Chapter 3

As I disembarked from the Bentley, I considered topics for the evening’s conversation. The renovated church would be a good topic as well as their roots in the Palmetto State. Having researched South Carolina and the name Calhoun, I’d discovered interesting facts to feed my history-loving soul.

When possible, I preferred to drive my car du jour. The Maserati was well known and inviolate. However tonight, a liveried driver had delivered me to the engagement. Limited vehicle space near the ambassador’s residence required street parking. Once, and only once, I’d tried roadside parking and regretted that decision when a merry driver smashed the rear quarter panel of my beautiful metal beast, much to the other driver’s dismay.

Adjusting my cuffs, I swaggered to the door, but in minutes my swaggering days came to an amazing and screeching halt. I rang the bell. The door opened. I froze. The sound of tires hissing on pavement and the scent of food tried to intrude, but I was lost, gazing into the greenest eyes I’d ever seen. The bottle of wine, the obligatory gift from a dinner guest, felt like a lead weight in my hand. My voice deserted me, but the vision before me sharpened. Blonde strands glinted in her copper hair. Face like an angel, she smiled.

Onyx-green eyes. Copper hair. “We’ve met before,” I heard myself say.

For two racing heartbeats, she only smiled, then very softly, “Have we?” Before I could reply, she ducked a quick, graceful bend of the knee in a formal welcome. “Prince Alexander, please come in. The ambassador hasn’t yet found a butler.”

“I’m here to apply for the position.” Working as a butler might be fun if she were the downstairs maid.

She laughed. “Things must be rough at the palace.”

I grinned. “You’ve no idea.”

“Please come in. How long have I kept you standing in the rain? I apologize.”

With the rain had come an unseasonable chill. I stepped into the warm foyer of black-and-white tiled floor and walls hung with family portraits, among them a beaming Chrissy.

When she shook her hair back from her face, I saw the goose egg and cut on her forehead. “Yes, Ginny MacDonald, we have met, but you may not remember. Not long ago. In fact, I’d say forty-five minutes ago.”

She looked down, a blush creeping into her cheeks. “The accident. You were there. I thought I’d imagined it. Or, at least, that’s what the medics led me to believe.” Our eyes met, and hers gleamed wicked, wicked green. “I’d only gone out to run an errand, and I totaled the ambassador’s Audi.”

“No good deed and all that.” I made a dimissory gesture. “He won’t have any trouble replacing it. Audis are common in this country.”

“Oh, you are irreverent.” She shot me a smile that turned my heart upside down and sideways.

This sensation was new and different to me, and my mind took a minute to process the flood of impressions. “No,” I lifted my hand in a vow. “They actually are.” And then another odd thing happened. My tongue ran away with me. “I wouldn’t mind if you wrecked my car. It wasn’t your fault, and you’re sporting quite a knot on your head. Are you all right?”

“Really?” She tilted her head, gazing at me through her lashes. “You wouldn’t mind if I wrecked your car? The Maserati?”

“I have eight cars.” Pretty Ginny must have been reading the tabloids to know I had a Maserati, then it followed she knew about Ingrid. Not a good start...

“Ha!” She extended her arms. “I’ll take your coat, even though the raindrops on the shoulders are quite a special touch.”

I shrugged out of my coat, but when she moved to take it, I turned and hung it on the antique brass coatrack. “Not to usurp your position, but perhaps, I can help the ambassador find a butler.”

“Thanks, but I rather like my position,” she said with a twinkle in those beautiful eyes. “I’m Ginny, as you know. Chrissy’s friend from Charleston. I’m spending the summer with her.”

“Why we’re almost old friends, Ginny. Chrissy mentioned you at the ball.” Thunder drowned out my racing heart as rain lashed the mullioned windows. “Pleased to meet you…under better circumstances.”

“And I am pleased to meet you, Prince Alexander.” Did the lower lip of her smile tremble? Did tears mist her eyes?

“Were you injured in the accident? Should you be answering the door?”

“I asked to answer the door,” she said.

In this instance, as in many others, my training served me well. Ginny, in a long amber dress, had thrown me off my game. I usually wasn’t at a loss for words, but now I said the only thing I could think of to say, but at least, not the first thing that came to mind. I nodded and smiled. “Thank you.” As she turned to guide me down a hall I’d walked before, I scraped myself together and said, “`I read several books on Charleston. Historic city on the South Carolina coast. I understand Charleston is lovely.”

