Affairs of State (Daughters of Power: The Capital #6)(10)
Author: Jennifer Lewis

Derek’s already bilious face reddened further. “I thought your irresponsible and reckless days were behind you. Your older brother is married to a delightful and entirely suitable woman. Look upon him as an example.”

“I honor and respect my brother and look forward to saluting him as my monarch. I feel confident that he will enjoy Ariella’s company as much as I do.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. And she’s the daughter of the president. We have enough trouble negotiating the maelstrom of American politics without you allying yourself with the daughter of one party’s leader.”

“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.”

“I’m sorry I can’t make it.” Was it rude to say you’d rather spend the night in a meat locker than brave a lunch with one of the world’s longest-reigning monarchs? Of course if things persisted with Simon, she’d eventually have to meet Her Majesty, but right now everything was very new and tentative and she had a feeling that no one would be rolling out the red carpet for her at the palace.

Not that she wanted them to. She didn’t know what she wanted. “I’d love to see you, really I would, but…”

“Dinner tomorrow. My driver will pick you up with exquisite discretion. No one will know you’re with me.”

“I can’t. I have a dinner meeting.”

“That won’t take all night.”

She swallowed, and attempted a laugh. “I need to sleep, too. I wish I had more time for…fun, but this is a business trip.” A pause made her nervous. Was he offended? It certainly wasn’t good for business to snub a prince. She didn’t want to book anything for after her mom’s visit, as she was hoping they’d hit it off and spend hours together. “My last appointment is Thursday afternoon at three and my flight isn’t until the next morning.”

“So you can squeeze dinner with me into your busy schedule on Thursday?” Was he teasing or mad?

“I could, if that works for you. Of course if you’re too busy, I quite understand.” London whipped by outside her window, as rows of identical suburban houses gave way to more office buildings and shops.

“I’d clear my schedule in a heartbeat for the mere chance of laying eyes on you.”

Okay, now he was kidding. “I don’t think that will be necessary. Let’s make plans closer to Thursday, okay? I hope nothing crazy happens between now and then, but you never know.” She could hardly believe she was telling a prince that she couldn’t commit to anything firm.

“I’m penciling it in.” She could hear the irony in his voice. “And call me at once if there’s anything you need. Our entire nation is at your disposal.”

“Thanks.” She grinned. “Much appreciated.”

She shook her head as she put her phone away. How had her life changed so much in six short months? There were even photographers at the airport, though she doubted they’d get much money for photos of her in jeans and with her hair in a messy bun, carrying her luggage to the taxi rank. There was so much to be excited about, sometimes it was hard to remember that she had plenty to be afraid of as well.

Meeting her reclusive mother, hopefully meeting her famous father and now a romance with a man who made her smile each time she thought of him. It was all just a little too fabulous. Rather like teetering on a tightrope between two skyscrapers. She had to keep her chin up, her eyes forward and put one foot in front of the other, and hopefully in another six months she’d be in an even better place, where everything wasn’t quite so strange and precarious.

“You come from America?” The cab driver’s loud Cockney voice jolted her from her thoughts. He didn’t wait for an answer. “You ’eard about this girl who’s supposed to be the daughter of your president?”

She froze. Did he recognize her? He looked in his side mirror and changed lanes. “I’m not sure who you mean.”

“Pretty girl. Long brown ’air. Looks a bit like you.” His eyes fixed on hers again in the mirror. She blinked. “Papers say she’s ’avin’ an affair with our Prince Simon. Some people have all the luck, don’t they?”

“Oh, yes.” She pretended to text on her phone, keeping her head down. Maybe he was fishing for information he could sell to the London tabloid that always had a bare-breasted woman on page three. “Very lucky.”

She kept her head down until they pulled up in front of her hotel. Mercifully there wasn’t a photographer in sight and she checked in and changed, telling herself to be prepared for anything.

* * *

Frustration made Simon spring from his chair and pace across the room. How could Ariella be right here in his own country and too busy to see him? Their few days of separation had him in an agony of anticipation. Now he had to wait until Thursday to see her?

He called her on Monday night, hoping that her dinner meeting would be over and they could plan a moonlit tryst. No dice. She was still in consultation with a client, and she wouldn’t even reveal the person’s name. He rather suspected it was his schoolmate Toby Buckingham, and he tried calling him to intercept from another direction, but Toby didn’t even answer.

On Tuesday morning he tried again, hoping for a quick tea, only to be politely brushed off. Restless as hell by Wednesday afternoon, he threw on a panama hat that covered his face and decided to stroll the short distance from St James’s Palace to Buckingham Palace. Maybe he’d go for a ride on one of the queen’s horses. He told his driver, who doubled as security, to head there without him so he could get some fresh air. David didn’t make a fuss. He knew that nothing was likely to happen on the quiet streets between the two palaces, and Simon had his phone if needed.

He was walking briskly, trying to banish the vision of Ariella’s intoxicating beauty from his mind, when a girl walking along the other side of the street, in the opposite direction, caught his eye.

She walked exactly like Ariella. Long-legged, and graceful as a gazelle, with the slightly loping stride of someone in a hurry. But this woman had shoulder-length blond hair. Large dark glasses hid her face. He turned and stared after her as she passed.

That was Ariella’s walk. And those were her shoes. The sight of those simple black ballet flats she favored sent a jolt of adrenaline to his own feet. He turned, following her, still on the opposite side of the street.

Why would she be in disguise? The hair must be a wig. The neat black skirt did nothing to disguise the elegant swing of her hips. He’d recognize that walk anywhere. Who was she hiding from? She had no reason to conceal her movements to plan the big wedding she was here to organize. She was used to photographers tracking her and mostly ignored them, as he’d witnessed on several occasions in D.C.

She was doing something that she didn’t want anyone to know about. Including him.

She crossed the road to his side and he slowed his pace and hung back a little. Not that she even glanced at him. She was lost in a world of her own, barely noticing the other people on the pavement. She walked fast, but he had no trouble keeping up.

Why are you following her?

Because I want to know where she’s going.

Something in his gut told him that this was wrong. She had a right to privacy. In fact they’d had several long discussions about how much they valued their right to privacy, which was often under siege. Somehow, that didn’t stop him.

She turned left, down a small side road. She hesitated and pulled a phone out of her pocket, causing him to stop in his tracks. A man walking behind him bumped into him, and by the time he’d apologized she was walking again. Talking on the phone.

He couldn’t hear what she was saying, but her singsong laugh was unmistakable. Which confirmed what he already knew. Ariella Winthrop was walking through Mayfair in disguise, and he was going to find out why.

Why hadn’t she told him where she was going? Fresh from defending her to his suspicious family, he found doubts sneaking into his mind. He knew she wouldn’t leak stories of their romance to the media. Would she? Not that there was anything to leak, though he intended to change that as soon as humanly possible.

Could it be something to do with her famous father? They hadn’t spoken much about him. She seemed to find the subject awkward, considering that she’d never met him.

Or was there another man in her life? His mind and body recoiled from the idea and he didn’t believe it for a moment. But where was she going?