Chapter 21

May 3rd - Confession is Good for the Soul Ginny had known this day would come. The question was merely where and when.

For some time, Chrissy had continued to treat her like the invisible man, and she’d stopped expecting another attack. The threatening calls had stopped the day the press broke the news. But now, she had far more to worry about. At eleven o’clock this morning, Lex was to face the Minister, representative of the people’s government, and the full King’s Council.

A war council—but the Heir Apparent was the enemy.

Apprehension followed her into the shower. As the soft spray of water spilled over her, anxiety zinged along her nerves. The rainfall shower was a new addition that she really liked. After lathering with a fragrant oriental cherry gel, she shampooed her hair with coconut shampoo. Feeling somewhat fortified, she dressed and hurried downstairs to grab coffee and a granola bar. She glanced at her phone. Only eight-thirty and already she’d lived a lifetime. The sun had just cleared the horizon when she’d woken up crying in her sleep.

Three steps from the bottom, Ginny halted abruptly and cringed. Chrissy mounted the first step. Lately, she gave Ginny a wide berth, taking the other side of the staircase. Not today. She halted, waving a newspaper rolled into a wand. Ginny’s empty stomach lurched. Damn, she hated to face her worst adversary this morning of all mornings.

“Well, if it isn’t Princess Ginny, the Baby Killer,” the blonde bitch sneered.

Ginny took the barbed words in the heart. “Please, Chrissy, you know what happened. You were there. You know I didn’t have an abortion. You could come forward and tell them—”

“I wasn’t in the operating room. Now, was I?”

Too stunned to speak, Ginny gaped at Chrissy. When she’d learned, there’d be no baby and that she’d have to have the procedure, Chrissy had stood with her on the Seawall, staring out at the Atlantic. She’d even dried Ginny’s tears. Her now ex-friend had driven her to and from the hospital for the DNC, but they’d kept it all secret. At the time, she’d been distraught, not thinking clearly partially because of the hormone fluctuations her doctor had explained. No one else had known she was pregnant, not because she was ashamed, but she was afraid her parents, who’d taken Mike’s side in the divorce, might use it to try to halt the proceedings.

Ginny rubbed her throbbing temples. She simply couldn’t think of this now. She’d been so hurt when she thought Lex hadn’t believed her. The remembered pain and today’s pain mingled, nausea swirling in her stomach. All those feelings lumped in her throat, choking her. “I can’t talk about this right now, Chrissy. Please.”

The other woman laughed. “You don’t look very happy for a Princess. I told In—” she broke off. Her ivory skin went a lighter shade of pale.

“What?” Ginny gripped the railing as her head spun and her knees washed weak. “You told who what?”

Chrissy’s gaze slid to the floor. She hesitated a fraction of a second too long for the lie to be believable. “I was just going to say I told you so.”

“That’s not what you were going to say.” Ginny advanced a step.

Chrissy tilted a defiant chin and stood her ground. “You’re under too much stress, Princess. You need a vacation. I hear Charleston is nice this time of year.” She snapped her fingers. “Oh, that’s right, there’s nowhere in the world you can go to hide from the news.”

Ginny froze. “I’ve heard that before. Not in the same words, but…”

“Did Lex tell you to take a vacation? Well, I’d listen. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Your Highness,” she advanced up the stairs, “I need to get dressed. I have a lunch date with a handsome guardsman in the Household Guard.”

Ginny stiffened. Had Chrissy somehow managed to wriggle her way into Lex’s circle of friends? She knew the blonde was fully capable. “His name isn’t Peter, is it?”

“Peter is in the Royal Horse.” Chrissy looked as if she’d like to slap her own face. Her dark eyes stood out prominently in her paper-white face. “Ginny MacDonald, you—you—” she struggled for a word, settled for, “Bitch.”

That one word, which could be applied to Chrissy or the woman in the threatening calls, had clicked a memory into place. She whirled, bounding up the stairs she’d descended only minutes ago.

Chrissy called after her, “Are you leaving us now that you’re a princess?”

Five minutes ago, the blonde’s cruelty would have wounded Ginny. As she raced down the hall toward her room, Ginny was beyond her barbs. She thought she knew to whom Chrissy had been funneling information. On a mission, she burst into her room and grabbed her phone from the bedside table. Her fingers flew over the screen, searching through her files by date.

“This one,” she muttered.

