A March Bride (7 page)

“
Is that the core of this issue? That you don
’
t feel worthy? Susanna, you
’
ve seen me at my worst. You
’
ve seen my life. How can you question your value to me? I love you, Georgia girl.
”

“
But don
’
t you wonder? How can we make it? Marriage is hard enough without mixing cultures and nationalities, not to mention social classes.
”

“
This? From an American? Your great melting pot nation was built on cultures and nationalities mixing. On tearing down the walls between social classes.
”
He sighed and pressed his hand to his forehead.
“
Susanna, I
’
m beginning to think you really don
’
t want to marry me. All these excuses—
”

She set her water bottle down and crossed to the window.
“
I just feel homesick, like I
’
ll never be myself again. I feel lost in the swirl of you, of the royal family, of the wedding. It
’
s more about you and Brighton than you and me. Every other day I hear a story about how the people are afraid of my influence. How I
’
ll turn you into an American.
”
She raised the windowpane, ushering in a fresh, cold blast that shoved aside the stale, tepid air in the room.
“
I guess that
’
s what the writ is about, huh?
”

“
How long have you been feeling this way?
”

She shrugged.
“
I
’
m not sure I knew until now.
”

Her confession of doubt opened door after door of fear, uncertainty, and dread. What if she gave up everything, even her citizenship, and the marriage failed?

“
For now, please, I need to go home. Go back to ground zero, get my bearings, and sort out what I
’
m feeling.
”

“
All right.
”
His heavy exhale revealed his hurt.
“
But you fly on
Royal Air Force One
.
”
Nathaniel reached for his jacket and headed for the door.
“
Just tell me you
’
re coming back, Susanna.
”
He paused at the door, his blue eyes wet and shining.

“
I think so.
”
She twisted the antique diamond ring around her finger.
“
But I don
’
t know.
”

Nathaniel regarded her for a moment and opened the door.
“
I
’
ll have Jonathan make the arrangements.
”

Susanna knew Jonathan, Nathaniel
’
s aide and friend, would call within the hour to discuss details, searching for details that went beyond a proposed departure time and which Georgia airport she preferred. He
’
d want to know what was going on. All without asking outright.

“
Nathaniel,
”
she said with almost no volume.
“
Thank you.
”

“
Thank you?
”
He shook his head.
“
I already regret agreeing to this.
”

The sound of the door slamming as he took his leave echoed in Susanna
’
s heart the rest of the night.

O
n
Monday afternoon Nathaniel muddled through his daily routine of scheduling and correspondence.

In truth, he thought of nothing but Susanna. His mood drifted toward an ever-widening, swirling black hole of fear. At any moment, he might collapse within himself, never to be seen again.

Like the time he leapt foolishly into the murky, cold waters of Roose Lake his frosh year at university. He sank beneath a quagmire of roots and weeds and barely found his way to the surface. His lungs nearly burst for want of air.

She
’
d been gone three days, and try as he might, he couldn
’
t clear himself of the blasted, dark foreboding creeping through every molecule of his body:
She
’
s not coming back.

But she must. She simply must. However, the velvet pouch in his pocket warned him otherwise.

Rollins, the Parrsons House butler, had found Susanna
’
s engagement ring on her dressing table the morning of her departure for home.

When he brought it to Nathaniel, his heart nearly stopped. Was she actually planning to stay in America?

Settle, mate.

Susanna had also left behind her favorite shoes, the gold Louboutins she wore to his coronation ball. And pictures. All of her family photos remained in her suite parlor and her bedchamber.

Surely she would return to Brighton. He inhaled long and slow. And she
’
d reclaim her ring.

Yet he could not deny her arguments about royal life. It was not easy. Susanna
was
giving up everything to marry him. Was he worth it?

Since the day she arrived in Brighton as the king
’
s fiancée, the media immersed her into her own murky waters of scrutiny, nitpicking, and faultfinding.

Anything to sell papers or draw in viewers. All three Brighton news outlets sent crews snooping around St. Simons Island, searching for the underbelly of Susanna
’
s American life and family.

One talk show tabloid spent a week, a
whole week
, on her relationship and breakup with the American Marine hero Adam Peters. Only half of the story
’
s details were even partially true.

But despite the downsides of being associated with Nathaniel, Susanna was setting the world on fire. All on her own.

A billion viewers were estimated for their wedding. News
outlets who
’
d all but forgotten about Brighton royalty battled the King
’
s Office royal red tape for permits to send broadcast crews for the wedding.

Once Susanna mentioned in an interview that she loved the Scripture,
“
The joy of the Lord is your strength,
”
every bookshop on the island promptly sold out of their Bibles. News presenters read Nehemiah 8:10 on air, and a children
’
s choir performed a song based on the verse.