Though I could have led, I followed her down the wide hallway toward voices in what had been renovated into a parlor. The original church parsonage had been far too small for our first American ambassador. The Parsonage, as it now stood, incorporated a small portion of the old cathedral. The remainder of the historic church was now the American Embassy. When asked whether he preferred modern offices, John had jumped in with, “Nothing modern, please.”

“Charleston is beautiful to me,” Ginny was saying, “but then it’s my home. I was born there. When I return, I’m registered at MUSC. I won’t even have to leave, but I must hurry and find an apartment.”

Her accent enchanted me…far more than Chrissy’s. There was a subtle difference in the two, rather like different dialects across a country. My friend Ginny and I are fans of yours, Chrissy had said. I wouldn’t mention this confidence. I had a feeling it would embarrass Ginny.

Sometimes, I wished I wasn’t burdened with a crown. People treated you differently. You were royalty—a breed apart. What if I’d met Ginny without a title hanging over my head? Was she nervous? She was a bit pale, and the hands clasped in front of her seemed to tremble. Yet, being a prince had gained me two gorgeous admirers from the USA.

Ginny twisted around to smile, and a pleasing tremor resonated through me. “Your country is beautiful, mountains to seashore. I’m glad I had the opportunity to visit.”

I couldn’t understand my overwhelming reaction and wild attraction. Mentally, I ticked off—one, she was beautiful. Every day, I met beautiful women. Two, she had a pleasant laugh. Three, her copper hair, and four, I loved the light sprinkling of freckles across her nose. They made her look like a minx. I could have gone on, but none of it added up to this state of my emotions.

“Thank you, Ginny. I’d be delighted to show you more of our natural beauty. The mountains with crystal clear streams trickling down through leaves and over moss-covered stones. Best water in the world. It’s not far from the snow-capped peaks to the seashore.”

Her eyes widened; her lips parted on an indrawn breath. I forgot the minx. I’d never seen a woman look more enchanting…or more enchanted. For a second, we merely stared into each other’s eyes, but Chrissy pranced into the hall, her high heels clicking as, in a dress of ivory lace, she hurried toward us.

“Lex, you’re here. Thanks for joining us.” Since Ginny faced me, Chrissy would be unaware of her friend’s crumbling expression. “Mom and Dad are in the parlor. Of course, you’ve met my friend Ginny.” She took my free hand, and I remembered the wine. “Welcome. Come in. We’re enjoying a sherry before dinner.”

As we continued our stiletto-clicking journey to the parlor, Chrissy led with Ginny trailing a step behind me. Her heels tapped a different, solid rhythm. From what I’d seen earlier, Ginny was no timid little mouse. Why was she trailing behind? I was tempted to wait and walk beside her, but at that moment, the blonde hesitated.

“Ginny, did you tell Lex about your accident, or did he see your hens’ egg?” Chrissy laughed. “Cook ran out of milk. Being sweet, Ginny ran out, and some guy in an SUV slammed into her, totaling Dad’s car.”

“Both.” Ginny didn’t need to elaborate.

“There may be complications that’ll delay her return home. YAY. With the law I mean,” Chrissy said.

“I can take care of any problems.” I glanced behind at Ginny. “Okay?”

Chrissy patted my shoulder. “Of course! Oops, sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have touched you.”

I laughed. “No problem.”

“Game on,” Ginny muttered.

I didn’t have to wonder what Ginny meant. At least, not for long. Chrissy stayed at my side, leading on without a glance behind at her friend. I watched pictures on the wall scrolling by. A couple were of a smiling young Isabel and John in his white Citadel uniform.

Chrissy stood aside to gesture us into the parlor. “Were your ears burning?” She shot me a brief but stunning smile. “We were talking about you, weren’t we, Ginny?”

Ambassador Calhoun rose. Mrs. Calhoun set aside her gleaming sherry glass and stood. In a plain black sheath and pearls, with her graying blonde tresses coiled at her neck, she looked almost like a queen in her own right. The Ambassador’s wife was quite impressive, and a lesser man than John Calhoun might have become invisible at her side. It was easy to see where Chrissy came by her good looks.

“Welcome, Prince Alexander.” Isabel spoke first. “We’re delighted you joined us.”

While she greeted me, John strode forward, hand extended. “Very glad. We’ve employed a new cook.”

Low enough that only I’d hear, Ginny whispered, “They needed a guinea pig. Tag. You’re it.”

