Chapter Five

PRESTI, COME ON ,” Astrid whined.

From the moment I’d rushed back to her side, colliding impressively with Harlan, Earl of Somewhere or Other, Astrid had begged me to divulge what had happened. She wanted to know what had sent me fleeing, red-faced and horribly mortified, from the presence of Prince James.

How could I tell her? What could I tell her? James’s sexuality wasn’t my secret to share. But I’d never kept anything from Astrid before. Even my only sexual encounter, which had ended in the unfortunate destruction of one-third of a two-hundred-year-old, historically listed home I had shared with Astrid. Every painfully humiliating minute, including my rescue—sans clothes—by a local fireman who also moonlighted as a weekend supervisor at the paper towel factory where I worked. I’d told her all.

Astrid knew everything about me. But I’d clammed up when she’d asked a second, third, and now fourth time what had happened with Prince James. My lips were sewn shut, so to speak.

Now, here we were, the morning after the night before and still she asked. And still, I remained resolute. I didn’t want to tell her that the most amazing experience I’d ever shared with a man was over. Happened and ended so quickly. Nor did I wish to admit I considered it a very good chance the best moment I’d ever have had come and gone. Over. Leaving me with nothing but a life of mediocrity to face. What or who could ever compare to the kiss I’d shared with James? There was a slim chance I was prone to dramatise things, but that kiss was amazing.

And Prince James… Well, I just couldn’t, with his wonderfully ginger-caramel hair, slightly scruffy beard, and those teal-green eyes that reminded me so much of a mix between forests and oceans. Dreamy.

“Was there some kind of curfuggle you became embroiled in? Right there in Her Majesty’s Wunderkammer. Tell me you didn’t break one of her clocks,” Astrid pressed. She leaned across the small balcony table we sat at, the London vista spread out before us bathed in the pinks and oranges of early morning light. Her cool fingers brushed my cheek. “Won’t you tell me, Presti?”

I wanted to share this burden with her, but how could I betray James? “There was something of a mess,” I stammered. “A small misunderstanding with Prince Arthur.”

“James’s father?”

“Mm. That’s the one.”

“He seems something of a curmudgeon. He didn’t shout at you for being in a part of the palace not meant for plebeian eyes, did he?”

I loved how Astrid sounded so ready to march back to the palace to defend me against the future king if he had yelled at me. “Oh, you wonderful creature. No, he didn’t yell at me. I simply felt awkward caught alone with James is all.”

Astrid raised a quizzical brow, dissatisfied with my answer, so I continued, “I went on a bit of a verbal rant. Just the usual.”

My dearest friend continued eyeing me rather disbelievingly, but she said, “Very well. I shall leave it at that for now, but when you’re ready to talk about it, I’m here.” Astrid stood and turned to go back through the balcony doors into our room.

She stopped with one foot already through the threshold. “I don’t know if this will help or not,” Astrid began, “but after you returned from the clock room, Prince James could not take his eyes off you.”

And then she left me, my mouth agape, strawberry jam-topped muffin in hand. But how could I eat after that unlikely proclamation? She had to have imagined the entire thing.

Several hours later, I found myself dragging my feet in utter exhaustion as Mum, Howard, Astrid, and I attempted to see all the sights of London that we could squeeze into a twenty-four-hour period. Technically, we had three more days here, but there was just so much to see.

“Those guards do look rather resplendent, do they not?” Astrid asked as we stood at the gates of the palace. It was hard to believe that less than twenty-four hours ago, we’d been behind these gates, inside the walls of Buckingham Palace, hobnobbing with no less than queens, future kings and noble folk of all kinds.

“They’re bearskin, dear,” my mother answered.

“Beg pardon?”

“Their hats. Black bearskins.”

Astrid stared at Mum and glared back at the guards, and I braced myself for what was to come. “Slaughterers,” she cried. “Have you no souls? These gentle creatures are our brothers and sisters, and you would wear their skins as a hat?” Astrid clutched the fence bars surrounding the palace, rattling them as she snarled at the guards.

“Astrid, dear,” my mother soothed. “I’m so sorry I’ve upset you.”

“You were merely the bearer of this grotesque news, Mrs Jones. One cannot go through life ignorant of such abominable circumstances.”

While I’m not sure I would have agreed with Astrid’s description of bears as gentle creatures, I concurred with her assessment of the situation. Humanity was a bottomless pit of cruelty towards the innocent creatures of our planet, to say nothing of what we did to each other.

Before I could utter a word, Astrid leapt on the bars of the palace fence, still rattling them—at least trying to—while hurling expletives toward the hapless, bearskin-festooned guards the whole time.

A crowd soon gathered, some quickly joining Astrid once they understood her protest. Mum and Howard stood nearby, smiling fondly at Astrid.

Just as I made to join my friend upon the battlefield, my phone rang. Without even looking at the screen, I answered, “Hello?”

“Presti?”

“Speaking. Who’s this?”

“James.”

“James?” I could hardly hear my caller with the spontaneous protesters shouting and ranting around me. Had they said James? Was it that James?

“James, Prince James.”

