Tangled Up in Princes (Royal Romances Book 1), page 8
Carrie pulled Amanda to her so that her cheek rested on Carrie's shoulder. Oh well, she hadn't really liked this cream colored suit anyway. She shushed and soothed and patted.
"So I figured I'd seduce Jamie, Phillip would find out, and Bob's your uncle, as the British, like to say. But Jamie wouldn't go through with it. I honestly never figured on him being chivalrous."
"You could have just backed out gracefully."
"I could. If I wasn't a spoiled brat. I know I've handled it all wrong. I've made a fool of myself, I've embarrassed Phillip, not to mention Mom and Dad, and I'm sorry for all of it."
"Mom and Dad, do they know?"
Amanda nodded as silent tears leaked down her cheeks.
"And?"
"Mom tried to talk me out of it."
"Of course, she did."
"And Daddy just looked at me like he'd never seen me before."
"I need to go see them. Will you be all right here alone?"
Amanda stood up straighter.
"I'm as good here as anywhere I guess. I should probably start packing."
Packing-- yes, Carrie would need to start packing too. They'd probably be leaving Drummond Castle by tomorrow at the latest. Would Edward know? Would she ever see him again?
"I can't think about him now," she whispered as she hurried down the regal hall toward her parents room.
She walked in to find her mom sobbing with such force that Amanda's earlier histrionics seemed reserved by contrast.
"Oh, Carrie!"--her mom ran to her and sobbed against her shoulder--"I can't believe this is happening."
"Shhh."
Carrie kicked the door closed with an unsophisticated mule kick. She tried to turn her admonition for her mother to quiet down into an attempt to soothe her mom's distress.
"Hush now, it'll be fine."
"It won't. It's terrible. Everybody is just being so awful. You have no idea of the terrible things Phillip's mother said about Amanda."
"Mom, Amanda did break off the engagement the day before the wedding--a wedding that Phillip's parents put considerable time and money into. You can't very well expect them to be Amanda's biggest fans right now."
"Are you taking their side?"
"Of course not. I'm just saying we should cut Phillip's mother a little slack is all. I don't think it can hurt to approach this situation calmly."
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Carrie knew she was fighting a losing battle. When had her mother ever chosen calm and tactful when she could have flamboyant and dramatic instead?
"I can't believe this is happening. How can Amanda do this to me? It's so unfair."
It was no use. Carrie just sighed and patted her mother's back some more.
"Where's Dad?"
"He's probably still dealing with that horrid woman. I had to leave. I just couldn't take it anymore."
Carrie ushered her mother to a chair and poured her a glass of water from the morning's breakfast tray.
"Will you be all right here while I go check on Dad?"
"I don't know," her mother said with a tremor in her voice.
Carrie rolled her eyes but changed her patting motion to a squeeze on her mom's shoulder.
"Just stay here and collect yourself, and when you feel up to it, packing up your things probably wouldn't be a bad idea."
She hurried from the room lest another flood of tears delay her. She wasn't sure where to find her father, but she didn't have to look for long. The sound of raised voices drew her to a small study off the main dining room. Her father and Phillip were staring at Phillip's mother, who was shouting and jabbing a perfectly manicured finger at each man in turn.
"You," jab at Phillip, "I told you she wasn't for you, but did you listen? And now look. You've shamed yourself — and the Rhys-Cooper name--and with two members of the royal family in attendance no less!”
"Mother, Edward and Jamie are my friends. I hardly think their concern is that this will somehow sully the crown. It's bad enough without you conflating this to an international incident."
She whirled on her son.
"I warned you about that American trollop from the beginning. Now she's embarrassed us in front of the royal family, made you a laughingstock, and cost us hundreds of thousands of pounds for a wedding that should never have happened in the first place."
"Then I should think you'd be happy at this turn of events,” Phillip said coldly.
It was the first time Carrie had ever heard Phillip raise his voice to anyone.
"Happy that the entire world knows my son, my son, was taken in by a common American slapper?"
"Now see here," Carrie's father said.
At the same moment, Carrie interjected, "Now wait just a minute."
Mrs. Rhys-Cooper faced them, her eyes squinty and mean. She raked Carrie from head to tow before addressing Carrie's father.
"Amanda is actually the more upstanding of your daughters, is she not? Tell me, Mr. MacCallum, did you school them in gold digging, or is it a trait that they acquired naturally?"
"Mother! Leave Carrie out of this," Phillip demanded, “no one has been gold digging here. All of this”--he swept out a hand to encompass the surrounding opulence—“was of your devising. No one, not even Amanda, ever intended this wedding to be such a lavish affair. This was yourself and your desire to impress”--his laugh held no humor--“Amanda is hardly the first woman in my life to be overawed by the quality of my friends’ pedigrees. I beg your pardon, Mr. MacCallum.”
“No need, son. I apologize that Amanda has wronged you"--her father turned to Phillip’s mother--“but that doesn't give you the right to be rude and insulting to Carrie. I won't stand for it."
Mrs. Rhys-Cooper's face turned red with rage.
