Samantha
In the last week of January the number of texts Harry sent increased dramatically. Longer and more detailed, they came at all hours of the day and night. I was pretty sure something had happened between him and Meg but he said nothing of it, and even though I was desperate to know, I didn't want to ask.
Surprisingly, he did not send much information about our upcoming hunting weekend, other than:
H: Pick you up Friday at noon. Pack casual and dressy. Boots jodhs etc.
Me: I'm working till 4 on Friday.
There was a long pause of about 15 minutes, and then:
H: No you're not. I'm sending one of my grooms to work for Coster Fri and Mon. :)
Me: Thanks...? It was a question because he hadn't bothered to ask me, and even though he didn't need to earn a living, I still did. I wondered what Mr. Coster thought of Harry's plan, and what Ricky and Mr. Coster were thinking of me. Did they assume I was the prince's girlfriend? Did they guess our secret?
H: You'll still get paid the usual he texted next, as if reading my mind.
The more I thought about Harry interfering with my job, the more it upset me. When Mr. Coster came up to me after a friendly polo match on Wednesday, I had to say something.
As usual he slipped a folded bill into my hand, and I knew from experience it was probably £10 or £20—his standard tip for an unofficial match. "The gray's looking wonderful," he said.
"Did Prince Harry ask you to hire me?" I blurted out.
Mr. Coster stepped back a bit in surprise, then recovered his smile. "He put in a good word for you, yes. Said you had a good way with temperamental horses. And he was right. She's much calmer now. Keeps her head more on the game and less on who she wants to bite after."
I must have still looked suspicious because he said, "He wasn't the only one. Carolyn at the riding stables recommended you, or you'd never have subbed in the first place. And he won't say it, but I think Ricky was impressed with you that day you subbed in. While I value the prince's word highly, it took more than that to get you a job here."
"Thank you," I said, somewhat awkwardly, but feeling better. At least I had gotten the job on my own merit, not because I was sleeping with a prince.
"You deserve some time off," Mr. Coster continued. "Have a fun weekend hunting. Only for gods' sake, don't fall and break a leg or anything. The other grooms will never forgive me if they have to take care of the gray mare while you're recuperating."
There was a knock at the door of the flat Friday at twelve on the dot, but when I opened the door, I found Duncan standing there, not Harry.
"Hi..." I said, somewhat surprised.
"Let me get your bags," Duncan said. "We'll meet up with His Royal Highness on the way."
"Okay." I grabbed my garment bag and purse and pointed out my suitcase and boot bag waiting by the door.
"That's it?" Duncan looked around, as if I might have one of those enormous Edwardian wardrobe trunks stashed somewhere.
"It's only two or three nights, right?" I asked. "What else would I need?"
Duncan started to say something, then grinned. "Exactly right. What else would you need? I appreciate a woman who can travel light."
"Does the prince?" I couldn't help but ask as he loaded my stuff in the trunk—oops, the boot—of the car.
Duncan shrugged. "I wouldn't dare to say, ma'am."
We drove for about 40 minutes, me trying to make small talk with Duncan and he trying not to give away any personal information about himself. Finally, we pulled off into a parking lot and Duncan parked the car next to another one. Muttering "See you later," he hopped out, spoke briefly to Harry, and they traded cars.
Sliding into the driver's seat, Harry leaned over and kissed me, threading his fingers through my hair. "I have been looking forward to spending time alone with you," he said, his voice low.
"I feel like I'm in a spy movie," I said as we parted. "I keep hearing the James Bond theme in my head."
He laughed. "I didn't want to take any chances that we would be spotted leaving London together."
"I could lay down in the back seat covered with a blanket," I offered. "Or dress up in a gray wig and kerchief like a babushka. Or ya know what, the boot in this car is enormous. I could just curl up back there."
He laughed again and gave me a wide smile as he pulled back onto the highway.
I watched as he fiddled with the radio, seeming more relaxed than I remembered. "You seem happier," I ventured.
"I should be. I am. Much, much happier. Why wouldn't I be?" He gave me a long look, so long I wished he'd watch the road a bit better. "I'm off for a weekend alone with you, and..."
"And...?" I prompted, when he stopped.
"I wasn't going to bring it up so soon, but..."
"Well, too late now. You might as well spit it out."
"My wedding's been postponed."
There it was again, that weird fluttery feeling that gave me hope but made me cautious for feeling happy. "Indefinitely?" I asked.
"I think my grandmother set the date for September 21st. But I don't think—I don't intend—" he finished the rest in a rush. "I'm not going to marry Meg."
Now the flutter was a definite hearth-thumping sensation and I felt my adrenaline spiking like I was on horseback at the start of a show jumping course—excited, scared, and nervous at the same time. "Why not?" I asked, and my voice came out strange and scratchy.
Harry shot me a look. "You have to ask?"
I nodded.
"There are a thousand reasons. One of them is sitting right next to me," he said.
I looked out the window as the suburbs of London were giving way to more rural areas. These were things I didn't want to talk about, didn't want to ruin our potential wonderful weekend alone with the shadow hanging over us. "But you didn't break off the engagement," I said. And then, quickly, "Not that I'm asking you to. That's between you and her."
Harry swore and his hands clenched on the steering wheel. "If the Queen had let me, I would have broken it off. That was my intention. The most I could get right now was a postponement to the fall. But I promise you—this wedding is never going to happen. I am not going to walk down the aisle with Meg. I will do whatever I have to do to get out of it."