“Oh, that James,” I replied rather awkwardly. “For some reason, I didn’t expect royalty to make their own phone calls. Perhaps you had a personal… Well, I don’t know what that person would be called. Royal phone caller?” I mused.

“Um, no. I make my own calls, actually,” James replied.

“So it would seem.”

“May I ask where you are, Presti? Sounds awfully noisy there.”

I shifted awkwardly. Did I want to admit to James that I was outside his home, engaged in a rapidly expanding protest against his family’s guards? “Ah, about that—”

“Could you hold on a sec? There’s a bit of noise where I am too. Let me close my window.”

A few seconds later, James came back on the line. “Seems there’s a protest going on here at the palace. No doubt whoever they are will be hauled away shortly.”

“I see.” I gulped, took a deep breath, and continued, “Funny thing. I’m in the middle of something of a protest myself.”

“Really?” James asked.

“Mm. Astrid has started something, I’m afraid. She is rather good at riling people up for a good cause. Something of a talent.”

“What on earth is she protesting?”

“Bearskins.”

“Ah.” A stunned silence fell over us before James continued, “Um, Presti? You wouldn’t happen to be outside Buckingham Palace right now, would you?”

“Actually, yes,” I admitted. “Unfortunately, Mum chose a rather inopportune time to point out that the guards’ hats are bearskin. I’m afraid that doesn’t sit well with Astrid at all. Nor me for that matter,” I added, wanting to defend my friend and the bears simultaneously.

Soft chuckling tickled my ear as James said, “How wonderful you both are. I have been protesting that with Gran’s advisors and general hangers-on for years.”

“Really?”

“Nobody is remotely concerned with what upsets me, though.” James’s voice softened as he continued, “I’m thought of as something of an outcast. The press and my father have often said I’m trying to ruin the tradition of royalty.”

My insides pinched as I listened to this misunderstood prince. “I don’t believe that. I mean the part about you trying to ruin tradition. I think you’re just like the rest of us.”

Again, James’s quiet laughter bubbled over the phone. “Just like the rest of you, huh?”

“Well, of course. We all want the same thing. Acceptance. To live our lives as we choose, peacefully and happily.” Prince James may have money, travel the world, and live in palaces, but I didn’t envy him for his life.

“How did you get so wise at such a young age, Presti?”

“Well, I—put her down! Just what in the Sam Hill do you think you’re doing? Astrid! Astrid, for the love of everything, do not bite that man,” I screeched. Astrid’s protest had, unsurprisingly, devolved into chaos.

In the short time I’d spoken to James, the police had arrived and were trying to extricate Astrid from her firm grip on the palace fence bars. She, naturally, was snapping her teeth at them.

“Ah, Presti?” James’s tinny phone voice shouted at me. I raised my mobile back to my ear.

“James. I must away, as it were.”

“Tell me Astrid isn’t biting the palace guards.” Despite the topic, the prince’s voice quivered with amusement.

“Oh, no. Not at all,” I replied. “She’s trying to bite the police. Bobbies, I believe is the term. I must look up where that came from. Bobbies.” This would not be the first time Astrid and I became involved in an altercation with police during one of our protests. But we weren’t at home this time. Home was thousands of kilometres away, and I had no idea how British police handled protesters, especially ones protesting outside the home of their beloved queen.

“Well, that’s…better, I guess,” James stammered. “Ah, I know you have to go and all, but I did call for a reason.”

“Oh?” I asked, my curiosity piqued.

“Yes. I wondered, that is, I hoped you might join me for dinner this evening.”

“Dinner?”

“Dinner. Here at the palace. You and me. Alone.”

There was nothing for it. I was losing my mind. People like me did not get asked to dinner by princes. “Dinner,” I stammered stupidly. “And we’ll eat? Together.”

“That is usually how dinner works.” James laughed.

“But… but…” But what? I liked Prince James, and, goodness knows, he was possibly the most beautiful man I’d ever seen, but he was also a prince. Royalty. Men like me didn’t—

“Presti! What the devil are you doing? We have a protest to conduct, and you’re standing there lollygagging—wait, who are you talking to?”

“Miss, you need to come with us.”

“I will not. Presti! Get off that phone.” The rest of Astrid’s plea for my help came out muffled as a policewoman tackled her to the ground.

“Ah, James, I really must go, but I would, well, I would simply lovetohavedinnerwith you,” I blurted, running my words together before James could change his mind. “Get off her. This instant!”

I dove for my friend, unsure of my plan but knowing I could not allow this bobby to manhandle her—were female officers bobbies also? Like that mattered right now. My phone flew from my hand, landing…somewhere. I didn’t have time to worry that Prince James remained on the line. Would he listen to the cacophony as more police arrived, pulling at me as I wrestled one of their own off Astrid?

Astrid continued shouting, “Save the bears.” A chorus of voices joining her from the crowd amassed around us. From my position, flat on my back, one bobby on my legs while another all but sat on my chest, I saw my mother swat at more officers with her handbag.

It seemed we’d started something of an all-in brawl. The hiss and whirr of camera shutters warned me we would likely end up on YouTube. Maybe even the news. Prince James, I was confident, would not appreciate that at all.

