When Nicky began to speak again, I held up one hand. “And I need some space, too. Just let me go. Anything you say to me right now is only going to piss me off more.” Turning, I headed for the steps, hesitating for just a moment before I stomped downstairs. “Just so I’m crystal clear, Nicky, I wasn’t trying to cause more work for anyone at the Palace or to insinuate myself into your engagement in Winchester. I wanted to be with you. I also have the sense that you’re still holding something back from me—that you’re keeping a secret. So yeah, I’m unhappy.”
Before he could respond, I stumbled down the steps, grabbed blindly for the hoodie that was draped over a chair near the front door and slammed out of the cottage.
MY EYES WERE SORE ANDthrobbing when I blinked them open on Friday morning. For a moment, I flashed back to my college days, reminded of the mornings after I’d overindulged at a party or while just hanging with my friends at our favorite local bar.
But all too soon, the reality of the present rushed back over me like a wave during a hurricane, and I pushed myself to sit up on the couch, wincing when the muscles in my back complained. The sofa where I’d slept was definitely vintage, something Nicky had liberated from his grandmother’s London home—his maternal grandmother, that was, the one whom I’d known when we were children. Not Her Majesty, whom I imagined didn’t make a habit of handing down shabby furniture to her grandchildren.
I hadn’t intended to sleep all night on the spine-breaking couch. When I’d come back from my walk around the Kensington Palace gardens, I hadn’t felt much better than I had when I’d set out. I definitely wasn’t ready to go upstairs and try to smooth things over with Nicky, whom I’d heard moving around in our bedroom. I’d assumed that he was packing, and thinking about that just made me angry all over again.
So instead of being mature and making the first move toward apology, I’d liberated a tub of mint chocolate chip ice cream from the freezer and sat down with a spoon. Half an hour later, I didn’t feel much better, but I was full and suddenly sleepy. I had planned to close my eyes for just a little bit, but I must have been a lot more tired than I’d thought, because it was morning already.
The empty ice cream carton was still on the coffee table with my spoon in it, I noticed. I wondered if I could surreptitiously dispose of the evidence of my pig-out before Nicky came downstairs.
Standing up, I moved stealthily into the kitchen, hissing when the old wooden floor squeaked just inside the doorway. I dropped the trash into the waste bin and carefully washed the spoon before replacing it in the silverware drawer.
The house was very still. I lingered in the kitchen for a few moments, waiting to see if I heard Nicky waking up. I couldn’t remember whether or not he’d told me what time he was leaving today, but it was still fairly early. Surely, he was still asleep.
But when the silence stretched on for over fifteen minutes, my curiosity and the knot in my stomach both got the better of me. I crept up the steps, my shoulders stiff with tension (and let’s face it, probably from sleeping on the sofa, too), and hovered outside our bedroom. The door was open, and I cocked my head, listening for the sound of Nicky’s normal even breaths.
There was no sound at all, only emptiness.
Frowning, I ventured closer, leaning into the room. The bed was empty, neatly made, as though no one had slept there at all. I glanced around, looking for some clue, even as my heart sank. I knew the truth. He’d left already, gone to do his duty, and he’d done so without so much as a word to me. There was no note on the pillow.
Feeling slightly nauseated, I sprinted back down the stairs and searched the kitchen and living room, just in case I’d missed something, anything, that my husband might have left for me. When I found my phone shoved into a crevice on the sofa, I checked texts to see if he’d contacted me that way. But there were no alerts, no notifications.
I dropped back onto the couch. I wanted to pretend this didn’t matter, that it meant nothing, but adrenaline was racing through my blood, and sobs were collecting in my chest. I knew it was ridiculous; after all, it wasn’t as though Nicky had stepped out for cigarettes and just not come home. I was fully aware of where he was and why, and the fact that he’d left wasn’t a surprise at all. Above all else, Nicky did his duty, and he would never do anything to let down his family. Of course, he was already on his way to Winchester.
But he’d left me. I was sitting here in our house, alone, with no note, no text and no chance of making up the harsh words we’d shared the night before.
I allowed myself an hour of sulking and brooding along with the luxury of a good cry. I didn’t often give in to the urge for tears, but right now, I decided that I was entitled. After all, I thought, I hadn’t really been the one at fault. Nicky had avoided telling me about his experience in Scotland with the protestors, and any wife would’ve been indignant about that omission. What made it worse, though, was my certainty that even once he’d copped to that one, he was still holding back. I just didn’t know what.
In the end, I couldn’t do anything about this situation while Nicky was away. I had to pull myself together and get on with life. Once he was back in London, we could deal with what had gone down last night.
After a quick shower and a cup of coffee, I decided that I needed to get out of the cottage. I wasn’t scheduled to go into the office today; otherwise, I’d have popped over to Honey Bee to catch up on work and maybe even get ahead. But maybe I wasn’t in the right frame of mind for paperwork and small-talk chats with co-workers. Maybe I needed some good old-fashioned chick time.
Grabbing my handbag, I shot a quick text to Harold, letting him know that I was leaving Kensington Palace and would meet him at my car. I dashed upstairs to twist my still-damp hair onto the back of my head and brush on a quick coat of mascara. I didn’t know what adventures I might get up to this afternoon with my favorite partner-in-crime, but I’d learned by hard experience to be as prepared as I could be.
Harold was leaning against the car, scanning something on the screen of his phone when I stepped outside. He glanced up at me as I approached him, but I noticed that he didn’t greet me with his typical broad smile.
“Good morning, Your Royal Highness.” Harold straightened, bowing slightly. “Where are we off to this afternoon?”
“Oh, I found myself with an unexpected free day,” I replied, attempting to keep my voice breezy. The last thing I wanted to do was give our security officer the impression that I was upset. That was how nasty rumors ended up in the press. “So I thought I might run over to visit with Princess Daisy. Surprise her with a girls’ afternoon.”
Harold frowned. “Ah, I’m sorry, ma’am, but Princess Daisy isn’t at home today. I’m sure she’d enjoy the visit. Perhaps another time.”
I had the odd sense that once again, I was being manipulated. First it had been by Nicky, with his half-answers and dodging, and now it was Harold, his bland expression telling me more than he realized.
“Daisy didn’t say anything about being busy today. She and I often have lunch on Fridays,” I pointed out. “Where is she?”
“At a house party in the country, I believe.” Harold’s swift response made me even more suspicious, although I was aware that part of his job was knowing the whereabouts of this very public family. All of the security officers were in contact, keeping each other apprised of our various activities and destinations.
“Okay.” Momentarily deflated, I twisted the handle on my handbag. “Well, I guess ... Alex and Jake are away, too, aren’t they?”
Harold nodded.
“Fine.” I heaved a long sigh. “Then I supposed I’ll go back inside. There’s got to be something I can do, right?”
“It’s a lovely day, ma’am.” Harold looked out over the wide expanse of grass that lay between my cottage and the gardens where I usually walked. “Quite nice for this time of year. You might even manage a picnic.”
