Chapter 12
Stranded at Windsor
LANIE
I remembered Windsor Castle from a childhood trip with my parents.
We came on business, twelve-year-old me tagging along.
I felt particularly special to be there with them alone.
Derrick had school activities while Davey, Dahlia, and Daphne were already grown.
Dora was too little to travel. I remembered being amazed at its size and overjoyed to be in an actual castle.
Mum had laughed about my overwhelm with how pretty it all was.
After all, she grew up in the castle Baz’s family stole.
As I waited to be received by Leah, I looked around the drawing room where I’d been left by a footman.
I wasn’t quite nervous. I felt whiplash.
I had a wild twenty-four hours complete with a sex club, some of the best sex I ever had, a man ordering me breakfast, and now an audience at Windsor Castle with my boss who also happened to be the Queen’s niece.
I wondered if Leah saw me last night? I wondered if she somehow knew what I’d been up to. I worried about awkwardness.
This was further complicated when a person I least expected ducked in.
“Oh, are you still waiting on Leah?” Queen Natalie entered in a pair of riding breeches, tall boots, and a Burberry jacket.
I jumped to my feet and did my best curtsy. “Your Majesty, I am so sorry. Yes, I was supposed to meet Leah here for something regarding her show.”
“Oh, relax, darling. She rang to say she’s running late. She said she and Lourdes awaited a reserve force to bail them out. Of course, she got stuck in traffic. I said I’d entertain you on my way out to the stables.”
Before I could say more, Leah appeared. “Shit. Oh my god, Lanie, I am so fucking sorry.” Leah appeared in her typical fashion—with a big entrance. “Auntie, thanks for entertaining our ingenue.”
“Oh, anytime for Danna’s daughter,” The Queen rose to hug and kiss Leah on the cheek. “How are the babies?”
“They are little devils despite being sick. I am so over it and so behind on production stuff. I called Papa and pleaded with him to help bail us out.”
“That would be good for Georgie. Don’t feel bad.”
The Queen spoke of her twin, Prince George.
He had been the Prince of Wales until he stepped down to marry Leah’s father, Patrick Roughy.
Their family was lovely if not colorful.
My mother and father knew the Lyons-Roughys for political reasons.
They settled in southwest Michigan on the Lake, raising Leah about an hour and a half from where our family farm sat.
It was a small world. Leah sounded more like me than her aunt, but she could put on a fabulous English accent. She was a chameleon.
“Well, I will let you get to the barn,” Leah said. “Thanks again for letting me abuse the privilege.”
“Oh, anytime.” The Queen’s tone with her niece warmed my heart. She, too, was a proud aunt. “Give your mother my best, darling.”
“I will,” I agreed. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”
The Queen departed and Leah shook her head. “Apologies for looking like a hot mess. I slept with two kids kicking me in the face.”
I snickered. “It’s totally fine.”
She looked perfect as ever. I didn’t think Leah ever had a bad day. She was a bombshell.
“Alright, so, come with me. This is related to Annie. I wanted to show you the dress archive we have and show you the tiara we’re recreating—much to the chagrin of the network. I will pay for it if I must, but I’m getting fucking tired.”
I snickered. “Really? You have clothes here?”
“So, Lady Ruth—Annie—was my great-great-great-somehow great-grandmother. My grandmother was able to get several things back at auction from the estate. It went to her half-brothers and then they auctioned them off when they ran the place into the ground. Her parents bought her the Lady Ruth Tiara back and she chased down several historic dresses she wore to balls at court. Annie—the real Annie—was fabulous.”
My character, Lady Ruth Anne, was called Annie. Annie was born the daughter of a wealthy Chicago industrialist, but was sold off to an Earl by her parents only days after her eighteenth birthday. I knew she was related to the monarchy somehow, but I never put two and two together.
“So cool,” I said. “Thanks for inviting me.”
“The costumers are recreating a few of these dresses, but I find it important to sort of get in the head of these characters, so I thought I’d offer. Really, Delanie, I am so excited for you to have the role. You’re so great and the studio thought the same. Viewers loved you.”
“I am so grateful for the opportunity, Leah. Thanks. I’m honored.”
We stepped into a room I remembered from when I last visited. It held a piano usually. Today, it housed an assortment of dresses and two women attended it.
“Delanie Delphine, this is Christine, one of my aunt’s dressers. And this is Beatrice, the Palace’s clothing historian. She manages the royal collection and all the dresses on display.”
