Royal(68)
“It’s been my dream all my life,” she said quietly. “If I had the chance I’d do it.” She was always honest with him. “But I don’t have the chance.”
“I hope it stays that way.” He didn’t speak again until they got to the restaurant and then he relaxed, and she noticed the queen watching them once or twice, and wondered if she suspected anything. But she had no reason to object. She’d known Anthony all his life, and there was nothing she could object to. His father was a lord, he was well educated, well brought up, and a gentleman. She might object to their having an affair, but they were both single, and it was 1967, not 1910. And thanks to Anthony and his friend in New York, she was on the pill, so she wasn’t going to get pregnant and cause a scandal with a child out of wedlock. And they intended to get married. Someday. Although neither of them was in a rush. They had everything they wanted now. The queen didn’t ask any questions, or comment, nor did Victoria, who was there that night too.
In May, on Annie’s birthday, Anthony took her to dinner at Harry’s Bar, and dancing at Annabel’s afterward, since he was a member of both clubs. They ran into Victoria, who arrived at Annabel’s shortly after they did, with a married American she’d been dating less than discreetly, which the queen wasn’t pleased about. Victoria took one look at them, and could see what had happened. She sent over a bottle of champagne after wishing Annie a happy birthday, and in return, they toasted her and her handsome friend. He was a well-known actor, married to a movie star, and wanted to divorce his wife for Victoria. It had been all over the tabloids.
By coincidence, they left the club at the same time, and the paparazzi were waiting for Victoria and her movie star. They got photographs of Annie and Anthony too, and recognized both of them. It was a bonus for the paparazzi, and the tabloids were full of both couples the next day, with the headline over Annie and Anthony’s photograph, ROYAL WEDDING BELLS? GOOD JOB, ANTHONY!
The queen called Annie that morning from Buckingham Palace and discreetly asked if the rumor was true. Were she and Anthony planning to get married?
“We’re seeing each other,” Annie admitted with nothing to hide, “but we have no plans to marry at the moment. It still seems too soon, to both of us.” It was the truth.
“I have no objection, as long as he’s sown the last of his wild oats. He was a bit of a playboy for a few years, I believe. But he’s the right age to settle down, if he has.” He had just turned thirty-one, and she was twenty-three now. “He’s a lovely young man. I’ve known his family all my life. Just don’t wait too long, if that’s what you want to do. You don’t want to become fodder for the tabloids, and have the paparazzi following you around all the time. Once you’re married, they’ll lose interest.” Annie didn’t want to marry just to get rid of the paparazzi, but the queen had made herself clear. She had conservative values and she preferred marriage to dating. “You’re old enough now, dear.” But Annie didn’t feel old enough at twenty-three, and she was still getting used to the royal life. It was her first taste of what Anthony disliked so much, pressure from the Crown.
She reported the conversation to Anthony when he called her, and he was annoyed.
“That was my point earlier. I don’t want the House of Windsor telling us what to do. We should get married when we want to. We’re just getting started. What’s the hurry?”
“I’d rather wait awhile too. Twenty-three seems so young to get married. I kind of thought twenty-five or -six,” Annie said thoughtfully.
“Thirty-one seems young to me too. I used to think thirty-five was the right age for a man. We’ll know when it’s right. But it should be up to us. She’s going to put the heat on now. And can you imagine what she must have said to Victoria today? She must be having a fit over that.” She was, and had told her sister to break it off immediately before she disgraced herself again. Victoria was used to it by now. She’d been battling with her family over who she dated for twenty years, and seemed to take pleasure in shocking them, the public, and the press. Annie and Anthony didn’t want to be part of that.
Lord Hatton called Anthony for confirmation too, and said he was delighted about Annie. He couldn’t have made a better choice, and when were they getting married. He hoped it would be soon. Like the queen, he thought they should get out of the public eye and the press quickly, and marriage was the fastest way to do that. It seemed like the wrong reason to marry, to both of them.
Jonathan called to tell her he was thrilled, he liked Anthony immensely, and to do whatever she wanted. But the palace and even Anthony’s father were pushing for a fast marriage, which felt rushed to them. They refused to be pushed, much to the queen’s chagrin, but she had bigger problems with her sister.
* * *
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Annie went to Saint Tropez with Anthony that summer for her holiday, and they were beleaguered by the paparazzi and followed everywhere and had to take refuge on a friend’s yacht, and sailed for Sardinia, where it happened all over again. It was endless. Whenever they went out, in London or any other city, even if they went to the grocery store, they wound up all over the tabloids, kissing, not kissing, holding hands, having an argument in the park once. Anthony was seriously annoyed about it.