"You won't stand for it! You Americans with your swagger and bravado, you're nothing but a lot of ruffians is what you are. The only good thing to come out of this whole fiasco is that my son finally sees your daughters, both of them, for what they really are.”
“What seems to be amiss here?”
Mr. Rhys-Cooper joined them and instantly looked as though he wished he hadn’t. He went to his wife’s side, caught sight of her face, then took a step back to stand nearer Phillip.
Carrie’s father stepped forward, extended his hand to Phillip’s father, then let it drop.
"I am sorry. I owe you an apology. The entire mess, I take full responsibility"--he did move forward to take Phillip's hand then--"I am unspeakably sorry for your pain. You are a good man, Phillip, and I would never have wished this on you. It pains me that your distress is due to Amanda."
"Empty platitudes," Mrs. Rhys-Cooper said, "your family won't have to bear the stain of this incident forever."
Carrie’s father looked agape at the woman, then he looked to Carrie.
“How can you say that?”
Mrs. Rhys-Cooper ignored her husband’s attempts to soothe her.
"I'll thank you for vacating these premises immediately. You are no longer welcome here."
She patted her hair into place and resumed her demeanor of icy calm.
"You will be hearing from my husband's representative on the matter of recompense for this debacle."
Carrie pulled on her father's sleeve.
"Come on, Dad."
There was no reasoning with this woman, and her father had gone frighteningly pale at the mention of having to repay for the wedding. Before leaving, Carrie looked to Phillip.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for all of it.”
***
"The surgery is scheduled for the early morning, and the news about the procedure will be released late the night before.," the king said with authority though he never met the gaze of any of his seven children--all of whom had been called to the palace for a briefing.
"The public will be given periodic reports throughout the day. Evelyn, the schedule if you please?"
Evelyn Smithpeters, the press secretary who had been with the royal family for as long as Edward could remember, passed out packets to everyone seated around the table.
"You've already scripted the outcome of the procedure? How convenient," Georgiana said.
Edward's youngest sister, Georgiana, had arrived in jeans and a T-shirt, to the continuing consternation of both their mother, father and every member of the Palace staff. Edward could swear he'd even seen a member of the King's Guard roll his eyes once at Gigi's choice of attire.
"We'd hoped of course that no official word from the palace would be required, but given that the surgeons are recommending further treatment," Edward's mother said, clearing her throat, "we can't keep this from the public any longer. They have a right to know what their king is facing."
"Indeed, they do," the king echoed, though with less assurance.
"I know they will want to come together and lift up their sovereign in prayer."
Gigi scoffed, and Lizzy kicked her sharply beneath the table.
Jamie fished through the remaining packets on the table.
"I think I have the wrong one. This one seems to be about your prior surgery and not the upcoming one."
"Everyone has the correct packets," Smithpeters said, "We've discussed the matter thoroughly and even put a variety of information before focus groups. What we've found is that the public will respond best to a low-risk procedure of the kind that His Majesty had last week as opposed to the upcoming, more invasive procedure."
"So you're just changing reality, are you?" Leopold said.
"We are adjusting the timeline of information," Smithpeters said with a glare.
"Handy trick, that," Jamie said from behind a sheet of paper.
Their mother laid down her packet with more force than was necessary.
"I expect my children to present a united front to our subjects. I will accept nothing less. Had your father's results come back differently, there would be no need for any of this. The very last thing we would ever want to do would be to needlessly upset the public. The fact of the matter is that your father, your father," she repeated, looking at each of their children in turn, "has cancer. The extent of that cancer has yet to be determined. This is a difficult enough time for the pair of us without the seven of you making it more so. What is expected of you now is that you will become the leaders you were born to be.” She looked at Gigi. "That includes all of you."
When she'd finished, she nodded to Smithpeters.
"Thank you, Your Highness," Smithpeters said, fixing a pair of reading spectacles on her nose, "our data shows that to announce the severity of your father's condition right now would alarm the public in such a way as to spawn a debate of the necessity of the continuation of the monarchy. I think we can all agree that this is the worst possible outcome, and yet, this is precisely what we face. Our strategy for the dissemination of information is designed specifically to minimize just such a groundswell of opposition. Not all in the United Kingdom believe that the monarchy is relevant to the 21st century."
"We have enemies,” the king intoned, "You would do well not to forget that."
Silence greeted this dire pronouncement, a silence that lasted until one of Smithpeters’ underlings entered looking red-faced and out of breath. He went to his boss's side and whispered in her ear. She directed him to the telly hidden in a cabinet.
"We have a situation."
Smithpeters looked at Edward, an expression of disapproval that rivaled any of those he routinely received from his father.
The underling flipped through channels, finally pausing on a shot of a terminal at Heathrow. The sound of Dinah Adams' voice filled Edward with dread.
"There she is, the Mystery Lady no longer. It seems that Carrie MacCallum, our own Prince Edward's one-time lover, is leaving the country."
She was leaving England. Edward ran a hand through his hair.
"Bloody hell," Edward breathed.
He wanted to look away, but he couldn't. As much as the sight of the press frenzy sickened him, he desperately wanted to see her, just a glimpse of her face. The shot showed reporters swarming a small cluster of people. Edward recognized Carrie's father. He was using his hat to swat away reporters as he tried to shield his wife and daughters from the mayhem. Airport security seemed to be having no better luck keeping the hungry press hoard at bay.
