Affairs of State

chapter Five

Ariella paced around her apartment. Her phone had been ringing off the hook all morning. She couldn’t ignore it because any call could easily be from an important client, but she was getting quite cagey about screening callers. The Examiner had printed a series of pictures of herself and Simon strolling through Georgetown the previous afternoon, so one more cat was out of the bag. She glanced at the familiar number with more than a little trepidation.

“Hi, Francesca.”

“Ariella, you keep knocking it right out of the park.”

“I know you’re not talking about my softball swing.”

“No, I’m talking about your ability to garner amazing publicity for the upcoming TV special. Liam says it will have the highest ratings of any show this year.”

“Oh, yes. That.” She went between regretting ever agreeing to it, and wanting to hurry up and get it over with. “Is there ever going to be a confirmed date for the taping?”

“They’re still trying to get a firm commitment from the White House. That’s about as easy as booking a date for the outbreak of a war. He’s hoping for next week or the week after though. How about bringing your new royal boyfriend?”

“No way.” She shoved a hand through her hair. “Besides, he has to go back to England for a bit.” Her gut clenched. He’d phoned her only half an hour ago to say he’d be flying back that afternoon on urgent family business. How long would he be gone for? He did live there after all. Maybe he wouldn’t come back and she’d be left to mop up one more scandal all by herself.

“You’re a very dark horse.”

“I totally am not. I’m the same person I’ve always been. It’s the rest of the world that’s crazy. Simon’s a sweet man who happens to have been born into a famous family.”

“Just like you happen to have been born to one.”

She hesitated. “I guess you’re right. He’s not at all like you’d expect. Very unpretentious and genuine.”

“And dead sexy.”

“Yes. That, too.” He seemed to grow more handsome every time she saw him. Or was that just because she was falling in love with him?

Her thoughts screeched to a halt. She was absolutely not allowed to fall in love with anyone on such short notice. Love was a big, long, lifetime thing that had to be carefully planned so that no one’s heart got broken. She and Simon both agreed they didn’t know where their…thing was going, and that they’d take it one step at a time.

“Didn’t you realize the photographers would see you together?”

They had. In fact the photo opportunity was planned. They wanted to get it over with so they could stop meeting only in dark private corners surrounded by armed guards. “Photographers see everything I do lately. They’re always lurking about somewhere.” It was a relief to shed the cloak of secrecy, but also alarming to give people one more thing to gossip about.

“Well, I’m so impressed with how you seem to take everything in stride. Anyone would think you’d been born in the public eye and handling it all your life.”

“I suppose I’m like a duck where everything looks calm and smooth above the water, but underneath I’m paddling like mad.” She needed to get to the gym so she could run off some energy on a machine. Otherwise she might explode.

“No way you’re a duck, Ari. You’re a swan. A royal swan.”

She paced back into the kitchen and poured herself a cool glass of water. “There’s nothing royal about me. I hope Simon’s family aren’t having a cow now that the story’s broken in the press over there.”

“How could they possibly not like you?”

* * *

Simon flew into Cardiff so he could drive directly to Dysart Castle in the Welsh Marches. The estate was the seat of his uncle Derek, the Duke of Aylesbury. It was Derek who had insisted in the strongest terms that he return to England and confront the “noxious” rumors about his affair with an American commoner.

Derek strode into the drawing room in his shooting jacket shortly before the usual lunch hour. He was damp from the mist of rain and had probably been out killing things since dawn. “Ah, you’re here.”

Master of the bleeding obvious, as usual. “You said it was urgent.”

Derek peered at him from beneath his bushy salt-and-pepper brows. “Her Majesty is beside herself at the ugly stories splashed all over yesterday’s papers. Your visit to the States has obviously grown overextended if the American press has the time and energy to invent silly stories about you.”

“It’s not a story. Ariella and I have grown close.” And he looked forward to growing a lot closer. It had taken all his self-control to stop at kissing her. He’d managed because he knew there was something special about her, and he didn’t want to do anything to endanger their budding relationship.

“Well, you’d better grow distant, immediately. You’re second in line to the throne, man. You can’t kiss any girl with a pretty smile who happens to cross your path.”

