A clatter sounded from the kitchen. Helene called toward the kitchen. “Roswell, everything all right?” The old cook answered like a drunken sailor. Helene grinned and turned for the door. “I’d better get in there. When do you want to leave?”
And just like that, his time in Florida was over.
“Next week, I reckon.”
Helene hesitated, then walked over for a one-arm embrace. “I’m going to miss you. I’d like to say you were the son I never had, but even I couldn’t believe I’d ever give birth to a prince.”
“A prince is nothing more than a son, a brother, a friend.” Gus rested his chin on the top of her frizzy hair. “You and my mum would get along just fine.”
“Stop or you’ll make me cry.” Helene pulled away as another crash echoed from the bowels of the Hideaway. “What is going on in there?”
Gus laughed, his eyes misting. What was it his grandfather used to say? “If you didn’t miss where you’ve been, it didn’t mean that much to you.”
He wished he’d known his grandfather King Rein IV better. He died just after Gus’s fifth birthday.
Finishing outside, Gus dumped the dirty dish water and headed to load the dishwasher, surprised, yet not surprised, to see Carmen standing there.
“I thought you called off.”
“I changed my mind.” The man-child of twenty-two loaded the dishes.
“Carmen, I’m leaving soon. I’ve business elsewhere. Try to step it up for Helene.”
He looked at Gus with surprise. “Where’re you going?”
“Home.” To stand on precious Lauchtenland soil once again. The nation in the North Sea that defeated the Normans. That held off the Nazis when threatened, and that was becoming the Silicon Valley of Europe.
Now that he’d made up his mind, a tightness he didn’t know he had eased. He’d call John on his break. Let him know he’d be there for him.
Just like you were for me.
A lot of things had changed in the last year. He’d lost weight, muscled up, and become a regular Joe. Or a regular Pete as it were.
But it was time to be a prince again. To put the past behind him. Once and for all.
Chapter Three
Daffy
She was lost in a romance novel when Leslie Ann knocked on her door. They’d come in after lunch for naps and for assessing their sunburns.
Leslie Ann was burned but Ella was roasted. Daffy refrained from saying, “I told you so.” She, on the other hand, was a golden color with a touch of pink on her nose.
“I’m starving,” Leslie Ann said, smelling of aloe lotion. “Let’s go eat.”
Daffy closed her book. “How’s the burn victim?”
“Moaning. I just lathered her with lotion. She needs to get dressed.” Leslie Ann disappeared down the hall. “Ella, come on, we’re going to the Hideaway.”
“Just leave me for dead.” Ella’s response was muffled and pitiful.
Daffy stepped around Leslie Ann and eased open Ella’s door. “You’ll feel better if you get moving. After you eat.”
“Thank you for not saying ‘I told you so.’”
“You’re welcome.”
While Ella dressed to a constant chorus of “Ouch, ouch,” and “ooh, ooh,” Leslie Ann sorted the contents of her crossbody bag.
Daffy took a seat on the couch to check her email and listened to Mum’s voice message.
“Do you want to stage the wedding dresses at Hadsby for the ball?”
Stage the royal wedding dresses? At Hadsby Castle? For the ball? Mum, why are you even asking? Of course! Daffy answered with a text. Mum and Dad would be getting ready for bed.
Mum, yes!!!! I’ll stage the dresses. You know I’m dying to see the Princess Louisa.
Good. Are you sure? You’ll have to go straight up after your holiday. Won’t you miss Thomas?
He’ll understand. Seeing the Princess Louisa in person? I’m in.
“Ella, sometime this century, love.” Leslie Ann joined Daffy on the couch. “What was your mum’s message? Something about Hadsby?”
“Mum assigned me to the wedding dress parade at Hadsby.”
“You’ll finally get to see the Louisa?” Leslie Ann gripped Daffy’s arm and gave her the look—the one that said, “Get me in to do a feature.”
“You know the RT has strict media rules. You want to see the dress, go through the office.”
“What’s the benefit of having a friend with the Royal Trust if she won’t do me favors?” Leslie Ann tapped on her phone. “I have so many stories developing I won’t have time anyway. Ella! Coming or not?”
The Princess Louisa had set the standard in late nineteenth-and early twentieth-century wedding gowns. At least with the aristocracy and wealthy. Designed by an obscure Dalholm designer, Taffron Björk, the gown remained timeless. Taffron quickly faded from the fashion world, and the Louisa was his only known gown.
As for Daffy, both the gown and Björk fascinated her. She wrote her dissertation on its unique mark in the fashion world and how the RT maintained the gown one hundred twenty years later. She also recapped the life of the man who designed a wedding dress for a princess and was never heard of again.
He died in ’48 at the age of ninety-two. In her research, Daffy stumbled upon a quote from his beloved wife, who died in ’55, claiming he’d designed one last special gown before his death. If he had, no one had ever seen it.
“Help.” Ella appeared in the lounge wearing a yellow sundress, which only accentuated her radiating skin. She held her arms out to the side, her steps mimicking a bowlegged American cowboy. A bottle of Bactine dangling from her finger tips. “Spray me. I’m dying.”
“Come here, love. You’re not dying.” Daffy reached for the bottle and coated her sister’s skin with the liquid contents.
“I’m wondering why Ella and I look like Rudolph’s nose,” Leslie Ann said. “While Daffy looks like ‘The Girl from Ipanema.’ All golden and brown.”
“I inherited the Italian blood.”
“Italian blood? With your mass of red curls and blue eyes? Ella’s the one with dark hair and eyes.”
“Take it up with the Almighty.” Daffy applied another layer of Bactine. For good measure. Ella winced with every touch. “I got the Lauchten and Italian side of Dad’s family. Ella is stuck with Mum’s Lauchten and Irish. I had no choice in the matter.”
“Interesting.” Leslie Ann moved to the sliding glass door and stepped onto the deck. A saline breeze brushed through the cottage. “Well, you may have Italian blood and an enviable tan, but your face glowed this morning after talking to that shirtless chap with the abs.”
“So? I was warm from my errand. And what abs? He had abs?” Daffy capped the Bactine and walked with Ella out to the deck.
“Warm? The breeze was like ice. And don’t even tell me you didn’t see his abs. Lying doesn’t suit you.”
“No, that’s your thing.” With a laugh, Daffy linked her arm through her friend’s. “We’re in Florida on holiday. How glorious!”