A woman’s cultured voice oozed from the speaker. “There’s nowhere in the world you can run to hide from me, little Ginny MacDonald. I’ll haunt your every step. Did you hear? You don’t seem to have heard the first time I called. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. Give him up. Or I’ll destroy you. I vow it. I’ll cause you pain.”

The door creaked open, and Chrissy slithered over the threshold. She froze a step inside. “Who’re you talking to? I heard voices.”

“How long have you and Ingrid been planning Lex’s downfall? How much of this did you orchestrate, Chrissy?” Ginny glanced down at her phone, her heart racing. “You don’t know that in ten minutes, he’s planning to renounce his throne. You can blame yourself, Chrissy. Wait ‘til your daddy hears what his little girl is truly capable of.”

She had to get to Lex before that eleven o’clock meeting. “Siri, call mon beau. Chrissy, you’d better pray it’s not too late.”

Slowly, her ex-friend’s face crumbled. As she dissolved into tears, she threw herself across the room, landing on the bed beside Ginny and knocking the phone from her hand. On its way to the floor, it began to ring.

“Chrissy, get off me.” She battled as the other girl tried to fling her arms around her neck. “I have to get to Lex before his eleven o’clock meeting.”

“I’m so sorry, Ginny. I wouldn’t have done it, but Ingrid swore she’d tell Dad how horrible I’d been to you. You know I love my daddy. I couldn’t have him thinking I was a bitch—”

“Shut up.” She held the phone to her ear as it went to voicemail.

***

Alexander’s POV

Off the Richter Scale - A Prince’s Royal Chambers In the inner chamber, I heard my phone ring. I have might asked my Papa if I could answer, but now I faced the King. In a few short hours, I would stand before the Minister, members of government, and his Royal Council to present my final case, and I still didn’t have any concrete proof.

“If you hope I’ll change my mind, I won’t. Everyone must be aware of my intentions.” I glanced at the noise disturbing the early morning. “I’ll go onto the balcony and greet the people.”

The King looked older than he had a few short days ago, more silver threads in his hair and wrinkles at eyes and mouth. He raised a warning hand. “Don’t even hint about your intentions. The world is in such a state of upheaval. Such a home of extremes. A great deal of the fallout has missed Desjardins, but this crisis has thrown us into the same sort of political chaos threatening the rest of the world.”

“I won’t do either, mention my resolution or renounce the throne until I must.” I’d dressed hurriedly in black trousers and a crisp white shirt.

“Are you adding a tie?” He smiled, gesturing at my open collar.

I smiled back. “What would Eugenie do?”

He closed his eyes, shaking his head. “Perish the thought. She’d wear an orange and purple minidress out to greet the people. Please, son, add a tie.”

“Would you knot this for me, please?” I whipped a red silk tie from the bed. “I’ve never been good with Windsor knots.”

“It’s a good thing you’re a Prince.” He looped and snugged the tie beneath my chin.

“If I weren’t, there’d be no need for a tie at nine in the morning. Wait.” I stopped halfway to the quadruple doors opening onto the balcony. “You didn’t want me to plead my case to the people.”

He waved a gesture, giving me royal permission.

As I stepped into the morning sunlight, cheers rose from the milling throng. My name carried on the blanket of noise. It was a good feeling knowing all those people had come to support Ginny and me. After my eyes adjusted to the brilliance. I strode to the balustrade and lifted a hand for silence.

“You know the reason I’m standing here today, facing you, my people, and hoping you do not judge me harshly. My personal life has resulted in sensational newspaper headlines around the world and a storm of controversy.

“I’m not here to apologize for being in love. Rather I would tell you that I intend to marry Ginny MacDonald and will not be swayed. You’ve always treated me with the greatest kindness. I hope you’ll understand my dilemma. Many forces oppose my marriage. It is my dearest wish that you do not oppose me as well.

“Let no one tell you that I love Ginny more than the throne.” I wanted them to know her by something less formal than Miss MacDonald. “You are my people. It is my greatest desire to one day speak to you as your King. I’ll leave you with that assurance and bid you all a good afternoon.”

As I’d done hundreds of times, I turned to go, but this time my feet dragged. Halfway to the door, as I’d done many, many times, I turned back and gave my people a respectful nod instead of the royal wave. The applause was deafening. Before I disappeared into the palace, the crowd had picked up a chant, “Alexander and Ginny.” Hearing her name on that many voices humbled me. No one would see the tears burning my eyes. I closed the door behind me. Was I surprised my father had waited?

