Affairs of State Page 8

  “I’m penciling it in.” She could hear the irony in his voice. “And call me at once if there’s anything you need. Our entire nation is at your disposal.”

  “Thanks.” She grinned. “Much appreciated.”

  She shook her head as she put her phone away. How had her life changed so much in six short months? There were even photographers at the airport, though she doubted they’d get much money for photos of her in jeans and with her hair in a messy bun, carrying her luggage to the taxi rank. There was so much to be excited about, sometimes it was hard to remember that she had plenty to be afraid of as well.

  Meeting her reclusive mother, hopefully meeting her famous father and now a romance with a man who made her smile each time she thought of him. It was all just a little too fabulous. Rather like teetering on a tightrope between two skyscrapers. She had to keep her chin up, her eyes forward and put one foot in front of the other, and hopefully in another six months she’d be in an even better place, where everything wasn’t quite so strange and precarious.

  “You come from America?” The cab driver’s loud Cockney voice jolted her from her thoughts. He didn’t wait for an answer. “You ’eard about this girl who’s supposed to be the daughter of your president?”

  She froze. Did he recognize her? He looked in his side mirror and changed lanes. “I’m not sure who you mean.”

  “Pretty girl. Long brown ’air. Looks a bit like you.” His eyes fixed on hers again in the mirror. She blinked. “Papers say she’s ’avin’ an affair with our Prince Simon. Some people have all the luck, don’t they?”

  “Oh, yes.” She pretended to text on her phone, keeping her head down. Maybe he was fishing for information he could sell to the London tabloid that always had a bare-breasted woman on page three. “Very lucky.”

  She kept her head down until they pulled up in front of her hotel. Mercifully there wasn’t a photographer in sight and she checked in and changed, telling herself to be prepared for anything.

  * * *

  Frustration made Simon spring from his chair and pace across the room. How could Ariella be right here in his own country and too busy to see him? Their few days of separation had him in an agony of anticipation. Now he had to wait until Thursday to see her?

  He called her on Monday night, hoping that her dinner meeting would be over and they could plan a moonlit tryst. No dice. She was still in consultation with a client, and she wouldn’t even reveal the person’s name. He rather suspected it was his schoolmate Toby Buckingham, and he tried calling him to intercept from another direction, but Toby didn’t even answer.

  On Tuesday morning he tried again, hoping for a quick tea, only to be politely brushed off. Restless as hell by Wednesday afternoon, he threw on a panama hat that covered his face and decided to stroll the short distance from St James’s Palace to Buckingham Palace. Maybe he’d go for a ride on one of the queen’s horses. He told his driver, who doubled as security, to head there without him so he could get some fresh air. David didn’t make a fuss. He knew that nothing was likely to happen on the quiet streets between the two palaces, and Simon had his phone if needed.

  He was walking briskly, trying to banish the vision of Ariella’s intoxicating beauty from his mind, when a girl walking along the other side of the street, in the opposite direction, caught his eye.

  She walked exactly like Ariella. Long-legged, and graceful as a gazelle, with the slightly loping stride of someone in a hurry. But this woman had shoulder-length blond hair. Large dark glasses hid her face. He turned and stared after her as she passed.

  That was Ariella’s walk. And those were her shoes. The sight of those simple black ballet flats she favored sent a jolt of adrenaline to his own feet. He turned, following her, still on the opposite side of the street.

  Why would she be in disguise? The hair must be a wig. The neat black skirt did nothing to disguise the elegant swing of her hips. He’d recognize that walk anywhere. Who was she hiding from? She had no reason to conceal her movements to plan the big wedding she was here to organize. She was used to photographers tracking her and mostly ignored them, as he’d witnessed on several occasions in D.C.

  She was doing something that she didn’t want anyone to know about. Including him.

  She crossed the road to his side and he slowed his pace and hung back a little. Not that she even glanced at him. She was lost in a world of her own, barely noticing the other people on the pavement. She walked fast, but he had no trouble keeping up.

  Why are you following her?

  Because I want to know where she’s going.

