Affairs of State(27)
“She has never even met her father and politics plays no role in our relationship.”
Derek had poured himself a stiff whiskey and swigged it. It was doubtless his third or fourth of the day despite the early hour. “Never even met her own father? Oh, yes. She’s some kind of unwanted bastard who was given up for adoption. Perfect royal bride material.”
Simon wanted to remind his uncle of the many “royal bastards” who had contributed to the country over the centuries, but he restrained himself. “Ariella and I are both adults, and quite capable of managing our affairs with dignity. I don’t need any warnings or lessons or instructions in how to behave.” Derek’s miserable wife, Mary, was a pale shadow of the pretty, bright girl she’d once been. If there was any dire warning on how not to operate a relationship, Derek was it.
“Listen, Simon. If you get into some embarrassing international scrape it will be bad for all of us. Monarchies are in a battle for survival in the twenty-first century. An affair with this girl is tantamount to abandoning your duties. Next thing we know you’ll be moving abroad.”
Simon’s hackles rose. “I’ll never leave England. I know my duty to my country as well as to my own conscience.”
His uncle’s beady eyes narrowed. “The way you’re acting you may well be asked to leave.”
“You’d have to boot me out of the family first.”
The older man sipped his whiskey and studied a painting of dead pheasants, bound by the neck into a lifeless bouquet. “Nothing is impossible.”
* * *
The early morning air in England smelled fabulously exciting to Ariella. Even the fume-choked atmosphere around the taxi rank at Heathrow Airport. She had a roster of back to back appointments stretching over the next four days. Most of them had to do with the Duke of Buckingham’s extravagant wedding. She had scheduled meetings with florists, caterers, makers of the finest crystal and porcelain for the handcrafted tableware, the list was almost endless.
But one appointment loomed in her mind above all the others. At three-forty-five on Wednesday—two days away—Ariella would finally meet the woman who gave birth to her twenty-eight years ago. Her heart pounded whenever she thought about it. How odd that this stranger had carried her in her belly for nine long months.
And of course Simon was here. She’d told him of her visit but warned him that she was very busy. She was here to work and just because she’d kissed a prince did not mean she could abandon her career and throw caution to the wind. Her friends at home had warned her that the British press were far more aggressive—and often crueler—than the press at home, so she should watch her step. Still, hopefully they could manage a meeting. Her skin tingled every time she thought about him. What would her mother think?
The question made her laugh aloud. The mom who raised her, the sensible Montana housewife, would probably be full of dire warnings, issued in the most kind and heartfelt way. She’d have much preferred to see Ariella with the owner of a solid car dealership in Billings, or perhaps a kindly bank manager in Bozeman.
But now she had another mother to think about. What would Eleanor think about her relationship with Simon? She was obviously concerned about her own privacy and shrank from the spotlight, so she wasn’t likely to be thrilled.
Ariella’s phone vibrated and she checked the number. Think of the devil. “Hi, Simon.” She couldn’t help smiling as she said his name.
“You must be on British soil.” His deep voice sent a flood of warmth to her belly.
“I am. Traveling over it in a taxi, to be precise.”
“Where are you staying?”
“The Drake. It’s a small hotel near Mayfair.”
“Perfect. Right near St. James’s Palace, my haunt when I’m in town. I’ll pick you up at seven.”
Temptation clawed at her. But her sense of duty won out. “I wish I could, but I’m meeting a potential client to pitch the most magnificent wedding in history. It will probably go quite late.”
“I suppose asking you to come over after dinner isn’t appropriate.”
She smiled. “No, I suppose not.”
“Lunch tomorrow at Buckingham Palace. Come meet the queen. She’s never in town for long so it’s a great opportunity for you two to get to know each other.”
Ariella clutched the phone in a panic. “Oh, gosh, I have appointments all day tomorrow.”
“That’s a shame because she’s heading to Scotland in the afternoon. But there’ll be other times to meet her.”