Simon stiffened. “Ariella is not just anyone. She’s intelligent, charming and has more poise than most of us royals put together.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. She’s American. You remember what happened last time one of our family got involved with an American. He gave up the throne of England! Madness.” Derek shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it over a gilded chair. “Break it off with her immediately and pray that she doesn’t make a big fuss in the media.”

“Ariella would never do such a thing. And I most certainly am not going to break it off with her.”

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?

She turned left and he hurried to keep up, in case she disappeared into one of the tall Edwardian buildings lining the street. She’d tucked her phone back into her purse and strode on, looking intently ahead. Then she stopped.

This time he glanced behind him before halting, to avoid a collision. She pulled out a piece of paper and glanced up at the plaque on the house. Then she climbed the steps, rang a bell, and entered through a pair of heavy wood doors.

He approached the building a full minute later and paused as discreetly as possible in front of the doorway. The Westchester Club. He had no idea what that was, only that he wanted to gain entry. He strolled to the end of the block, pretended to casually consult a No Parking sign and considered his options.

* * *

Ariella’s heart pounded as she climbed into the elevator and pressed a button. It was the old-fashioned kind of elevator with the sliding iron gates, and hearing the porter slam them behind her didn’t help her nerves. Her mother was waiting for her on the fifth floor.

Scarlet had suggested this private club as a venue. Rooms were available for rent only to the most exclusive groups, and Scarlet had called in a favor to secure one for this afternoon, since it was near Ariella’s hotel so she could get there without attracting attention.

She pulled off the cheesy blond wig she’d bought to keep photographers off her scent, and loosed her hair from its bun. The elevator jerked to a halt on the fifth floor. She hauled back the iron gate and stepped out onto a polished wood floor. The hallway contained three tall doors, and she was wondering which one was number 503, when one of the doors opened.

“Ariella?” The tentative voice came from a slender, pretty woman with curly light brown hair.

“Yes?” There was a question in her voice, as if she wasn’t quite sure who she was any more. She wanted to greet the woman as “Mom,” but that seemed presumptuous. Her heart beat so fast she could hardly speak. “You must be Eleanor.”

Eleanor’s hands had risen to cover her mouth as tears welled in her big green eyes. Eyes almost exactly like her own. “You’re so beautiful. Even more so than in the photos.”

“You’re sweet. And you look far too young to be the mother of a twenty-eight-year-old.” She looked like she was still in her thirties, with smooth pale skin and a girlish figure.

“I am too young to be the mother of a twenty-eight-year-old.” She shrugged and smiled. “That was the problem, really. I got pregnant when I was too young to be ready.” Tears ran down her cheeks. “And I missed out on so much.”

Eleanor seemed ready to lose it, and Ariella wanted to comfort her, but didn’t know how. She ushered her back into the room, which was a large drawing room with several graciously upholstered sofas. “Shall we sit down?”

“Oh, yes.” Eleanor pulled out a tissue and wiped her face. “I’m sorry I’m making such a fool of myself. It’s just that…I’ve waited so long for this moment and I wasn’t sure it would ever come.”

“Me, too. I can hardly believe we’re finally getting to meet.” They sat next to each other on the plush sofa, and she took Eleanor’s hands in her own and squeezed them. Her skin was cool and soft. Cold hands, warm heart. The cliché popped into her mind. “Thank you so much for coming to London to see me.”

“It’s my great pleasure. I’m too afraid to travel to the States. I feel like they’d know who I was when I go through airport security and there’d be a big to do.” Eleanor had picked up an Irish lilt to her voice. “I’m very shy, really. That’s one of the reasons why I knew I wouldn’t be good for Ted. He was always so outgoing and friendly and loved to be around people.”

Ariella realized that Ted was the man she still thought of as the president of the United States. “Was he your boyfriend?” She only knew what she’d read in the papers, and she knew from firsthand experience they weren’t always a reliable source.