“So, you’ve put it to the popular vote,” he said, laying aside the morning paper. He sounded beyond weary.

I shook my head. “I’m resigned.”

“To renounce the throne?” He shot to his feet, spilling the newspaper to the floor, and grasped my shoulder as if he planned to shake me. “Son, I won’t let you do this.”

“Then allow me to marry Ginny.” I held the King’s gaze, braving his determination.

“You know I can’t.” He scrubbed a hand over his eyes. “As much as I personally like the girl, she cannot be queen. In the eyes of the church, she is a murderer.”

“She’s innocent.” The denial burst from me. Too loud.

“In this case—and I’m sorry. I truly like Ginny—she’s guilty until proven innocent.”

I lifted a hand for some reason, forgot why, let it fall. “The media have tried her without any real evidence. Has anyone talked to her doctor? She’s been found her guilty and punished for something she did not do.”

“Have you seen the medical records?”

“Not yet. They’re lost. They will be found.” Did I believe?

He arched his brows. Sometimes, looking at my father was like looking at an older version of myself, but today we were in different dimensions.

“I trust her,” but unbidden, doubt crept like a secret into my mind. “You’ll see. She’s telling the truth.” I heaved a heavy sigh. In the past four days, I’d sighed more than in a lifetime. “Please, I don’t want to talk about my marriage to Ginny anymore. I have my speech. I have my own canons to uphold. I think, Sire, we are at an impasse.”

“You cannot renounce your right to the throne. Alexander, you are firstborn. We are a primogeniture state. We shall be obliged to change the law for Eugenie to succeed you.” He gripped my arm. “I forbid you. What of your country?”

“You’re well and hearty. When the time comes, the people who are forcing me to renounce the throne can change the law.” I tucked a wayward strand of hair behind my ear. “Eugenie will make a good queen. I really believe she will.”

“She’d throw everything into the air like a deck of cards.”

“But she’d catch them as they fell.” I shrugged. “She might rearrange them a bit.”

He laughed. “She’ll be home more I expect. She’s renewed her acquaintance with the young guardsman. Perhaps, you remember his name. But that’s neither here nor there.”

“Xavier has never been married and is a member of the church. I’m sure he’s never had an abortion, but then neither has Ginny.” I extended my hands, palms up. “I think if we ask the King’s Council, he’s suitable to be king. However, if you ask me, I’d rather see a clown on the throne.”

He tossed me a dark look and flung up his hands. “You’re being immature, son.”

“I’m taking a stand on the most important decision of my life. I’m being forced to give up my claim to the throne. It’s not my wish to do so any more than it is yours.” I halted in front of him, his blue eyes drilling into mine. “The meeting is in less than an hour.”

“You need to prepare. I understand. Go.” He gestured, the Desjardins Ring of State flashing. “I must do the same.”

Each of us were, from his own perspective, only doing what he had to do. That understanding passed eye-to-eye. He watched me walking away. At the door to my inner chamber, I glanced over my shoulder. He stood where I’d left him, shaking his head. His sad expression belonged to my Papa, not to the part of him that was King.

At last, I’d spoken to my people, but too late to have any bearing on today’s fatal meeting. On my desk were the renunciation notices. With a heavy heart I picked them up, looked at them long and hard, then laid them down. I scooped my phone and keys from a stack of correspondence to be mailed.

“I won’t need this.” With a touch of melodrama, I said, “A man on trial for his life doesn’t need his mobile.”

In my hand, the phone rang, startling me. I flinched, glanced at the screen. Mon Amour.

“Yes, love, I can only talk for a moment. The meeting starts very soon. I finally was allowed to present our case to the people—”

“Lex, where are you?” she asked breathlessly.

I’d never heard Mon Bebe this upset. It sounded as if she were crying.

“In my office in my chambers.” I frowned. Strange, almost like someone else crying... “The King just left and—”

“Catch him,” she gasped. “I’m on my way.”

There were sounds of a short struggle. “Come on. Yes, you are going. Yes, you can go with your mascara smeared. Your jogging suit isn’t an issue when a man’s life is at stake.

“Ginny, where are you?” I was becoming concerned. “What’s happening? Who’s with you?”