  Something in his gut told him that this was wrong. She had a right to privacy. In fact they’d had several long discussions about how much they valued their right to privacy, which was often under siege. Somehow, that didn’t stop him.

  She turned left, down a small side road. She hesitated and pulled a phone out of her pocket, causing him to stop in his tracks. A man walking behind him bumped into him, and by the time he’d apologized she was walking again. Talking on the phone.

  He couldn’t hear what she was saying, but her singsong laugh was unmistakable. Which confirmed what he already knew. Ariella Winthrop was walking through Mayfair in disguise, and he was going to find out why.

  Why hadn’t she told him where she was going? Fresh from defending her to his suspicious family, he found doubts sneaking into his mind. He knew she wouldn’t leak stories of their romance to the media. Would she? Not that there was anything to leak, though he intended to change that as soon as humanly possible.

  Could it be something to do with her famous father? They hadn’t spoken much about him. She seemed to find the subject awkward, considering that she’d never met him.

  Or was there another man in her life? His mind and body recoiled from the idea and he didn’t believe it for a moment. But where was she going?

  She turned left and he hurried to keep up, in case she disappeared into one of the tall Edwardian buildings lining the street. She’d tucked her phone back into her purse and strode on, looking intently ahead. Then she stopped.

  This time he glanced behind him before halting, to avoid a collision. She pulled out a piece of paper and glanced up at the plaque on the house. Then she climbed the steps, rang a bell, and entered through a pair of heavy wood doors.

  He approached the building a full minute later and paused as discreetly as possible in front of the doorway. The Westchester Club. He had no idea what that was, only that he wanted to gain entry. He strolled to the end of the block, pretended to casually consult a No Parking sign and considered his options.

  * * *

  Ariella’s heart pounded as she climbed into the elevator and pressed a button. It was the old-fashioned kind of elevator with the sliding iron gates, and hearing the porter slam them behind her didn’t help her nerves. Her mother was waiting for her on the fifth floor.

  Scarlet had suggested this private club as a venue. Rooms were available for rent only to the most exclusive groups, and Scarlet had called in a favor to secure one for this afternoon, since it was near Ariella’s hotel so she could get there without attracting attention.

  She pulled off the cheesy blond wig she’d bought to keep photographers off her scent, and loosed her hair from its bun. The elevator jerked to a halt on the fifth floor. She hauled back the iron gate and stepped out onto a polished wood floor. The hallway contained three tall doors, and she was wondering which one was number 503, when one of the doors opened.

  “Ariella?” The tentative voice came from a slender, pretty woman with curly light brown hair.

  “Yes?” There was a question in her voice, as if she wasn’t quite sure who she was any more. She wanted to greet the woman as “Mom,” but that seemed presumptuous. Her heart beat so fast she could hardly speak. “You must be Eleanor.”

  Eleanor’s hands had risen to cover her mouth as tears welled in her big green eyes. Eyes almost exactly like her own. “You’re so beautiful. Even more so than in the p
hotos.”

  “You’re sweet. And you look far too young to be the mother of a twenty-eight-year-old.” She looked like she was still in her thirties, with smooth pale skin and a girlish figure.

  “I am too young to be the mother of a twenty-eight-year-old.” She shrugged and smiled. “That was the problem, really. I got pregnant when I was too young to be ready.” Tears ran down her cheeks. “And I missed out on so much.”

  Eleanor seemed ready to lose it, and Ariella wanted to comfort her, but didn’t know how. She ushered her back into the room, which was a large drawing room with several graciously upholstered sofas. “Shall we sit down?”

  “Oh, yes.” Eleanor pulled out a tissue and wiped her face. “I’m sorry I’m making such a fool of myself. It’s just that…I’ve waited so long for this moment and I wasn’t sure it would ever come.”

  “Me, too. I can hardly believe we’re finally getting to meet.” They sat next to each other on the plush sofa, and she took Eleanor’s hands in her own and squeezed them. Her skin was cool and soft. Cold hands, warm heart. The cliché popped into her mind. “Thank you so much for coming to London to see me.”

