Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Michael
He had to get Scottie out of here. They were crushed on all sides. RECO activists shouting down monarchy loyalists. This scenario? His worst nightmare.
He barked commands for all officers to clear the alley behind the shop and for their driver to get into position by the back door.
“Clear the way way—” Michael shoved toward the back where Eloise stood terrified.
“Eloise, I’m so sorry about this,” Scottie said as she was jostled and pulled from behind. “I’ll pay for the damages.”
“Lady Royal, please, be safe. I’ll get that blooming mob out me shop.”
Michael glanced back to see Lennox, then called to the driver. “Tru, we’re coming out the back door.”
“People…jamming the street.” A motor horn blasted over the coms. “Almost there.”
Finally at the clear, Michael pressed open the back door and stepped into the sunshine. The alley was an explosion of shouters and haters.
“Lennox, Schueler, have Lady Royal—” He glanced toward them. “Where’s Lady Royal? Scottie!” Forget decorum. Forget royal titles and traditions. “Scottie O’Shay, where in blazes are you?”
Charging back into the shop, he grabbed Eloise. “Where is she? Did you stash her somewhere?”
“Me? No. She was with you.”
“Except she’s not with me.” He searched the storeroom and the loo. Had she ducked into one of them to hide?
Back out to the emptying shop, he pleaded, begged to see Scottie pressed against some wall of clothing, frozen with fear. But she was nowhere in sight. “Scottie!”
Out the front and into the avenue, a swift river of a mob flowed toward the northern end of the faire.
“God in heaven, help me find her.” And when He did, Michael Cross was resigning his post.
“Michael!” A thin call lifted above the masses.
Scrambling to a lamppost, he leapt up on the concrete base then climbed the post. There. He spotted her. As he jumped off, Lennox and Schueler came running.
“We can’t find her.” Lennox looked panicked as she gasped for air.
“She’s in this mess. Slice through the middle. Use whatever force necessary.”
“Yes, sir,” and off they went. Michael cut round to the left where the mob had thinned. MP Fickle best hope Michael didn’t find him first. What a git.
“Michael? Lennox?”
He followed her voice. While the crowd thinned and peeled away, those that remained compacted, becoming a crushing force. Michael’s efforts to thread through from the side met a wall.
Another chant began. “Just like the quay. Just like the quay.” Fists pumped over the sea of heads. “Go home, American. Go home.”
“Stand aside.” Michael pressed in again, sweating, finding it hard to breathe in the airless space. On his right, a uniformed member of the Metro Guard appeared, armed with a truncheon.
Scottie, where are you? She was in this crowd. He saw her from the lamppost but where? At last, he spotted her, her braided hair a tangled mess, the sleeve of her yellow shirt torn. “Lady Royal,” he said, low and controlled, as he stretched for her. She screamed and jerked away. “Scottie, it’s me.”
With a sob, she collapsed onto him and without a thought, Michael scooped her into his arms.
“It’s all right. I have you.”
“So…scared.” Her fingers dug into his shoulder.
“I know, love. I know.”
In the distance, sirens wailed. Whistles blew. Instantly the crowd scattered, running in every direction until Scottie and Michael were all but alone in the narrow avenue, Scottie pressed against him, shivering and sobbing.
“Mick, over here… the motor.” Lennox motioned to a gap between the shops. “Is she all right?”
“I think so, yes.”
They said nothing as the driver sped their way toward Perrigwynn Palace. Scottie pressed against the back of the seat, every part of her taut and trembling, looking as if she might scream. Perhaps she should.
Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes and across the bruise on her cheek. Besides her torn sleeve and ratted hair, she’d lost a shoe.
As for Michael, he boiled with anger and shame. How dare his people treat Lady Royal Blue in this rubbishy manner. Banish the lot of them.
When they pulled into the palace garage, Scottie’s trembling hand eased a little and she looked more irritated than scared.
“We will not tell the queen about this.” She opened her door and stepped out, hobbling without her missing shoe.
“Lady Royal, I have to file a report.”
“Fine. But add in small print ‘Don’t tell Her Majesty.’”