There went my dinner date , I lamented while trying to dislodge the bulk of an officer from my chest. As much as I liked James, I was pretty sure the poor bears were more important—I didn’t think he was in immediate danger of being made into a hat. How much could I possibly mean to James anyway? We’d spent a few hours together. Chances were phenomenally high that he would forget he’d ever met Prestidigitation Jones in a matter of days.

And why did that thought provoke a slight ache in my chest?

“Presti,” my mother called. “Oh, do get off him. Presti? Are you all right? I said get off him. He’s only a wee little lad.” She glared at the bobby sitting astride me.

Cringing at my mother’s unfortunate turn of phrase in describing me, I continued my struggle. Astrid roared at my side, bellowing her chant but mixing in a few expletives directed toward law enforcement.

As the chaos rattled toward its inevitable peak, all about me suddenly fell quiet, a hush settling amongst what had seconds ago been a fiery protest. For a moment, I pondered whether one of the police officers had drawn a weapon. But the atmosphere felt unthreatening. More awed than hostile.

Low murmurs drifted on the cool, crisp air. I’d been warned London would be freezing this time of year, but an unseasonal warmth kept temperatures in the mid-teens. Cold, but hardly freezing.

Try as I might, I couldn’t quite make out the words people whispered around me.

Suddenly, the weight pressing on my chest eased as the bobby struggled to his feet. I watched as his skin paled and his eyes boggled. Then he bowed low. “Your Royal Highness,” he mumbled.

Royal Highness? Surely not.

“May I ask what is going on here?” James’s voice, low and threatening, sent a spike of yearning straight up my spine. What the devil was he doing here?

“Arresting some protesters, Your Highness.”

James glanced down at me. And winked. It was entirely unfair that he appeared so devastatingly handsome and put-together while I lay flat on my back, sprawled like a sack of potatoes. And then he had the audacity to wink at me so relaxed and calmly while I sweated bullets of nerves.

“They’re protesting… Well, about bears, I think.” The poor bobby looked thoroughly flummoxed. I guess when the poor fellow awoke this morning, he hadn’t expected his day to go quite along these lines.

“Bears? Hmm.” James favoured me with a second wink and then reached a hand down to me.

Without a thought, I took it and allowed the prince of England to haul me to my feet. As I glanced around, my cheeks pinkening as all eyes settled on me, I noticed Astrid smiling rather proudly at me. My mother and Howard stood at her side, the three watching me with smugness and surprise.

“You know,” James said, his gaze fixed on me but clearly addressing the crowd, my hand still wrapped firmly in his. “It is quite a barbaric practice, this making our guards’ hats out of bearskin. The queen and I have spoken about this several times and intend to take action.”

A loud cheer rose from the crowd. I had no idea if it was true, but the crowd loved James for it. And I knew it was what he wanted. Putting aside his moral fortitude in standing up for what was right, he looked positively dashing doing it. Of course, my mature side was far more impressed with his actions. But, oh hell, I could not deny how gorgeous he looked with the midday sun highlighting the copper flecks in his hair, the light illuminating his teal irises, so they looked something like the calm waters of the Aegean—at least pictures I’d seen of it. I found Prince James irresistibly enchanting.

“What are you doing, James?” I whispered, finally wriggling my fingers free from his.

“I believe,” he began, his lovely mouth upturned in a mischievous grin, “I am being chivalrous. Coming to the rescue and all that.”

Heat burned beneath my skin, flushing my face all shades of red. This man may well be the death of me.

Before I could wrestle a reply from my mouth, Astrid threw herself at the prince, squeezing her arms so tightly about him that I feared he could scarcely breathe. “You wonderful man. If only all royalty were as noble.” Astrid beamed.

“Astrid, dear,” my mother cut in, “I think you’re making Prince James’s poor bodyguards very nervous.”

Only then did I notice the two large men fidgeting tensely, hands twitching around the area where I suspected they had their weapons secreted. How close were we to a regrettable incident? The taller of the two men seemed only seconds from drawing a gun and shooting my friend.

“I think Mother might be on to something, Astrid. Might I suggest backing slowly away from the royal personage,” I murmured, afraid any loud noise might ignite the spark.

Prince James laughed. Easy enough for him, I suppose; it wasn’t his head in the firing line. “It’s quite all right. Billy and Gordon are under strict orders not to pull their weapons today.”

“Good to know,” Howard replied as he handed me my phone.

“Presti?” James asked when Astrid finally released her grip upon him. “Are you okay?”

“Well, it’s a lot…all this, I mean,” I exclaimed, waving my arms about quite maniacally. “One doesn’t encounter situations like this in Kincumber.”

“Wonderfully odd name that, Kincumber,” James replied.

“Huh,” I huffed. “I hardly think you can comment on our place names when you have a village here in England called Blubberhouses.”

James stared a moment before bursting into laughter. “We do? I had no idea. Blubberhouses,” he snorted. “You are extraordinary, Presti.”

Over the years, I’d learned when I was being laughed at. This was not one of those times. Prince James of England found me extraordinary. I didn’t know what to do with that.