ties to America.” Brock motioned for his aide to hand him a document. “Many already see this as a compromise with another nation. The influence has started. The Liberal-Labor Party in the House of Senators is demanding you step down from the throne.”
“Pardon? Demanding?” Nathaniel snatched the document, his blood boiling as he read the word TREASON scrawled across the top of the page. “You are out of your mind, Brock.” He tossed the paper to the floor. “You cannot charge me with treason for defying a writ. Especially when the Marriage Act states I’m allowed to marry whomever I wish.”
“As long as His Majesty’s government approves.”
“Which it did. Last May.”
“Well, your new government placed conditions which you blatantly ignored. Naturally, you’ll remain a member of the royal family after you abdicate, but we are asking you to vacate your throne immediately.”
“Brock, you blasted idiot! How does this accomplish your goals to be rid of a monarchy? Stephen will just take my place.” Nathaniel had had enough of the politicking, the media, the naysayers, and his government using Susanna to get to him. “My marriage to Susanna on Friday was our business. Between us. When we wed here, in Brighton, we will be within the law.”
“I fear it’s too little, too late.” Brock retrieved the petition for abdication. “We are moving forward with this action. As for your brother, we have plans there as well.”
“So you’re accomplishing your mission. To rid Brighton of a royal throne.”
“I’ve never denied my sentiments toward the monarchy.” He shifted his shoulders, adjusting the set of his jacket on his shoulders. “It’s archaic. From another century. It’s time has come to an end.”
Nathaniel met the prime minister’s gaze with his own rock-hard resolve. “Then shall we adjourn to Parliament?”
The morning session was just beginning. By next week, final government business was to be concluded before Parliament’s spring recess. Just in time for the wedding.
Brock hesitated with a slight hint of surprise. As if he weren’t expecting Nathaniel to take action. “Certainly, Your Majesty.”
“You bring the petition and I’ll address the assembly.” Nathaniel reached around for Susanna. “Care to join us?”
Brock cast a shadow over them through the dark aura of his heart, then left the chamber.
Susanna shuddered. “Oh Nathaniel, how did he ever get to be prime minister?”
“He’s head of the Labor Party. They formed a coalition with the Liberal Party for the elections. They secured the most seats in the House of Senators and thus Brock became prime minister.”
“Does he hate you?”
“In his way, yes. But you know, Susanna, I’ve come to learn as king that whenever I meet someone I don’t like or understand, I put a big X on them and remind myself, ‘There’s treasure buried here.’ ”
“Nathaniel, that’s brilliant.”
“So while Brock puzzles me and feels like my enemy, I remind myself that somewhere in all the supposed venom, there’s treasure.”
Lord, help me find the treasure . . .
Nathaniel led the way out of the room, reaching back for Susanna’s hand, and took the stairs toward the grand central chamber, bypassing his robing room because he wanted to keep the Houses off-kilter for this debate.
At the mezzanine level, he entered through the King’s Door and sat on his red velvet and teak throne overseeing the bright, round room with its atrium ceiling and gleaming paneled walls.
He motioned for Susanna to sit in the seat on his left. The Parliament thrones. Handcrafted from Brighton oak three hundred years ago and covered with thick red velvet.
“Here?” She pointed to the Queen’s Seat.
He chuckled at Susanna’s very overwhelmed expression. “Yes, and don’t worry, love. All is well.”