Princess Ever After (Royal Wedding Series) (22 page)

“Regina, please, we understand. Yes, we are under the gun, as you say, and we requested you come to Hessenberg as quickly as possible. But the EU court has not yet agreed to hear the case. You have a few extra days to ponder your future.”

“I’m not sure I can decide my future in a few extra days.” She stood stock still, trembling. “Politics and me . . . not so much.”

Nathaniel laughed. “I’m not sure any of us really love it.”

“Hold on there, Your Majesty.” Henry stepped forward. “Some of us find it quite rewarding.” He bowed toward Regina. “Miss Beswick, we will do all in our power to help you. You won’t be alone. But I find the best part of me, of life, often reveals itself when I’m faced with severe complications and trials and am forced to leave my own comforts.”

“Well, y’all shot my comforts to pieces. I’ve no grid for this. I wouldn’t even know where to begin to find normalcy or comfort.” She articulated her concern with passion. “I really appreciate that y’all will support me and I believe you . . . but, wow. I mean, maybe this EU court petition will end all of our questions, right? I won’t have to sign the entail, be the princess, and, you know . . . own a country.”

“Regina, let’s square away two things,” Nathaniel said. “You are the Princess of Hessenberg no matter what transpires with the court petition, which we believe will fail, as have all the
others. We’d like you to take the Oath of the Throne, set you in officially as the ruling princess with all full and legal rights. And yes, as the Grand Duchess you’ll own the land. In Hessenberg, the land is administered by the government.”

“What will the people say? I mean, I feel like I’m sneaking in behind their backs. Won’t they resent this foreign chick moving into the palace? ‘Hey, y’all, what’s up?’ ”

Regina’s exaggerated Southern accent made them all chuckle.

“Might I offer advice?” Dad said, tall and straight in his tailored suit and priest collar. Tanner cleared his throat and stepped aside as his dad faced Regina. “It’s not what man thinks or believes, Regina. Whether in Florida working on cars or in Hessenberg working from the royal palace, it’s what God believes. ‘As for me and my house,’ said the warrior Joshua, ‘we will serve the Lord.’ ”

Come on, Dad, save your sermon for Sunday. You’re making her nervous.
Would he ever understand how he intimidated people?

“That’s just it.” Her eyes glistened and emotion threaded her words. “I don’t know what God is saying.”

“Then keep seeking him, but do not fear the people. Fear the Lord. King Saul feared the people and ruined his reign and his name. But David, he—”

“Found strength in the Lord.”

Dad nodded. “Ah, you know the Scriptures.”

“Born and raised in a house of faith.”

Dad smiled. “Then trust the one you’ve heard about all those years, Regina. We are nearest to him when we are in the wilderness.”

“Ho boy.” Regina exhaled, giving Dad, the archbishop, a weak smile. “That’s what I’m afraid of, sir.”

“You have our support and prayers.” He took a card from his pocket. “If you need to, ring me. Anytime.”

Tanner turned his back, pressing his fist to his lips, containing a brutish response. Where was this kind of tenderness when he had required it?

From the back of the chapel, the door swung open and Seamus Fitzsimmons waltzed in with his chin high and his chest puffed out.

“You’re late,” Henry said. It wasn’t a secret that Brighton’s prime minister didn’t care for the Hessenberg governor, but he was an appointment by Nathaniel’s father, King Leopold, so Henry honored Seamus out of respect for the deceased king.

“Quite right, Henry, and my apologies to the king for being tardy.” He came around the last pew with an arrogant air that unsettled Tanner, then stopped in front of Regina. “You must be our American princess.” He bowed, clapping his heels together and offering his hand. “Governor Seamus Fitzsimmons, at your service.”

Tanner exhaled, hands on his hips, and pinched his words against his lips. Seamus mocked her with the exaggerated bow and heel clap. This was not his old mentor, the man who offered him a way out of his mess with Trude and coached him along. This was a man seized by the prospect of power.

