Chapter 3 A Miracle Baby
A MIRACLE BABY
DUNCAN
London Daily Times
The Duchess of Lauderdale, Lady Lucy Ferguson, was spotted arriving at Buckingham Palace this morning.
Toting her goddaughter, tiny Vanora Lyons-Lennon, she entered the Palace, face drawn.
Lady Ferguson often known only as “The Duchess” by insiders is often labeled a mastermind.
A former Lady Chamberlain, she knows how to clean up a mess and redirect the conversation.
“Lady Ferguson was essential in handling matters during the split from the Church.
She is Her Majesty's favorite confidante and will be central in damage control,” Royal Correspondent Leo Hayes says.
“I am not surprised by her arrival today. I expected it. Her Majesty is taking this crisis seriously.”
And, in an unexpected turn of events, a new player has entered the ring in the battle now known as “PrinceGate”.
Known spin doctor extraordinaire Abigail Forrest has arrived along with an unnamed partner-in-crime at Buckingham Palace Gate.
The women were spotted entering the service entrance shortly after the Duchess of Lauderdale arrived.
Per insiders, Ms. Forrest works closely with many power players in London and Hollywood alike.
Maybe the Queen's niece Leah Roughy did the introductions?
Still no statement from the Palace. We will keep you updated on this developing story.
When Lucy Ferguson showed up with a baby, I knew it was over. She was the palace fixer and Mum’s ride-or-die. Though retired, she could be deployed in crisis situations. I stared at her, then Dad, and waited for someone to speak.
Annoyed, Lucy explained, “I was summoned. I came.”
“And the baby?” I asked. “What did she do?”
Lucy foisted little Vanora—called Vanna after my late grandmother—into my lap and slumped on the sofa by Dad. I stared at the blue-eyed child who gaped at me. She grabbed my nose and blew a raspberry.
“At least one of us is taking this seriously,” I joked.
“Leah is in a creative moment. She has expelled everyone from the house while she composes. The problem is that the twins don’t quite understand how to play nicely with this new sibling and all the grown-ups are constantly interfering. So, I took her with me. What, you find her distracting?”
Leah was my cousin, a superstar actor-turned-director.
The woman had an EGOT by forty and made me look like a slouch.
She was the tour-de-force my mother wished I was.
Lucy’s son, Mac, donated the sperm Leah and her wife, Lourdes, needed to conceive their three children.
Lucy was technically the godmother but took on a grandmother role quite often in an unusual arrangement never codified or explained to the press.
“Yes,” I chuckled, giving her forehead a kiss. “Why do babies smell so heavenly?”
“So we do not kill them.” Lucy straightened in her chair. “Speaking of killing... I'm here to spare you and I've brought in reinforcements.”
I groaned.
“I am not going to beat a horse the press have already taken out. I am not cruel, sweetheart, but we need outside help. I hired someone based on Leah’s recommendation.”
“So we are taking cues from Leah now?”
“Leah knows everyone that I don't,” Lucy said. “These people are connected and can massage away problems for stars with their hands in the cookie jar. I am sure they can handle a wayward prince.”
I rolled my eyes. “And we are sure they will be quiet?”
“If Leah trusts them, I do.”
I didn’t trust the Hollywood set, but argument was futile. Lucy ran the show and knew where all the bodies are buried. Despite her American Midwestern accent, she always wielded her sword effectively.
The baby grabbed my shirt collar and pulled herself towards me, jerking and falling forward. I caught her.
“Watch it, trouble!” I chuckled. “You're up to no good.”
“Oh, you've managed to find the baby!”
Mum appeared in the doorway, then sat by the fire, furthest from me. “You realize you could make one of those if you would stop fucking around and finding out, right?”
I took a deep breath, but said nothing. Mum settled in, then softened.
“I have always wanted to spoil you because I worried there would never be a you. You were our miracle baby. All that spoiling got you was this... a mess of my making. I must cut the apron strings, and you must grow up. It’s time we bring in a handler for you.”
And with that, my fate was decided. I would learn to be a good boy or face the consequences. My luck had finally run out.