Eleanor sighed. “He was. We dated our junior and senior years in high school. I was so in love!” Her soft eyes looked distant. “Even then he had big plans and intended to go away to college. He dreamed of being a Rhodes Scholar and studying abroad, and then he wanted to join the Peace Corps and travel. He always had such grand ambitions.”

“Well, he’s achieved the highest office an American can attain.”

Eleanor nodded. Her mouth tightened for a moment, her lip almost quivering. Ariella ached to put her arms around this delicate and nervous woman, but didn’t want to frighten her. “I never did really understand what he saw in me. He said he found me very peaceful.” Her eyes twinkled with the memory.

“I’m sure an energetic and outgoing man needs peace more than anyone.”

She smiled at Ariella. “Maybe so. My husband, Greg, was a quiet man. Not as exciting as Ted but a good man who I shared a happy marriage with for twenty-three years. He died of a heart attack. Far too young, he was.” Tears welled in her eyes again.

“I’m sorry. I would have liked to meet him.”

Eleanor’s gaze focused on her. “Did you tell me that you’ve never met Ted?”

Ariella swallowed and shook her head. “Not yet, but…” She paused. It sounded pathetic really. Embarrassing. How could they have gone all this time—nearly two months since the DNA test results were released—without any contact at all?

“I’m sure Ted wants to meet you. I know it in my heart.” She squeezed Ariella’s hands. “They must be keeping him from you. You must reach out to him.”

“I’ve been talking to ANS about doing a taped reunion. It should take place soon.”

“On television?” Eleanor’s eyes widened into shock.

She nodded. “My friend Francesca’s husband is president of the network. Apparently the White House is almost ready to agree to a date.”

Eleanor winced. “A private meeting would be so much nicer.”

“I know, but the president isn’t a private person, really. Not to the point where I could call him up and introduce myself. Somehow it seemed more…doable.”

“You’re outgoing, too, aren’t you?” She smiled slightly.

“I suppose I am. I plan parties for a living. I love getting people together and making it an occasion to remember.”

She smiled again. “You must get that from Ted. You have his cheekbones, too. And that sparkle of determination he always had in his eye.”

“I think you and I look alike, too.” She drank in the precious sight of her birth mother’s face. “Our faces are similar shapes, and we’re both tall and slim.”

“Will o’ the Wisp, Ted used to call me. Said a strong breeze would blow me away one day. I suppose in a way he was right. It blew me over to Ireland and I didn’t dare to look back.”

“I’m sure he’d love to see you again.”

Her eyes widened into a look of panic. “Oh, no. No. I’m sure he’d never forgive me for what I did. I thought it was for the best but looking back I can see that not telling him he had a child was a terrible thing to do. An act of cowardice. I won’t forgive myself and I wouldn’t expect him to, either.”

Not knowing her famous father, Ariella wasn’t really in a position to argue with her. “Why didn’t you tell him?”

“I knew he’d do the right thing.” She said it with mocking emphasis. “Not the right thing for him and the big career he’d dreamed of, but the right thing in the eyes of our parents and pastors and neighbors. He’d settle down in our small town in Montana and live a tiny fraction of the live he’d imagined, because he’d be forced to support a family instead of going off to the big college he’d won a scholarship to. I could never let him throw away his future like that.”

“You could have let him make the decision himself.”

“I know. Now I know that.” Tears welled in her eyes again. “I didn’t want him to grow to hate me so I did the one thing that should truly make him hate me. I gave away our child and never told him she existed.” She broke down into sobs.

Unable to hold back any longer, Ariella wrapped her arms around Eleanor’s slim shoulders and held her tight, her own tears falling. “Everything happens for a reason,” she said softly. “Maybe we’ll never even know the true reason, but I believe that all the same.”

“You’re a very clever girl. I can see that in your eyes.” Eleanor dabbed at her own eyes with a tissue. “You have your dad’s keen intelligence. I bet you have a university degree, don’t you?”

Ariella nodded. “In history, from Georgetown.”

“It’s such a coincidence that both you and Ted wound up living in Washington, D.C.” She blew her nose.

“It is strange.”

At that moment the door opened and their heads swung around. Ariella gasped when she saw Simon standing in the doorway.