“Nice to meet you.” Regina shook his hand, then withdrew, tucking her fingers into her hip pockets again. By now Tanner realized it was her go-to stance when she was nervous.

“Have you been informed?” Seamus postured and strutted, smoothing his mustache while retrieving his pipe—his handcrafted briarwood binky. “Nothing personal, Regina. You seem to be a sweet girl, but I must do what’s best for my country.”

“See here, Seamus,” Nathaniel said. “We’re not here—”

“Pardone, Your Majesty?” Seamus pulled a folded document from his breast pocket. “Miss Beswick, you may well know I’ve filed a petition for Hessenberg to be granted sovereign state status without, well, a sovereign. I’m most sincere when I say I do not believe a descendant of His Royal Highness, Prince Francis, Grand Duke of Hessenberg, is worthy of inheriting the kingdom. He was a coward and traitor. We should be able to forge ahead as a nation without Brighton and, my dear, without you.”

“For all that’s sacred, Seamus,” Henry said, “don’t put this on her now.”

“I’m afraid the entail has already done that for me.”

“You know as well as any of us, Prince Francis was trying to save a country ill prepared for war. Hessenberg had no military to speak of in 1914. If it weren’t for Francis’s foresight, Hessenberg might not have existed at all after the first war.”

“It’s one thing, Prime Minister, to find a solution to a war one is not prepared to fight, but it’s another thing entirely to surrender one nation to another without having a single shot fired or one drop of blood spilled.”

“I find that rather optimal, don’t you?” Henry removed his mask of cordiality, revealing his inner disdain for the governor.

“I find it treasonous. Francis refused the counsel of his lords, and when he signed over his lands and the government to King Nathaniel I, he signed over the lands of his lords. He betrayed us all.”

“Enough, Seamus.” Nathaniel reached for the document waving from the governor’s hand. “You’ve obviously come here to say something. Out with it.”

“Quite right, Your Majesty. I came here to enact
Vox Vocis Canonicus.”

Tanner made a face. “The authority canon?”

Henry moved around Dad to read the document Seamus handed Nathaniel. “Seamus, what are you plotting, my man?”

Tanner stepped closer to Regina, who seemed to be shrinking into herself by the moment. “Quite the show Seamus puts on, eh?” he said with a low laugh for her ears only.

“Why’s he doing this?” she asked, eyes wide, her heart in her words. “Plotting against me.”

“I’ve no doubt he’ll tell us.” Tanner tucked in a bit closer, enough for her to feel his warmth but not touch her.

Seamus’s aura darkened as he ended all pretense. “It’s all in
the document, but in summation, if this lass signs the entail, Hessenberg law reverts back to the constitution and laws held in this land in 1914. Our old constitution. Which contains an authority canon. After all, it’s what Francis wanted, wasn’t it? For Hessenberg to go back to her old ways and once again be a land of lords, of which his heir would reign supreme.”

“I see.” Henry tapped Seamus in the chest with his finger. “How do you plan to enact the lord’s authority canon? There are no lords in Hessenberg. Their houses have died out. Lands sold to the highest bidder.”

“Just as there is one descendant from the prince, there is one descendant from the House of Lords. I am that man. My great-grandfather was Patrick Fitzsimmons, Earl of Estes. The land was sold during the Great Depression before World War II. I think you’re familiar with Estes Estates, are you not, Tanner? Anyway, I am the great-grandson of the Earl of Estes.”

He shot Regina an exacting, slicing stare.

“If you are the legitimate heir of Prince Francis, then I, as the legitimate heir of the Earl of Estes, as well as the governor of Hessenberg, enact the authority canon and ask that you stand down as Hereditary Duchess due to your lack of leadership and experience, and your foreign birth. You’ve no right here. I will file a motion declaring you incompetent and inept on behalf of the Hessen people, and once Hessenberg is freed from Brighton, by the entail or the courts, I’ll have you charged as an enemy of the state if you remain on Hessenberg soil.”

Pandemonium erupted, everyone talking at once, as the men rushed forward in one accord.