  “It’s my great pleasure. I’m too afraid to travel to the States. I feel like they’d know who I was when I go through airport security and there’d be a big to do.” Eleanor had picked up an Irish lilt to her voice. “I’m very shy, really. That’s one of the reasons why I knew I wouldn’t be good for Ted. He was always so outgoing and friendly and loved to be around people.”

  Ariella realized that Ted was the man she still thought of as the president of the United States. “Was he your boyfriend?” She only knew what she’d read in the papers, and she knew from firsthand experience they weren’t always a reliable source.

  Eleanor sighed. “He was. We dated our junior and senior years in high school. I was so in love!” Her soft eyes looked distant. “Even then he had big plans and intended to go away to college. He dreamed of being a Rhodes Scholar and studying abroad, and then he wanted to join the Peace Corps and travel. He always had such grand ambitions.”

  “Well, he’s achieved the highest office an American can attain.”

  Eleanor nodded. Her mouth tightened for a moment, her lip almost quivering. Ariella ached to put her arms around this delicate and nervous woman, but didn’t want to frighten her. “I never did really understand what he saw in me. He said he found me very peaceful.” Her eyes twinkled with the memory.

  “I’m sure an energetic and outgoing man needs peace more than anyone.”

  She smiled at Ariella. “Maybe so. My husband, Greg, was a quiet man. Not as exciting as Ted but a good man who I shared a happy marriage with for twenty-three years. He died of a heart attack. Far too young, he was.” Tears welled in her eyes again.

  “I’m sorry. I would have liked to meet him.”

  Eleanor’s gaze focused on her. “Did you tell me that you’ve never met Ted?”

  Ariella swallowed and shook her head. “Not yet, but…” She paused. It sounded pathetic really. Embarrassing. How could they have gone all this time—nearly two months since the DNA test results were released—without any contact at all?

  “I’m sure Ted wants to meet you. I know it in my heart.” She squeezed Ariella’s hands. “They must be keeping him from you. You must reach out to him.”

  “I’ve been talking to ANS about doing a taped reunion. It should take place soon.”

  “On television?” Eleanor’s eyes widened into shock.

  She nodded. “My friend Francesca’s husband is president of the network. Apparently the White House is almost ready to agree to a date.”

  Eleanor winced. “A private meeting would be so much nicer.”

  “I know, but the president isn’t a private person, really. Not to the point where I could call him up and introduce myself. Somehow it seemed more…doable.”

  “You’re outgoing, too, aren’t you?” She smiled slightly.

  “I suppose I am. I plan parties for a living. I love getting people together and making it an occasion to remember.”

  She smiled again. “You must get that from Ted. You have his cheekbones, too. And that sparkle of determination he always had in his eye.”

  “I think you and I look alike, too.” She drank in the precious sight of her birth mother’s face. “Our faces are similar shapes, and we’re both tall and slim.”

  “Will o’ the Wisp, Ted used to call me. Said a strong breeze would blow me away one day. I suppose in a way he was right. It blew me over to Ireland and I didn’t dare to look back.”

  “I’m sure he’d love to see you again.”

  Her eyes widened into a look of panic. “Oh, no. No. I’m sure he’d never forgive me for what I did. I thought it was for the best but looking back I can see that not telling him he had a child was a terrible thing to do. An act of cowardice. I won’t forgive myself and I wouldn’t expect him to, either.”

  Not knowing her famous father, Ariella wasn’t really in a position to argue with her. “Why didn’t you tell him?”

  “I knew he’d do the right thing.” She said it with mocking emphasis. “Not the right thing for him and the big career he’d dreamed of, but the right thing in the eyes of our parents and pastors and neighbors. He’d settle down in our small town in Montana and live a tiny fraction of the live he’d imagined, because he’d be forced to support a family instead of going off to the big college he’d won a scholarship to. I could never let him throw away his future like that.”

  “You could have let him make the decision himself.”