Again, life-long training rescued me. Still, I almost laughed aloud as I handed the ambassador the wine. “It is definitely my pleasure. Good to see you and your family again and to meet Ginny from Charleston.” I half-turned to Ginny, but she was now at my side. Blonde to the left of me, redhead to the right, I was in a good/bad position for a man.

An odd expression flickered across Chrissy’s face, and I made my decision. Bad position. Something was suddenly brewing, and I was certain I didn’t want to be in the middle.

“Sherry?” Isabel offered.

“Yes, please.”

After sherry, John directed our dinner party to the dining room. The escort cards seated me at the head of the table with John to my right, Isabel to my left with Chrissy to her mother’s left, and Ginny across the table. I’d much have preferred for Ginny to be near me, a vain hope under the circumstances. In accordance with age-old protocols, they waited for me to sit before taking their seats.

As the sommelier poured the wine, I opened with a safe topic—South Carolina history. “Ambassador, are you descended from John Caldwell Calhoun?”

“The political theorist and seventh Vice President of the country?” He laughed. “Oh yes, distantly. You’ve brushed up on South Carolina.”

I nodded. “I know it was the first to secede from the Union, but the material I read said the chief reasons for the war were economic, not slavery as most people believe.”

“Aren’t all wars economic or territorial?” John sobered. “Yes, the War Between the States was economic.”

Having also read how sensitive the subject of the Civil War still was in America. I decided to change the subject. “I must visit South Carolina; in fact, your entire country.” I glanced at Ginny.

She was staring at me. Not smiling. Not frowning. I’m good at reading people, but I couldn’t read her expression, which intrigued me. When she saw me looking at her, she blinked back from whatever her thoughts to smile. Her teeth were so perfect and white I was again dazzled.

“Don’t get John started on the Civil War. He’ll enlighten you with facts that contradict the textbooks.” Isabel lifted her glass in a salute. “When you visit, we’d be honored if you’d stay with us, but I imagine you’ll be whisked off to the White House.”

“Surely, I may choose.” By force of will alone, I avoided looking at my redhead when I said, “Ginny makes a most charming butler.” I shot her a grin. “I propose you hire her.”

“Ah, but she plans a career in medicine. We can’t have a doctor answering our door.” John sliced into his thick, rare steak. “Besides, I have other plans for Miss Ginny.”

Smiling, Ginny and Chrissy exchanged a quick, excited glance. Ginny’s every emotion showed on her face, so it was simple to see that she’d have loved for John to continue. Teasing her, I suspected, he said nothing further on the subject. He led me into a discussion of the history of the cathedral and the renovation of the buildings that were now the embassy and the Parsonage.

Dinner proceeded without resolving the causes for the American Civil War and with no further mention about Miss Ginny’s future. We lingered over after dinner drinks. The four of them seemed most eager to learn about my country. Desjardins was my favorite subject. Sometimes I tired of living in a fishbowl, but at the end of the day, I am devoted to King and Country.

***

Past midnight, I arrived at the palace in a driving rain. The driver successfully escorted me beneath a gold umbrella, though, in all honesty, the weather suited my mood. The steady plop of the rain over my head sounded like the percussion in a symphony of the night. I hurried to my chambers, passing no one, and rang Eugenie. If my sister was in trouble, she turned to me. If I needed someone, I called on her. She knew me better than anyone, and I needed help sorting my jumbled feelings—and make no mistake, Ginny had tangled my emotions into an unrecognizable muddle “What the hell, Lex? It’s past midnight.” The sound of ice cubes tinkling on crystal greeted me.

“Don’t complain. I didn’t wake you.” I sloshed brandy into a snifter. “Eugenie, I need to talk.”

Instantly, she dropped the sarcasm. “What’s wrong?”

“I met someone this evening.” I perched on the edge of the bed, letting images of Ginny glide past my eyes. An odd thing happened. My phone buzzed for a text. At this hour?

“You meet lots of someones every evening. What’s different this time?” A loving and leaving song played low in the background. Eugenie had developed a taste for country music with her last serious affair, and even if the guy hadn’t, the predilection had.

“Is this a good time?” I crossed to the window overlooking a walled courtyard below. “Are you okay, Eugenie?”

“This conversation is about you, brother-dearest, or am I wrong?’

“Very well then. Are you comfortably seated? I’ll begin.” It was a private joke. As kids we’d had a tutor who always began lessons with Are you seated comfortably? I’ll begin.

She laughed. “Monsieur DuMont. What a prick. I’m comfortably seated. Do begin. Will this take all night? I need to set my alarm to wake me if I fall asleep. You won’t mind if I take it all into my subconscious mind, will you?”