“At the Parsonage. I can be there in ten minutes top. Get your butt in gear,” she scolded her unknown companion. Back into the phone, she spoke rapidly, “You must tell The King I’m innocent, and I have proof. Shush,” she said aside. “Grab the keys to the Audi.”

“The medical records were delivered,” I breathed. Relief sharp as pain swept through me. I lurched to my feet, racing across the room. “Thank God for that.”

“The medical records didn’t arrive yet, but I have a witness.” Aside to her mystery companion. “Get in.” Back to me. “Hold the meeting somehow. Tell them I’m having a baby. I don’t care. We’re in the car.”

“I’d laugh,” I was frowning, “but you haven’t told me what’s going on, or who’s with you?” On faith alone, a puzzled Jack skidded into the corridor to try to catch a King.

“Chrissy was in this with Ingrid all the time. Okay, okay, I’ll tell him.” A horn blared in the background. “Go to hell, so I pulled out in front of you.” Then back into the phone, “They’re responsible for spreading the abortion nonsense. Chrissy was with me the day I miscarried. She drove me to the procedure and waited in the waiting room. I’d signed the proper paperwork, and the doctor talked to her afterwards. The American ambassador’s daughter can testify it was—I thought I’d never say this—only a DNC. Where’s the King now?”

“The King will turn a corner in about ten feet. What happened to change Chrissy’s mind?” Ignoring propriety, I shouted, “Father, I have proof there was no abortion. A witness.”

He halted, stood motionless for too long, then turned slowly. When he faced me, I still could not read his body language. “You have a witness?”

“I’d recorded the threatening calls,” Ginny said.

I had his attention now! Excitement mingled with a new fear.

“What threatening phone calls?” I’d never been told that she’d been threatened.

“I’ll tell you all about it when I get there,” she said.

My thundering heart pumped hope through my veins. I continued my forward campaign, slowing to a decorous jog instead of blasting down the hallway toward the King. “I have Ginny on the phone. She can tell you. She and Chrissy are on their way to the palace as we speak. They’ll appear at the meeting and tell the old—our honorable government the truth. The medical records should arrive soon to substantiate their testimony.”

His expression, wary, hesitant belief, underwent a complete change. A smile broke across his face. “Chrissy, the ambassador’s daughter?” He threw back his head and laughed. In a totally unkinglike move, he punched the air. “I always knew this love story would have a happy ending.”

Smiling, as Ginny had once said from ear-to-ear, I slid to a stop in front of my father. On impulse, because I was elated and giddy as a yearling colt, I threw my arms around his neck and hugged him. He clapped me on the back.

When I released him, Papa held both of my arms. “Thank God, son, we’ve won.”

“Is winning what’s important to you?” My smile faded.

He gave me a little shake. “As long as it means you won’t renounce the throne. This calls for a celebration, as they say in the movies, and I feel quite theatrical.”

“Lex, Lex,” Ginny called as she and Chrissy, led by the erstwhile Marcus, who was also smiling ear-to-ear, sped around the turn into the corridor leading to my chambers. “We’re ready. Let’s go tell the government a true story.”

Ginny, without makeup, in the jeans and sweatshirt she’d worn last night, and Chrissy in a neon-pink jogging suit, would soon face our honorable government. I thought they both looked runway perfect! But Papa looked appalled. He in his kingly navy-blue suit, and I in my princely black, which I’d thought befitted my funeral, watched them from different dimensions again.

“Smile,” I whispered aside to him behind my hand, “It’s time for a bit of fresh air in Desjardins, and here it comes.”

He gripped my arm. “Perhaps, you’re right, son. You’ve been right all along.”

I gave Ginny a quick hug. “You’re amazing. I didn’t know you were an amateur sleuth. You must tell all after this meeting.” I offered her my elbow. “Shall we?”

Smiling radiantly, she laid her hand on my arm. I turned to our witness, offering her the other elbow. “Chrissy, I’ve never been happier to see anyone in my life. As the King said, this calls for a celebration, and I’m buying.”

“I’ll buy.” The King glanced at his watch. “I’ve never been five minutes late for a meeting before. It’s good day for another first. “Let’s go open the windows on a new day.””

Three abreast—Chrissy, Ginny, and I—followed the King of Desjardins toward what I hoped signaled a new day in Desjardins. Suddenly it occurred to me that there was another urgent matter to address.