“Scottie, you have a bruise on your cheek. You won’t be able to hide this from her.
” Michael slammed his door, meeting Scottie at the end of the motor.
“She’ll find out one way or the other. Reporters were there.
It’s all film-at-six-and-ten now. Phone videos captured nearly every moment.
Blast, Scottie, one of the staff could say to her this very moment, ‘Lady Royal almost died in a mob riot.’ Wouldn’t it be best if you told her before Perry Copperfield scares the wits out of her? ”
“I have a bruise on my cheek?” Scottie glanced in the Range Rover’s dark glass. “I felt something but—” She peered at Michael through glossy eyes. “What was it you called me? A stir stick? I make a mess of things.”
“Yes, I suppose I did. You’re the stick the rest of them stir. No one will blame you.”
“Who will they blame? You? What about them? The crazies and MP Fickle?”
“Doesn’t matter,” he said. “I was responsible for your safety. I nearly let Prince John take a bullet, and now nearly I let a mob tear you apart. Look at your clothes. They’ll investigate.
Unlike the event in Brighton, they won’t be able to keep this mob business quiet.
It’s the quay all over again. I’ve lost you to a near riot twice now. ”
“No, Michael, you found me in the midst of two riots.”
Michael pointed to the exit for the small garden, the one in front of his palace flat. “Let’s go sit. Rest before you see the queen.”
Removing her one shoe, Scottie followed him to the bench swing anchored to a large, thick elm branch, the green lawn under their feet, the fragrance of spring flowers seeping into the air. With a push of his foot, Michael set the swing in motion.
She fell against his arm and the ropes of the swing. “I can still hear them chanting. I’m not wanted here. My presence puts people at risk. Most of all me and you.”
“Never mind me. I’ve survived worse.”
She was silent for a moment, breathing deep, overcoming her trembling.
“You know, I hate when you dismiss me like that. Dismiss my care for you. You may be my protector when we’re out there, but when we’re like this, I’m your friend.
You don’t get the high ground all the time, which by the way, I think you’re doing with your mother. ”
“My mum?”
“Maybe it’s none of my business, but you can’t stay mad at your mom forever. Life is too short. Has she ever tried to apologize? Or do you like that you can hold it over her that she walked out on her husband and sons?”
There was a passion, a truth, slicing as it was, in her words that left no room for debate.
“I thought we came out to the garden to settle your nerves and devise a plan to tell Her Majesty.”
“What do you think I’m doing? Settling my nerves by telling you to make it right with your mom.”
He laughed softly. “She sort of apologized yesterday when we had tea. But in a backhanded way. Sorry she left but that’s the way it had to be.”
“It’s a start, Michael.”
“Why do you care, Lady Royal?”
“Because when you’re caught in a mob with people ripping at your hair and clothes and chanting for you to go home, you gain a bit of perspective.”
His gaze lingered on her face a moment. “Did your father teach you to speak your mind so boldly?”
“Yes, along with my grandmother, Shug, who is no shrinking violet.” Scottie turned to him, the swing still swaying to and fro.
“Thank you, Lady Royal. I mean it.” Just like that, his breathing became deeper, easier. Lady Royal was safe. “Purnell was all sugar. But she spoke her mind. She was on me to make peace with Mum as well.”
“I’m sorry I never met her.”
He nodded, catching a swell of emotion. But if she were, he’d not be here now with Scottie O’Shay firing off truths and wrapping another layer of his affection around her little finger.
“I want to go home, Michael,” she whispered into the silence. “I’ll tell Kate what happened and call Dad before he freaks out. That’s two mobs in two weeks and I need to be home.”
“For good? Cut your trip short?”
“I don’t know.” She pressed her fingers to the corners of her eyes.
“As much as Kate needs me, I’m not sure I’m doing much good here.
And I miss being the expert on my job. I miss my friends and Dad.
I barely know his fiancée. I wasn’t raised in this royal world, Michael.
” She landed a foot on the ground, stopping the swing.
“I came because she asked. Because Cap dropped a bomb on me about being in love with his ex-wife. Because I was curious and unsettled, wanting to try on the Blue name. But I’m not a Blue.
