Samantha
As we moved into April I was easing into the pattern of life as an almost-royal. Breakfast with Harry in the morning, sometimes early and hurried, sometimes later and relaxed. His valet would come over and help him dress for the day and then Harry left, usually for the day. I would meet with Eugenie when she was available for what I laughingly called "princess lessons," like I was that girl in all those pink princess books. And then I sewed or went to work with Driz, coming home in time to meet Harry when he returned, to talk over his day and have our time as a couple in the evening.
I was keeping a low profile, as the Queen had requested. So far Harry and I had not been seen in public together and that was fine with me. I was happy to have our time at home alone, without the pressure of the press and the cameras and the rest of the world's judgment on me. That would come soon enough.
"I think I should be taking notes." I said, flopping back on the sofa in absolutely un-princess-like fashion. Eugenie, laughing, sat down next to me.
"There are so many rules!" I groaned. "I have to wear pantyhose—stockings—nude colored, nothing bright. Pale nail polish only. Natural-looking makeup and hair," I ticked them all off on my fingers. "I feel like a show horse. No...being a show horse would be infinitely more fun. It's more like competing in a beauty pageant that never ends. There's no winner. I'll just have to get up every day and do it all again."
"You've already won," Eugenie observed. "You've already married the prince."
Eugenie, true to her nature, had been the first to ferret out our secret. The first day I showed up for princess lessons she took one look at my diamond ring and let out a squeal. Leaning close, she whispered, "Did Harry take my advice? Did you elope?"
I froze, afraid of saying anything, but Eugenie only laughed. "You don't have to say it. I can see it in your face. Don't worry. The secret is safe in this house."
I wouldn't confirm her guess, but I didn't have to. Later she punched Harry in the arm and called him a sly dog. He rolled his eyes and said, "I can't keep anything from you, can I?"
"Not when it was my idea to begin with," Eugenie told him with a grin.
Even now, after Harry's admission, I still wouldn't say the words. "Being with Harry is the only positive thing in all of this," I grumbled to Eugenie, but even as I said it I knew it wasn't true.
"You have to take the bad with the good," Eugenie said, shrugging philosophically. "There's a lot of security that comes with this lifestyle."
"You mean like Signe and Poppy?" I asked, naming the two women in my new security detail.
Eugenie smiled and shook her head. "No. I mean...you and Harry are never going to be out on the street or wondering how to pay the bills. No matter what happens, he's always going to be the son of the heir to the throne. And the family does protect their own."
"But I'm not really part of the family, am I?" I asked. "I'm an outsider, even if I marry in. I'm an unknown quantity. Like Catherine. Like Diana. Like your mother. Some of those fairytale romances didn't end well."
Eugenie nodded. "I know what you're saying. There are a lot of rules and traditions that you're expected to learn and to follow. I think the key to fitting in with the family is figuring out which of those rules you need to follow absolutely, and which ones you can bend a little. And in the beginning, you need to follow the protocol absolutely. Show the Queen that you understand this new role you're in and that you're not someone she's going to have to worry about. Let's face it: you're not a royal princess. You're not going to get away with some of the wild and crazy things that Princess Margaret did back in the day. And whatever you do, don't outshine Harry or Uncle Charles or Granny. That was Diana's big mistake. Whatever you do, do it quietly."
Harry returned from his duties earlier than usual that afternoon, so we had an early dinner, just the two of us. I was not much of a cook, and every time I stood in the kitchen at Nott Cott I thought about Meg standing in there, cooking Harry a roast chicken when he proposed. Not long after I moved in I suggested we hire a cook, so every morning and afternoon lovely meals arrived on trays, prepared somewhere else at Kensington Palace and delivered just in time for us to eat. I felt a bit like a spoiled brat for asking, but Harry just shrugged it off.
"You don't like to cook and neither do I. I'm busy and you will be too, soon enough. Let someone else worry about it. At least this way we get healthy food and we're not eating out at restaurants all the time."
After we ate we usually retired to the living room, sometimes watching TV together cuddled up on the couch, but more often we just talked about the future, with Harry slowly introducing me to what would be expected of me as a working royal. Tonight, though, he said, "Let's take a walk, shall we? It's a nice evening."
