“Grumpy,” I finished for him. “That’s okay. I’m not taking it personally. And I’m honestly not trying to seduce you—not tonight, at least. Not unless you change your mind, that is. I’m just offering to snuggle up with you until you fall asleep. I think that’s what you need most right now—a decent night of sleep and me.”
His expression softened. “You’re right. Let me undress and shower, and I’ll join you in a few moments.”
Nicky strode into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. Watching him, I frowned. I understood the rigors of travel and how tiring meetings and public appearances were, but this was something ... more. There was an undercurrent of worry and tension in my husband’s face and voice that wasn’t usually there. And although we’d never kept secrets from each other, I had the uncanny sense that tonight, he wasn’t telling me everything.
Nicky was still sound asleep when I left for my office at Honey Bee Juices the next morning. He hadn’t stirred when my alarm went off, and his face was still buried in the pillow by the time I was showered, dressed and ready to leave.
I stood next to the bed, gazing down at him, watching his face as he slept. He was finally relaxed, his lips slightly parted and his hair tousled. He hadn’t shaved last night, and the scruff was thick on his jaw.
Kneeling, I brushed my lips over the soft whiskers on his cheek and then murmured into his ear.
“I’ll be home a little after lunch. If you want to wait for me in bed, I’ll be happy to climb back in with you then.”
“Mmmmm.” He stirred slightly. “Love you, babe.”
“I love you, too. Rest well.”
Outside the cottage, our police officer, Harold, was waiting for me, leaning against the side of my car. I greeted him with a smile as we both climbed into our respective seats for the drive to the office.
After Nicky and I were married, I’d half-expected to come under pressure from both the family and the Palace to stop working at my family’s company, Honey Bee Juices. But since Nicky was fairly well removed from the direct line of succession, no one had actually made that suggestion. In fact, Her Majesty always asked me about my job whenever I saw her and seemed to be interested in what I was doing.
At the same time, though, I’d made a commitment to undertake official engagements on the Royal calendar, just as Nicky and his sisters Alexandra and Daisy did. As the Queen grew older, she was slowly cutting down her own daily schedule, allowing her family to pick up the slack. There were enough of us that it wasn’t a terrible burden to any one member, but still, I had pared back my hours at Honey Bee to accommodate my new royal duties. I only went into the office two or three days a week, although I worked at home more often than that.
I’d met Harold, our security officer, on my very first visit to London, almost two years ago now. He’d always been kind to me, with the sort of deferential respect that made me feel safe around him, comfortable as we shared my daily routine on a regular basis.
After Nicky and I had announced our engagement, Harold had begun accompanying me to the office each day. Back then, he’d always taken the wheel, since I was still getting used to driving on what was to me the wrong side of the road and dealing with the extreme media attention. But nowadays, I drove us downtown while Harold rode shotgun. I still wasn’t a perfect driver, but I felt more comfortable with the British roads than I had before.
And the press? They were still following me around, but we’d fallen into a rhythm that I could handle. I did my smile and nod as I walked in, they took their pictures, and life went on.
Now, I glanced sideways at Harold as I turned out of Kensington Palace. “Any big weekend plans, Harold?”
He shifted in seat, his eyes never pausing as they scanned the street around us. “Ah, not really, ma’am. I’m on duty tomorrow and Saturday, and then on Sunday, when I’m off, I’ll likely go around to visit my mother.”
“Oh, careful there, Harold,” I teased. “Such wild behavior could put your job at risk.”
He laughed along with me, with the ease of a friend, even though both of us were well aware of the necessary distance between us. We could be friendly, but never friends. I knew I couldn’t confide in him, just as he didn’t share with me anything he shouldn’t. Harold often reminded me of the older brother I’d never had: he was protective of me, occasionally offered some sage advice, and basically shared little to nothing of his own life, even though we were together almost every day.
When we arrived at the tall building that housed Honey Bee, I slid my car into the spot that was reserved for me and shifted into park before I unbuckled my seatbelt and turned to Harold.
“I’ll be leaving just after lunch today. I’d like to be home by one.”
He gave me a brief nod and answered as he did every morning that we drove to work together. “If you’ll text me fifteen minutes before you leave, I’ll have the car here. Have a good day at work, ma’am.”
“Will do, Harold. You do the same.”
It was the identical exchange every day that I worked, and it revealed so much about the intricacies and oddities of being a modern royal. I maintained a façade of a non-royal’s life, in that I drove myself to the office. All of us who had jobs did that, so that we didn’t appear to be too different or entitled. But at the same time, we all drove with protection officers who removed our cars from where we’d left them once those same officers saw us safely into our offices. It wasn’t deemed safe for our automobiles to stay in a predictable space each day, because it left them vulnerable for interference, which was a euphemistic way of saying that a bad person could plant a bomb on or under them.
And the fact that Harold now called me ‘ma’am’ after a year of easy use of my first name was also telling. It had been all right for him to call me Kyra while I was only dating or engaged to a prince, but the moment I was married and took on the title of Duchess of Kendal, I could only ever be ‘ma’am’ or more formally, Your Royal Highness. It drove me nuts, but there were certain rules I was never going to change. I had to accept them or risk insanity.
We always exchanged good-byes and information about when I planned to go home here, in the relative privacy of the car. Once inside the building, after he’d inspected my office, Harold would take his leave, but there were too many listening ears in there to risk talking about anything that shouldn’t be overheard.
Once we got out of the car, Harold locked the doors and then stayed close by my elbow as we navigated the path to the front of my office building. The usual journalists were there, and by now I was used to their questions.
“Kyra, is it true you had a huge row with Princess Alex?”
“Your Royal Highness, would you address the rumors about your job situation?”
“Look here, Kyra! Is that a baby bump?”