“Pardon, I need to speak with the King.” I trotted ahead, catching my father’s arm. “We need to do something about Ingrid. It’ll take a long time for Ginny to recover from that Harpy’s slander. May I contact her and threaten her with banishment for five years from Desjardins. Her other option is to come forward and issue a public statement, in papers and magazines, that the abortion was concocted. If she makes the statement to one high profile newspaper, the others will pick it up.”

“Harpy is a perfect description of Ingrid. A rapacious monster with the body of a bird of prey. You have my permission, and I’m quite willing to banish the woman if you give me the word. I phoned ahead, and they’re aware we’ll be a few minutes late.”

I smiled, shaking my head. “You can set your clock by the King. In fact, Papa, I think I’ll call Ingrid on the way. I then have an excuse for a hasty instead of rude exit from the conversation.”

“Son, I know you’re eager to give Ingrid her comeuppance yourself, but wouldn’t the threat bear more weight if I called her? I’ll be more than happy to do so. In fact, I’m probably as eager as you are. When I threaten banishment…”

“She has no choice but to believe. That’s the perfect answer. Do you have time to ring the her when we return from the meeting?”

“Ever the patient young man.” He laughed. “I don’t know from whom you inherited impatience.”

We happened to be passing a gold mirror. I halted him, pointing at his reflection. “He resembles that chap.”

The others caught up, and we followed one step behind the King of Desjardins to a historic meeting of the leaders of the nation.

***

Ginny’s POV

Retribution After the meeting, a triumphant three of the four who attended returned to the King’s office. One player was missing. Chrissy was delivered to the Parsonage in a black limo to repair her makeup and change from her scarred battle armor. Ginny knew the real reason she’d fled. Chrissy didn’t want to be present when her partner in crime met retribution.

The mobile number Lex had for Ingrid still worked. In the reception area, the King had handed a sticky note to his assistant. “Angela will place the call. Ginny, Lex, please sit.”

Lex remained standing. “Actually, I’ve been thinking. Perhaps, banishment isn’t the right answer. Ingrid would suffer more if she were in Desjardins often, the more often the better because each time she sees Ginny on the balcony, it will be a blow. When she sees her ride by in a carriage in a parade, or at the National Steeplechase, she’ll suffer. At a state affair wearing her tiara, she’ll die of envy. I’ll make the call and remind her forcefully that Ginny has a clear-cut cause of action for slander, maybe libel as well. I’ll ask her to recant.”

“Honey attracts more bees than vinegar.” Ginny nodded slowly, smiling. “If Chrissy were to inform the right media person, and the story of Ingrid’s treachery went viral, she’d never be invited into society’s drawing rooms again.”

“And that’s Ingrid’s life’s blood. Since we split, she’s been riding on that story to keep her going. She wouldn’t be where she most wants to be, and her actions will have put her there.”

“I agree,” the King said. “I don’t worry about leaving Desjardins in your hands. What a king and queen you’ll make. Now as soon as we make that call, we can make wedding plans.”

“You know, I’ve always wondered if a wedding planner gets married in blue jeans,” Ginny said, and her royal companions chuckled. She tensed when Lex picked up his cell.

“Into the breach once more, dear friends…” He frowned when Ingrid purred, “Hello, Lex, how have you been? Long time.”

“I’m more than fine, Ingrid. Sit down. I don’t think you can take this standing up.” His royal voice was ice-cold. The words grew terse, crisp, clearly conveying his displeasure and distaste. “It’s over. Chrissy addressed heads of this government today, and we know you’re behind the media’s attack on Ginny. She was hurt, and for that I’ll never forgive you—”

“But Lex, that’s not true. Chrissy—”

“You pulled Chrissy into this circus, Ingrid. She came willingly, but the entire scheme was yours. You used her jealousy to pyramid on your own. Ginny has an excellent case against you for slander, but she’s willing not to pursue it if you’ll make a public statement to the press acknowledging that you are the author of this lie. I’ll add to that that you apologize.”

She huffed a bitter laugh, and Ginny imagined her tossing her long hair. “I will not.”

“Then we’ll disclose the lie, and you’ll still lose your place in society.” He turned to smile at Ginny. “I’d advise you to pack your bikini. You may well be asked to leave Madam Franks’ yacht.”

“That’s Madam Frankiens, and she would never ask me to leave.”

“Round and round the world Ingrid goes, and where she stops no one knows.” He offered a brittle laugh. “Nor does anyone care.”