"Anywhere special?" I asked.
"Just around KP. If we stay on the grounds nobody will see us."
By "nobody" he meant anyone outside the family or the press. Kensington Palace was home to hundreds of people, many of them staff or retainers, as well as older members of the royal family. So far I'd only crossed paths with one of them—Prince Michael of Kent—who nearly ran me down with his car as he sped past our home, then gave me a dirty look. When I told Harry about it, he was distinctly unamused.
"Let's see how surprised he is when he realizes that he's given dirty looks to someone he'll have to bow to later," Harry said.
But for now we bypassed the Kents' apartment, which was next door to where Harry and William had lived with Diana, and took a stroll through the private gardens that were closed to the public. As we reached the path that led back towards Nott Cott, Harry tugged at my hand.
"Let's go visit Will and Catherine," he said.
"Now?" I said.
"It's not too late. The little ones should just be getting ready for bed."
We were already headed towards the 22-room "apartment" where the Cambridges lived, but I was still leery. "Are you sure?" I asked. "I thought you said that Catherine was really pregnant and miserable."
"She is," Harry said, "which is why we're going to visit and cheer her up. They won't mind. I sent Will a text earlier to make sure."
"And you didn't tell me?"
"I didn't want you to worry about what you were supposed to wear and all that."
I looked down at my thankfully clean jeans and t-shirt that I usually wore around the house and made a mental note to up my wardrobe game. If I was going to continue to be "surprised" by these introductions to various members of Harry's extended family, I wanted to at least look the part, even if I didn't really feel it yet.
We turned the corner into the clock court and Harry stopped, turning to face me. "I know Eugenie's been teaching you all the protocol and that's great, but right now...Will is just my brother, okay? Please don't curtsy or anything. It would be really awkward. We'll just drop by and see the kiddies and you can meet Catherine. She's been asking about you."
He took my hand and we walked on. "She's been asking about me?" I repeated.
"Yes. They both have."
"Is that a good thing?"
Harry smiled down at me. "It's a natural thing. Will is especially keen to meet the woman I was willing to take such risks for."
"Does he know? About us?" I asked, voice barely above a whisper.
Harry nodded. "I told him. And the Queen has told my father, so Camilla knows."
"And that's okay?" I asked.
He shrugged. "The Queen is dealing with it. I'm not going to worry about it and you shouldn't either. Soon—I hope—we'll find out what she has planned for us."
We walked up to a door that faced into the clock court and Harry raised his hand to knock, but before his hand even met the door we heard running feet and squealing laughter. The door was yanked open from the other side amid shouts of "Uncle Harry! Uncle Harrreee!"
George tumbled out first, Charlotte on his heels, throwing themselves at Harry's legs. Harry bent to gather Charlotte into his arms but George stopped short when he saw me.
His face serious, he walked over to me and held out his hand. "I'm Prince George of Cambridge. Who are you?"
Harry had warned me, but George was so serious I had to respond. I took his hand and did my best curtsy. "I'm Samantha from Canada. It's nice to meet you."
"I've been to Canada," George said. "I rode in a plane that landed on the water. Like this," he said, and he stuck out his arms and circled me, airplane style, making various engine noises and squeaks.
"George."
The young prince was stopped mid-flight by a hand on his shoulder, and I looked up into William's face. "Let's let our guests come inside, okay?"
"Come in, Samantha of Canada," George said, taking my hand. "Mummy's inside. She's having a baby soon, did you know?"
Beside me Harry started to laugh.
"You can call me Sam," I said, letting George pull me forward while William held the door open.
"That's a boy's name," George said.
"It can be a girl's name too!" Charlotte called from behind us.
George yanked me into the living room, saying, "Mummy! This is Sam. Of Canada. She has a boy's name but that's okay."
"Well, she seems to have the children's seal of approval," I heard William say to Harry from somewhere behind me.
As we entered the living room Catherine stood, much more gracefully than I expected for a woman who was almost nine months pregnant. George dropped my hand and ran to her side, and I resisted the urge to curtsy again.
"Do come in," she said, laughter in her voice, "and don't let the kids mob you. I've heard so much about you."