“We’re going to have these out at St. James’s Palace next year,” Beatrice said.
“Awesome. Thanks for having me,” I said.
The dresses were breathtaking. The trains, decorations, and beautiful fabric were, indeed, fit for a queen.
“What do you think?” Leah asked.
“They’re amazing. But they are more vibrant than I expected. Apart from the white one. Is that from her wedding?”
“That is the gown she wore to coronation of my many greats grandmother. So cool, right?”
“Amazing,” I murmured. “She was so tiny. My god!”
“She was. It makes sense because my grandmother was a slight woman. She could command a room, but she was short. Grandfather was tall but even my Papa didn’t get his full height.”
“And this is the most beautiful thing,” Leah said. “Lady Ruth’s tiara. My grandmother wore it on her wedding day, as did my aunts—when Aunt Natalie wed Uncle Ed and when Aunt Kiersten married Uncle Olav.”
Leah’s Aunt Kiersten was now Queen of Norway. I felt as though I’d peered through a sheet few got to see. She was an insider, but I wasn’t worthy. Though inhabiting the world as a guest in real life, I owned it while playing Annie. To be successful, I needed to get in her head.
I walked the room, thinking about the enormity of these beautiful dresses and the history they held.
Did these artifacts exist for our family?
Or, had Baz’s idiot father destroyed them?
Could we get them back? Were there pieces of jewelry he stole from us, too?
I know my mother’s family tiara had gone to Baz’s family.
It killed her to part with it. It was her wedding tiara. She looked so beautiful in it.
“It’s a substantial piece,” I looked the tiara over. “And worn by so many, it’s very special.”
“I wore this, too,” Leah said. “It’s heavy—but not as heavy as some of the others my aunt can lend me.”
“So, you’re going to try to let me wear a recreation?” I asked, a bit gleeful.
“I am. Auntie was going to let me borrow it since it’s part of her private collection, but we were told no by the lawyers,” Leah laughed.
“Unfortunately, it’s a conflict of interest,” Beatrice said.
“A shame,” Christine added, “because it doesn’t get much use and is part of the history.”
“But there is spice,” I giggled. “Scandalous spice.”
“Yes. When sex is on the screen, it’s too much for the bloody sensors,” Leah giggled.
“Oh well. I love it. It was so fun to get to wear it once. I felt so special. It was nice to have my fathers give me away and feel somehow connected. I’m in and I’m out, but this made me feel like I was still there with my grandmother somehow.
She would have been glad to see me happy and wearing her favorite tiara. ”
“You should have,” I said.
“The provenance of this is interesting,” Beatrice said.
“It was commissioned by Annie’s father upon her engagement to the Earl of Dwyfor.
So, it was part of the dowry. She was quite a beauty and the photos you see of her probably reflect it.
But there is a lovely portrait of her at the National Gallery. That was from her wedding day.”
“Check it out. She was gorgeous—like you—but so young. My God!” Leah shook her head. “Thankfully, we won’t have an actual eighteen-year-old going to bed with a man more than a decade her senior. But she was very young.”
“It’s fine,” I joked. “I prefer older men anyhow. But Jesus. Getting engaged at seventeen sounds horrid!”
“It was said her mother was the one who really forced the match,” Beatrice said. “Her father was tearful and nervous on the wedding day. Many fathers get that way, of course.”
“My fathers both blubbered,” Leah said. “And it was our second time doing it—the first time we just went to the courthouse. But they still lost it.”
It hit me with a pang of guilt. I’d never get to see my father get choked up on my wedding day.
I remembered seeing my own father worried when Daphne married her charlatan of an ex more than a decade before.
I struggled more than I ever anticipated on the day she wed Cal.
Dad would have died and gone to heaven to know they’d found their way to one another.
And he would have been the biggest sap. We lost him too soon.
He’d never see any of us get married. I missed him so much in that moment.
I also wanted to know about the history of our family—the stuff Mum refused to discuss.
I wondered about the tiara she longed for.
I wanted to know more. Unfortunately, since Baz still had no idea who I was, I couldn’t exactly ask him.
I’d have to do some research on Lady Ruth and Lady Danna Carlisle and her relatives independently. It was all prep for my role, right?
BAZ
“I’m on his shit list again,” I sighed. “And he wants me to come home. Alex is guilting me about it. You know how it is with him. Alex swears he’s just about to die. I doubt it, though. He pulled this before. Unfortunately, he was still very much alive.”
I sat in the club level of my father’s football club with Caleb.
