turned to another panelist and said, “Wouldn’t you agree, Ronald? What drew you to your career and to the issue of refugees in particular?”
The interview clip had aired on nearly every network in Europe. Overnight, the public perception of Claire changed. Even the most barbed tabloid reporters commented on her political acumen and her history of helping those in need, rather than labeling her as a fortune hunter merely angling for the late queen’s title.
As the questions hit from multiple reporters, Zeno held his hands palms out in a request for silence in the briefing room. When it quieted, he broke into a huge smile. “I have news to share that I believe will answer your questions. It is my pleasure to announce that King Eduardo and the Honorable Claire Peyton are engaged to be married. They plan to wed at a private ceremony here at the palace in approximately six weeks. Other details will be forthcoming, but in the meantime, let’s close this briefing by wishing them a long and happy life together.”
The room had erupted.
As Zeno had announced, their wedding had taken place in the palace chapel. Karen Hutchinson had served as maid of honor and Giovanni Sozzani had served as best man. The guests had included Claire’s family, who’d flown in from New Mexico, staff members from La Rocca and the embassy, and a number of friends. The entire diTalora clan was in attendance, though Eduardo heard so many people ask both Arturo and Paolo whether they had gum he feared they might mount an escape. King Carlo and Queen Fabrizia had come from Sarcaccia, as had Queen Fabrizia’s personal assistant, Daniela, and her husband, Royce, who’d both done work for Eduardo several years earlier. After he’d introduced Daniela and Royce to Claire, Eduardo had leaned close and whispered, “I have to tell you their story. Don’t let me forget.”
It had been a personal, uplifting ceremony, and as he and Claire exited the chapel and walked toward the carriage that would take them through the streets of San Rimini for a celebratory ride, he’d felt as if he were walking on air.
Yes, Eduardo thought, the choices they’d made leading up to the ceremony were perfect for the two of them.
The previous morning, Miroslav had spirited them out of the palace so they could visit the Duomo together before it opened at sunrise. They’d left flowers for Aletta—a happy, colorful bouquet rather than the usual white roses—and hadn’t been surprised to see that a number of others had left flowers in recent days. As Eduardo had turned to go, Claire had asked to remain alone for a moment. He’d watched her speak softly in front of the crypt, her hands folded in front of her, while he’d waited in a nearby pew. Then he’d allowed his gaze to lift to the stained-glass windows. They remained dark in the predawn hours, but he knew the stories they told. They were tales of hope, of family, of kindness. Of love.
It was as he’d promised Aletta when he’d visited on the last anniversary of her passing. This visit was more meaningful and there were no cameras. This was as it should be.
Claire had approached soundlessly and put a hand on his shoulder. “Onward?”
“Onward.”
Last night they’d enjoyed dinner in the residence with Claire’s parents, his four children and their spouses, and King Carlo and Queen Fabrizia. Though Eduardo didn’t need Queen Fabrizia’s blessing before marrying Claire, it had meant the world to him when, at the end of the night, his wife’s dearest friend had confided, “Aletta would have loved her. I can see that your children do. I’m so happy for you, Eduardo. Carlo and I both are. She’s wonderful.”
Afterward, when they were alone, he’d held Claire for a long time. They were both too keyed up to sleep, so they’d found a comedy show on television and curled up on the sofa. They’d talked about the wedding, about the guests, and about Claire’s new role. She had a purpose, but one that wouldn’t be dictated by a president or state department. She’d gotten to know Margaret Halaby, and together they’d discussed philanthropic pursuits that appealed to Claire. Her first project involved promoting a clinic in Ethiopia that offered treatment to women who’d suffered from fistulas during childbirth. Both Amanda and Jennifer, Prince Antony’s wife, hoped to become involved in the project, which had thrilled Claire. In the coming months, Claire hoped to visit the clinic in person, then travel on