Her very presence boosted Brighton
’
s economy. The fashion designers merely mentioned a frock they
’
d designed for her and online orders crashed their servers. Tourism was up last quarter by 5 percent.

“
Knock, knock.
”
Nathaniel
’
s brother stuck his head inside the office doorway.

“
Stephen, what brings you round this time of day?
”
His afternoons were consumed with rugby practice. He
’
d been playing for the national team since his return from Afghanistan where he served with the Royal Air Force.

“
Came to see you.
”
Dressed in slacks and a shirt, his black hair flowing loose about his sturdy face, he looked more and more like their Leo-the-Lion dad. Stephen crossed the wide, sunlit office and sat in a chair across from Nathaniel
’
s desk.
“
You look horrible.
”
Tact? Not with his little brother.
“
Not sleeping, are we? How are things with Susanna? Have you heard from her?
”

“
We
’
ve spoken once, but otherwise we seem to be missing each other.
”
Nathaniel drummed the pen in his hand against the desk and stared at the financial report in front of him. Seeing but
not
seeing.
“
What are you about today? No practice?
”

“
My ankle is still bothering me. I
’
m taking some time off.
”

Nathaniel glanced up.
“
Time off? For a sprain? That doesn
’
t sound like you.
‘
Play through the pain,
’
you always say.
”

“
Yeah, well, not this time.
”
Stephen stared at the floor, then at Nathaniel.
“
I came to check on you. Is everything all right?
”

Nathaniel looked toward the tall, narrow window where the sunlight dimmed behind a cloud.
“
I don
’
t know.
”

“
How can you not know? You
’
re getting married in a little more than a fortnight.
”

“
Two weeks and four days.
”

“
Spoken like a man in love,
”
Stephen said.
“
I
’
d be counting the days too if I was marrying someone like Susanna. But here
’
s my question for you. What are you doing here if she
’
s there?
”

“
Giving her space. She
’
s only gone home for a few days to see her granny and her friend Gracie. Besides, I
’
ve work to do, Stephen.
”

“
What of this business about her American citizenship?
”

“
I see you
’
ve spoken with Mum, the family crier.
”

“
She said Susanna might not want to give up her citizenship. Pretty bold of Brock Bishop and his party to tack on the writ.
”

“
Yes, but I agree with them. Not because I mistrust Susanna, but for our descendants and the future of the throne.
”

Stephen whistled, leaning forward on his arms.
“
She must feel betrayed, Nate. You
’
re no better than our ancestors who authored the Marriage Act to keep royals from marrying foreigners.
”

“
I disagree.
”
Nathaniel rocked forward in his chair, resting his elbows on the desk.
“
Marry whom you will, but the spouse of a Brighton royal
must
be a Brighton-only citizen. It
’
s not too much to ask for the spouse of a royal in line to the throne.
”

“
But you must see her side. She
’
s doing all the giving, all the changing.
”

“
I realize that.
”
Nathaniel sighed and recapped his Parrsons House conversation with Susanna to his brother.
“
She is overwhelmed.
”
He moved to the window. The first of spring
’
s green leaves had started budding on the oaks lining the palace grounds.
“
Rollins found this. Brought it to me this morning.
”
Nathaniel pulled the pouch from his pocket, dangling it from his fingers.
“
Susanna
’
s engagement ring.
”

Stephen whistled again.
“
She left it behind?
”

“
On purpose or not, I don
’
t know, but Rollins found it on her dressing table.
”
Nathaniel slipped the ring back into his pocket and it burned like a hot coal.
“
I don
’
t know what I
’
ll do if she doesn
’
t come back.
”

“
Big brother, snap out of it. Go get her. Don
’
t sit around
hoping
for the outcome you want. It
’
s been three days. I can
’
t believe you
’
re not packing to leave. For pity
’
s sake, you
’
re a king. Act like one. Look at you, pouting like a helpless child.
”

“
Just what do you suggest? I wing my way to St. Simons Island, grab her by the hair, and order her home?
”
Nathaniel returned to his desk.
“
You should
’
ve seen her face when I told her she had to renounce her American citizenship. She
’
s already put up with leaving her home, her career, family and friends, taking on all the burdens of marrying a royal, but
this last request required the only thing she really had left of herself.
”

“
Balderdash. She
’
s plenty left of herself. Her faith. Her love for you, and yours for her. Her talent as a landscape architect, her way with people. Get over there and remind her of those things. For pity
’
s sake, act like a king. Remind her that she
’
s a princess. Remind her that you are worth all she
’
s giving up. Remind her of who she is with or without her American citizenship. Do what needs to be done to win her heart. She loves you, Nate. You need her. I daresay we all need her.
”