"Sources report that our own prince isn't the only one with whom the woman dubbed the Skanky Yankee has been intimate of late. It's reported that Carrie MacCallum's sister, Amanda, called off her wedding to millionaire mogul Phillip Rhys-Cooper after witnessing Carrie's shameless advances. We have no word on the state of the obviously strained relationship between the sisters, but a spokesperson for the Rhys-Cooper family says that Phillip deeply regrets the cancelation of his wedding, and vows that he never encouraged Carrie's advances."
"Phillip would never speak to the press about something so personal," Jamie shouted at the telly.
Dinah's report was interrupted by a fellow reporter's shouted inquiry as Carrie and her family passed.
"What's it, lovey, the prince not have enough money for you? You had to steal your sister's catch?"
Carrie looked up then, and Edward's heart felt like it stopped beating. She'd been crying. Instead of the outrage he'd expected to see on her face, he saw pain, and worse, embarrassment.
He couldn't help the groan that escaped him. He pulled out his phone to call Martin. Surely, there was something he could do, some shield or buffer he could offer her.
"What are you doing?" his father barked.
"She needs help. I have to do something."
"Oh no, you don't"--his father leaned across the table and plucked the phone from Edward's hands--"Adding more fuel to that fire will only cause a conflagration. Surely you can see that. There are more important matters to attend to than the plight of some American who is even now on her way out of the country."
Jamie started to speak, but their father jabbed a finger in his direction.
"I will tolerate no more of such outlandish behavior from either of you."
He pointed from Jamie to Edward.
"From any of you. It has been a very long time since a ruling monarch disowned one of his children --"
"Victor!" their mother exclaimed.
"And it would give me great pain to be the one to resurrect the practice, but we are at a critical juncture in the history of the crown. I will not”--he pounded the table with his fist--"go down as the last English monarch."
With that, their father stood. Obediently, his children rose as well and watched him walk out of the room.
Edward's mother stopped him once the others had gone.
"You must understand the strain he's under."
"I do understand, of course, I do. Nevertheless, I should have offered Carrie some form of protection. She never asked for this. She didn't deserve this."
He shook his head.
"It's no matter now. She'll be leaving, and likely she's glad of it."
"Edward, have you feelings for this woman?"
What was he to say to that? He wouldn't lie to his mother, but if he told her the truth—that, yes, he felt more for Carrie than he'd ever felt for any woman--then there would be more attention focused on Carrie, and he'd wager that attention from his mother would make the paparazzi look like friendly chums from one's nursery days. Soon, Carrie would be back in America. She'd be rid of him and all the attendant complications. She'd have the freedom she deserved, the freedom that could never be his.
"She doesn't deserve what's happened to her."
"Perhaps not, but, Edward, if she can't handle it, then she isn't the woman for you."
Chapter Seven
Carrie watched a pair of size eleven bamboo knitting needles go flying across her store, followed by a ball of pink washable wool yarn.
"I can't do this!" came a high-pitched voice.
Carrie was pretty sure she knew who the culprit would be. Ella had been taking lessons from Carrie for six months now and still hadn't mastered a passable purl stitch. Normally, Carrie wouldn't tolerate such behavior from her students, but Ella was only seven years old, so Carrie was inclined to cut her some slack.
"What seems to be the trouble?" Carrie asked in her most patient teacher voice.
Ella's face was red and her arms were crossed over her chest.
"I'm supposed to have twenty stitches, and I have thirty, that's what's wrong. I hate purling. I'll never figure it out. Never ever. Ever!" This last was accompanied by a foot stomp.
The girls around Ella tightened their grips on their own needles in case Ella decided more needle throwing was in order. Smart girls. Carrie retrieved Ella's yarn and needles and sat down next to her.
"Let's see if we can figure this out."
Carrie loved the kids’ class. She could tell from the very first day which ones were going to be passionate knitters and which kids were going to give it up in six months in favor of ballet or gymnastics. If she could pass on her love of knitting, a love given to her by her grandmother, then she could give these girls a hobby for a lifetime and endless hours of enjoyment. From a practical standpoint, the kids’ class was rewarding. Their problems were easy to solve -- unlike the problems Carrie faced outside this class.
"Now Ella, did you remember to move your yarn to the front before you made the purl stitches?"
Ella's shoulders slumped, "I forgot."
Carrie hugged the girl.
"It's okay. It's a mistake everybody makes when they're learning. Tell you what. I've got some cotton yarn in a bright yellow. How about you try a square of just purl stitches. It will make a beautiful dishrag, and the purl bumps will make it good for scrubbing. It can be a present for your mom. Once we get the hang of purling, then we'll go back to the pink scarf. Sound good?"
Ella agreed with a nod of her head and an oh-so-dramatic sigh. Sensing the girl was close to giving up, Carrie decided to cast on for her. She was almost finished when a delivery van parked in front of the shop. She wasn't expecting a delivery today. There must be some mistake. She was just about to go out and tell the driver as much when her mother breezed in from the stock room.