I’m the American stir stick. The title Lady Royal Blue is not for me. ”
“I regret calling you a stir stick. You’re using it as an excuse. The people cluster to you, Scottie. They want to know you. That’s the good of a stir stick. Why not sleep on your decision? Speak with your mother and your father. Then decide.”
“I’ve been thinking about it since I was swept away with the mob.”
“We should go, get you inside the palace. I’ll retrieve your things from the motor.
” Leaving Scottie on the swing, Michael walked a few feet then paused in a large drop of sunlight.
“I was eight when Mum left. Evan was six. We were the rope in my parents’ tug-of-war.
The way of the Crosses or the way of the Pratts.
When Mum left, I remember thinking, ‘A family can end?’ Evan cried himself to sleep for weeks.
I dined on morsels of fear for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
Yet I carried on, wanting to be the strong big brother.
Both parents worked long hours, so we spent a lot of time with our nanny.
Eventually Dad took a lesser position in the House of Blue diplomatic core to be more present for us. ”
“I get it, I do. There’s always been a part of me wondering who I’d be if I had my mom. Shug did her best as a substitute. But she was also the grandma who spoiled me.”
“Our grandparents loved us but were drawn onto sides. I gave myself to football and running round with my mates. The Cross PF Youth Club was founded and sponsored by our family in the late 1800s, so I had easy access to the pitch.”
“We are born into our families, Mick.” The last of the Midlands tension vanished at her use of his nickname.
“Rich, poor, common, or royal, it’s what we make of ourselves, and whatever God-given talent and reason He’s given us are the real tricks of life.
We must choose to be the kind of people we want to be. It’s ours to command.”
“Then don’t give up on us, Lady Royal.” Michael returned to the swing. “Give us boorish Lauchtens a chance to behave properly.”
“I don’t know, Michael. Maybe this is not where I’m supposed to be.”
“If you quit, they win. You don’t seem like a quitter to me.”
“I’m also not a fool. If Lady Royal was my future, I’d dig in, but right now, I need a taste of home.” She stood and without hesitation slipped her hand into his. “Do you understand?”
When she looked into his eyes, he was convinced they were the only two people in the world. “I daresay, I do. I believe your mother will too.”
“Thank you.” She rested her head on his shoulder, and suddenly the storm of the day seemed worth it. His heart thumped a little faster, a little louder, but he’d not shift away.
Just as he closed his eyes and pressed his cheek against her hair, a loud, piercing ring blasted from his jacket pocket. Scottie bolted upright, eyes wide, and pulled her hand from his. And poof, the magic between them was gone.
* * *
“Friday afternoon the Midlands Faire was met with a horde of RECO activists and other protestors over the American Scottie O’Shay.
‘It was like at the quay,’ a man from Midlands Garden said.
‘I tell you, that girl is a menace. Lady Royal, ha!’ Eloise Bright of Eloise Ltd.
claimed she was talking business with Lady Royal in her shop when a mob of reporters and troublemakers barged in.
‘It’s a disgrace how the RECO party fires people up.
My shop was a mess when everyone left, chanting their madness.
Lady Royal is a welcomed addition to the House of Blue and Lauchtenland.
’ We reached out to the Chamber Office for a response but there’s been no comment from the queen or the Family. ”
— Melissa Faris, Royal Reporter, the Morning Show
* * *
“I can’t believe I once posted I thought Hamish Fickle was hot.
What a louse. Why is he going after Lady Royal?
I just saw him on Tuppence Corbyn & Friends making an excuse for the RECO riot at the Midlands Faire.
He claims he had nothing to do with it, but there’s video evidence proving he’s a liar.
Midlands Garden, do not reelect him to parliament.
Anyone else with me on that? Lady Royal, I’m so sorry! ”
— @StefwithanF on Instagram
* * *
“I had a blast at the Midlands Faire. It’s a tradition in my family. Our own holiday. I missed the hullabaloo. What happened? I’m sorry I missed seeing Lady Royal. I think she’s beautiful and amazing.”
— GretchenGreen on Facebook