“Enemy of the state? Now see here, Seamus—”

“What’s the meaning of this? You can’t stand here and accuse her . . . charging her as an enemy of the state.”

Tanner argued right alongside the king and prime minister. Even Dad brought up several good points. Their voices blended,
rising and falling in a medley of anger, determination, and reason.

A shrill whistle pierced the room. The men turned at once to see Regina standing on a pew, her fingers on her lips. She regarded each one while slowly lowering her arms.

“Let me get this straight. If I sign the entail, Seamus here will charge me as an unfit ruler. Got to tell you, I agree with you on that one. But an enemy of the state? Yet if I don’t sign the entail, then what? Hessenberg ceases to be a nation?”

“But the court will rule in our favor,” Seamus said, sure and pompous. “Granting us the right to become our own sovereign state without you, dear princess. Either way, as Prince Francis’s heir, you are an enemy of the state.”

The voices roared again. Seamus had lost his proper mind.

“Seamus,” Henry said, “you have no precedent for any of this.”

The tension among the men settled in Tanner’s gut, and he wondered how he had ever admired Seamus Fitzsimmons.

“Let’s just say I’ve gained a few allies myself. Germany is backing our petition in exchange for forgiving their debt to us . . . for seizing our bank accounts in 1914.”

“This is outlandish,” Henry said. “You cannot negotiate with Germany outside my authority. I’ll have
you
arrested for treason and insubordination.”

“I refer you to Brighton law PR-859—”

Tanner stepped back. This confrontation did not need him. He needed to get Regina out of here.

But when he turned to get her, the place where she’d stood was vacant, and the chapel door stood wide open.

SIXTEEN

R
eggie exploded out the door and into the pack of waiting press. The chilled air reached for her, and she longed for Tallahassee’s late September heat.

“Princess, over here.”

“What do you think of Hessenberg?”

“Are you really the great-granddaughter of Princess Alice?”

“Are you going to sign the entail?”

Cameras clicked and buzzed in her ears and her forward motion stopped when she sank into the mud of media.

“Please, let me go. Please.” She spun in one direction, then another. But she was surrounded by people with cameras and questions. A shove from behind crashed her into the Mercedes and she tried to open the back door, but it was locked.

“Pardon me.” She shoved forward and knocked one odious photographer into another. “Stand back.”

She worked her way around the back of the car and found Dickenson reaching for her, his eyes popping, his expression grim. “Your Majesty, I didn’t know you were coming.” He wrapped his arm about her shoulder, shielding her from the press.

“Dickenson, give me the keys.” She hovered by the driver’s side door.

“I–I can drive you, miss. Please, let me . . .” He reached around her to open the door. “I’ll unlock the back . . . Stand down, man, give the princess room.” Dickenson put his shoulder down and rammed a man twice his size in the chest.

“Dickenson, please.” Reggie raised her head long enough to look him in the eye. “Give me the keys.” She held up her palm.

“I–I . . . miss . . . please . . .” He sighed and dropped the keys in her palm. “Unlock the ignition with the key, then press the starter button on the panel.”

“Thank you.” She’d kiss him if she wasn’t in such a hurry to get out of Dodge. Oh poor, sweet Dickenson. He wore the most bamboozled expression.

In the driver’s seat, Reggie exhaled her anxiety and inhaled confidence. She knew nothing about being a royal or how to handle the media, but she sure as heck knew how to handle a car. The engine roared to life when she engaged the push button ignition. She gunned the gas as a warning to the photographers hovering about her window and the front of the car.

“Move, bubbas,” she muttered with another rev of the engine. “I’m going whether you’re standing there or not.”

She mashed the horn, giving it a good long blast, then shifted into gear and was about to take off when Tanner knocked on the passenger door window.

“Regina, let me in.”

“Stand back, Tanner.” She inched the car forward, motioning for the photographer aiming his camera through the windshield to
mooove
!

“Open the door.” He banged his fist against the glass, then raised up to peek over the hood. “Dickenson, how could you—”

His voice faded, lost in the rest of the crowd noise.