“I expect answers.” I rose, wandering, picking up things, putting them down. “She’s American. Visiting the Ambassador’s daughter for the summer. She has coppery hair with blonde streaks, and the most amazing green eyes—”

“Whoa. So far, you’re describing one of the millions of American tourists this year. What’s so different about her? Surely, it’s more than red hair—I never knew you liked redheads.”

Finding myself at the window, I set my glass on the marble ledge and flung open the casement on a chill, damp summer breeze. “I feel like I’ve known her all my life. In our very brief conversation, I felt as at home talking to her as I would you.”

“No. No.” She tut-tutted her tongue. “She can’t replace me.”

“No one can replace you.”

“So, you’re soul mates. What else?”

“I don’t know about soul mates, but I’m very, very attracted to her. More so than ever, but it’s complicated. The ambassador’s daughter seems to have designs on me. They’re best friends. She’s only here for the summer. There’s Ingrid…” I closed the casement, turned to pace my cage.

“She’s not queen material, Lex.”

“If I rely on Papa’s judgment, I’ll be married tomorrow to some buck-toothed princess…You know how that would play out.”

“Lex-luv, if you fell in love with this American chick…if you started hearing wedding bells, it would be a disaster. You’re the People’s darling. You can do no wrong. But. The Council would do everything in their power—and that’s a lot—to stop you. Father and Mother would be against it. Last but not least, the poor thing hasn’t been born and raised to be Queen. I was, and I know I couldn’t take it. It would be another Queen Porsha tragedy.”

“Not many people have been born and raised to a crown.” I took a long drink from the brandy. “Or instead of the Porsha disaster, it could be a Grace Kelly success. You could be Queen. We’ll fight the Council together. We could rule together.”

“Hold it.” I imagined Eugenie with her hand raised, glass balanced in her long fingers. “I’m not going there. Those old bastards would rather die than see me on the throne. Anyway, I remind you this conversation is about you. Makes for a change.” The refrigerator door slammed, and a blender whirred. “I’m making a frozen pina colada. I miss the beach life. If I could have been a beach bum, I’d still be in Desjardins.”

I tensed for the explosion when I dropped a bomb. “If it hadn’t been for Xavier, you’d still be in Desjardins.”

“Hell no. Leave Xavier out of this.” She went silent for a moment. Remembering? I was. “You called to talk about your romantic woes.”

“Settle down, sister-dearest. Her name is Ginny.” I finished the brandy, then set it aside. “It’s strange. I sensed this mysterious feeling between us—”

“Lust.”

“No.”

“And Ingrid? Not that I give a happy damn, mind you. She irritates the living bejesus out of me—”

If Ingrid were the subject of a palace popularity poll, her ratings would be lower than my favorite TV show, which had just been cancelled.

“Ah, yes, Ingrid.” I paced my regal chambers, feeling like an intruder. “I’m not in love with Ingrid. I know that now. Actually, I knew it before, but meeting Ginny has confirmed it.”

“Lex, sit down and stop pacing your room.” She paused to sip her cocktail. “Now, I…I don’t know what to say. I’ve been in lust but have no idea what that other l-word feels like.”

“Confusing.” I flopped on the bed and didn’t again mention Xavier’s name My sister hated being reminded of her affair with one of my cavalrymen…because she was still in love with him. “A bit like being lightning struck. I no more than touched her hand, but…I must pursue this. She’s the ambassador’s guest and may return home soon.”

“You called me because you knew I’d say go for it.” Eugenie was three years younger but sometimes wise. “If you need a secret hideaway, my door is always open.”

I laughed. “Love you, Eugenie.”

“Lex, follow your heart not your Jolly Roger—as that English sailor called it.” The fridge door opened, closed again. “Remember that night in London? We escaped to the docks?” She sighed. “Wish you were here. I love you, too, and I miss you terribly. I even miss Papa, and he’s the pain in my arse.”

“Hey, Ginny and Eugenie sound almost alike.”

“That’s definitely justification to fly in the face of reason.”

“I feel better. Goodnight.” I stared at the snow-white pillows and folded down sheets.

“You were the one I always thought would escape.” She sighed. “Good night, brother-mine.”

So, after all, did freedom mean nothing left to lose? I had a lot to lose. How far was I willing to go for freedom? I’d never desert Desjardins like Eugenie. I plopped down on my back on the bed, staring into the dark apex of the canopy. Luckily, the question would never arise. He might protest, but my father denied me nothing.