  “I know. Now I know that.” Tears welled in her eyes again. “I didn’t want him to grow to hate me so I did the one thing that should truly make him hate me. I gave away our child and never told him she existed.” She broke down into sobs.

  Unable to hold back any longer, Ariella wrapped her arms around Eleanor’s slim shoulders and held her tight, her own tears falling. “Everything happens for a reason,” she said softly. “Maybe we’ll never even know the true reason, but I believe that all the same.”

  “You’re a very clever girl. I can see that in your eyes.” Eleanor dabbed at her own eyes with a tissue. “You have your dad’s keen intelligence. I bet you have a university degree, don’t you?”

  Ariella nodded. “In history, from Georgetown.”

  “It’s such a coincidence that both you and Ted wound up living in Washington, D.C.” She blew her nose.

  “It is strange.”

  At that moment the door opened and their heads swung around. Ariella gasped when she saw Simon standing in the doorway.

  Six

  “Ariella.” Simon had a hat clutched in his hand and a curiously intense expression on his face.

  Eleanor gasped and brought her wet tissue to her face as if she wanted to hide behind it.

  “What are you doing here?” Ariella’s voice came out sounding stern.

  “I…” He hesitated. A sheepish expression crossed his handsome features. “I confess that I saw you on the street and followed you.”

  “What?” Anger surged inside her, warring with the sharp sting of attraction. “What made you think you could follow me into a private meeting?”

  He shrugged. “I’m embarrassed to say that I didn’t examine my motives too closely.” He looked at Eleanor, as if expecting an introduction.

  “You need to leave.” Ariella rose to her feet. She could feel Eleanor, desperate to preserve her privacy, shrinking back into the shell that she’d started to emerge from. “You may be a prince but that doesn’t mean you can march in anywhere you feel like.”

  “You’re absolutely right, of course. My sincerest apologies.” He nodded and bowed to Eleanor, and started to back out the door.

  “Wait!” She couldn’t just let him go. Damn it. Angry as she was, she wanted to see him too badly. She turned to Eleanor. “This is my…boyfriend.” She dared Simon to argue with her word choice. “Is it okay if I introduce you?”

  Eleanor gulped
, but nodded shyly.

  “Simon Worth, this is Eleanor Daly. My mother.” Her throat swelled with emotion as she said the word mother.

  Eleanor stared. “Prince Simon Worth?”

  Simon bowed. “At your service. It’s an honor to meet you, Mrs. Daly.” He swept forward, took her hand and shook it warmly, while she gazed at him in shock. “I know Ariella’s been looking forward to this for a long time.”

  “Goodness.” She stared from one of them to the other, as if she wasn’t sure what was going to happen next.

  A feeling shared by her daughter. “Simon encouraged me to meet you. I wasn’t sure you’d want to.”

  “I’m so glad the two of you are finally getting together.” Simon glowed with confidence and good cheer, as usual. “It seems a wonderful thing to come out of the wiretapping scandal.”

  Eleanor still looked shell-shocked. “I saw a headline about the two of you at the newsagent and I just assumed it was more made-up rubbish.”

  “Sometimes there’s a grain of truth in the wild stories the press invent.” Simon smiled. “I’m happy to confirm that this is one of them.”

  “So you two are actually…dating?” Eleanor stared from Simon to Ariella.

  “We’re not quite sure what we’re doing.” Ariella jumped in, not wanting Simon to be put on the spot. She couldn’t even imagine how the royal family might be reacting to news of their romance. Simon hadn’t mentioned the topic, which wasn’t too encouraging. “We enjoy each other’s company.”

  “Oh.” Eleanor’s brow furrowed with concern. Ariella got the sense that she’d love to issue some stern warnings, but was too polite. She probably wasn’t happy that her newfound daughter was embarking on a relationship that wasn’t likely to end in a glorious happy-ever-after.

  Because really, did she expect Simon to marry her?

  The whole idea was ridiculously premature. They hadn’t even done more than kiss yet. She glanced at Simon, whose eyes met hers and sent a zap of heat straight to her core. It would have been so much easier if she could have avoided him. This week was hectic enough already.