We spent the afternoon and evening in the owner’s box.
The Exham Dyers would play tonight against Spurs, their lead rival and trap team.
It was high time to drink and take advantage of a pre-game meal served by some celebrity chef we hired for a London Derby for the ages. No doubt we’d lose.
“What is the issue then?” Caleb asked. “What now? Isn’t he always on you about your lack of wife and kids?”
“He swears he’s about to disinherit me,” I said.
My phone buzzed—in Caleb’s view. Lanie’s name came up on the caller ID. Shit!
“You gonna get that?” Caleb asked, eyebrow raised.
“Uh… I’m good.” I lied.
Part of me wished she was booty calling me, but I wasn’t about to get into that with Caleb.
“She hasn’t rung me,” Caleb said. “You win?”
“For now. I suspect we will all lose in the end,” I said.
“I’m not cross. You can answer it.”
A text appeared.
LANIE
Can you please call me? I’m desperate and everyone else is out of town.
Desperate. Well, that was a word I fancied from her pretty lips.
“Ring her or you’re going to annoy me,” Caleb said. “It will ruin the whole evening. And if you want to invite her around and she’s not bothered, that’s fine. I spent the last week chatting up that French girl.”
“Alright,” I groaned, walking to the edge of the box.
Around me, some business associates milled.
Lanie picked up.
“Sorry to bother you, but I’m stranded,” she said.
“Where? And how can I help you? Lanie, I’m busy this afternoon and evening.”
“Oh, sorry, do you have a date?” She asked flatly.
“Would that bother you?” I asked.
“You’d love me to say yes, but no. Can you send me a car?”
“What?”
“Everyone is elsewhere and I can’t get ahold of my brother or sister in-law.”
“You’ve got no backup plan?”
“Don’t get angry with me when it’s my sister’s fault this happened to begin with. I’m stuck. If you’re busy, just send the car. I will make it up to you. Everyone at my house decided to go to Paris for the weekend. Bitches! And I am stranded.”
“Where? Here in London? There aren’t taxis?”
“The bloody M4. I’m near Brentford.”
“Why are you on the M4?”
“Well, my sister lost her good cars in the divorce. Her husband is a dick. Anyhow, I have this old Porsche. It’s been making this noise, but I think it just died for good. I can turn it on, but like I’ve lost the ability to shift. I am afraid to take a dodgy minicab out here.”
“Don’t do that,” I said. “I can send my driver.”
“Thank you!” Lanie sighed in relief.
“Oh, I will make you pay for that favor, love. I assure you.”
“I will let you fuck me. Promise. But it’s dark and I need to get away from here. I am not hitchhiking.”
“No, no. I will send my driver. Are you at least safe to stay there?”
“Yes,” she said. “I owe you, Baz. Thank you.”
“I will ring you later. Text me when you get home.”
“I will. I’ll drop you a pin with my location.”
“Great.”
She hung up and pinged me her current location, which I relayed to my driver before I returned to my seat.
“Everything alright or are you leaving your own match to see her?” Caleb teased.
“No,” I said. “I’m staying. She got stranded. Something about her sister’s Porsche dying on the M4. She sounded genuinely upset. I get the feeling she doesn’t drive a lot.”
“Why was she on the bloody M4?”
“I haven’t a clue.”
“And you’re just swooping in to save her?”
I shrugged.
“You’re fucking obsessed with her, Baz,” Caleb said. “What is wrong with you?”
“And you weren’t?”
“Nah. I liked her. A lot. She was fun. But to you, this is something else.”
“I like the chase,” I shrugged.
“It’s more than that. You should take her home to your father and say you’re going to marry her. You don’t have to mean it, but if he sees her, he’ll believe she’d fit right in.”
I laughed. “You give her more credit than she deserves. She absolutely would not. She’s painfully American.”
“She’s beautiful. He’d buy that you were smitten with some hot young thing with a cute accent.”
I shrugged. “Maybe, but it seems too incredible.”
“You wanting her is about as credible as anything.”
“I’m not fucking in love with her, Caleb. Calm down. I find her entertaining.”
“Uh-huh. Enough that you brought her to Vesper and left after like ninety minutes last night?”
“How did you—”
“I heard from Johnny. I have my spies, too. He said you came in with a redhead last night. Look, just admit it. She’s got you over a barrel. Don’t fight it. Lean into it. Get your dad off your back. She’s a bloody actress. She could sell it. She also seems like the type to want to play the game.”
Caleb made an excellent point and she did owe me.