and sometimes there will be times where she seems like herself…” He cleared his throat. “But they’re illusions, really. Like a stopped clock being right twice a day. Whatever’s happening in her mind accidentally lines up with the real world for a split second and I can see what…things might have been like.”
I rubbed his shoulder. He smiled before turning back to watch the road.
“It’s nice being based near her,” he said. “I see her loads. I don’t think Freddie’s been lately, though, and Father never bothers at all.” His tone was cross.
“Freddie told me it’s hard without any real memories of her to speak of,” I said, hoping this wasn’t violating a confidence.
“I know. I’m not actually angry at him,” Nick admitted. “It just always gets ugly whenever anyone discusses Mum. Freddie has never cared one way or the other if it’s a secret. I’ve always felt like we owe it to her not to let the press know it beat her. But I also think it’s wrong to trot her name out falsely, and that’s where Father disagrees. He puts her name in family statements as if she’s actively involved, and it doubly hacks me off because he can use it like an alibi. If there is a perception of a functioning Princess of Wales, it gives him some benefit of the doubt if he’s seen in town with other people.”
“That seems incautious,” I said. “At best.”
“Too right,” Nick agreed, glancing in the rearview mirror. “He almost got caught with India Bolingbroke.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
Nick groaned. “That’s right, you probably haven’t talked to Clive,” he said. “I guess he was chatting up India’s friend Helena Heath-Hedwig at that party, and she let slip something about India being at Clarence House lately. Which is odd because her only reason for being there before was supposedly me, right? So Clive went nosing around, and I gather he saw her leaving rather late one night. It looked suspicious.”
I gasped. “I can’t believe he went snooping around.”
“Don’t worry, he came straight to me,” Nick said. “Jolly good of him, too, because that scoop probably would have made his career. He’s a mate, through and through. I told him I’d try to give him something he can print, as a thank-you. It’s the least I can do.”
Then it hit me. “Wait, if she was…does that mean India and Richard have been—”
“It looks that way,” Nick said.
“Since when?” I winced. “Do you think it was while you and India—”
“Please do not go any further down that path,” Nick said, shuddering. Then he brought the car to a halt, and punched a code into his mobile. Between two walls of mossy rocks, a well-camouflaged gate squeaked open.
“We’re here,” he said.
This was only technically a cottage. Yes, there was a thickly thatched roof, but it crowned a house two stories tall, with a perfect view of the Cornish sea, riotous flower beds, and an immaculate, sloping green lawn.
Nick frowned at the large black sedan in the driveway.
“I’ve never seen that before,” he said, setting his jaw.
I leapt out of the car before he could open my door for me, so we reached the cottage’s stoop in unison. Just as Nick reached for the doorknob, it turned.
And Richard walked out.
Nick stood up so straight, so fast, that it knocked him backward. Richard was dressed down to the point of being incognito—khakis, a polo shirt, no hair gel. He looked…like a dad. Which may have been part of what stunned Nick so much, given that he’d never been much of one. Richard did not seem surprised to see us, but he definitely acted uncomfortable; I got the sense he’d known we were coming and hoped to be gone before we arrived. He was holding a briefcase, and his hand tensed around the handle.
“Miss Porter,” he said.
“Your Highness,” I replied, bobbing into a slight curtsy. Years ago, I had resisted the urge. Today, I was different. Everything was.
“What are you doing here?” Nick asked.
“That is no one’s concern but mine.” Richard’s tone was defensive, but it ebbed. “She is quiet. Sometimes that’s good. It means she’ll know you’re here. I…Well. Good day.”
And with that, Richard climbed into the backseat of what was presumably his own rental, and PPO Rambo appeared from out of nowhere (the shrubberies?) to chauffeur him away. Nick gaped after him in confusion.
“Don’t let it throw you off,” I urged him. “Enjoy our time with your mom. We’ll figure him out later.”