The Dark Prince

By Danna Kellie Bellamy Tayer Hernandez

Laura Calder's life is no longer her own and now time has run out--she must marry Andrew Easton--sweet, trusting Andrew who loves her wholeheartedly and is unaware that he is a pawn in his father's twisted fairy tale. Miguel is haunted by a sentence in Laura's note and when he finally learns the truth about her 'arranged' marriage, he sets in motion a plan to free her and also to reclaim his family's lost legacy which the duke harbors in a safe on his country estate. The talisman's messages have never been more specific and the bond between Miguel and Laura has never been stronger, but the duke's other demand may be the one thing that drives them apart forever. He wants a grandchild--not only as proof that Laura's love for Andrew is real, but also to prove once and for all that the gypsy curse has not come to pass. As Book Two in The Talisman Trilogy races to its dramatic conclusion, Tristan makes a startling revelation and a dark prince emerges from the shadows. But it is the duke himself who has been keeping the deepest, darkest secret of all--one powerful enough to rewrite history and seal the destinies of Laura, Miguel and Andrew forever. Their story will conclude in The Shadow King.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Danna Kellie Bellamy Tayer Hernandez
• Release date: Aug 5, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301705351

Danna Kellie Bellamy Tayer Hernandez

My name is (Danna) Kellie (Bellamy) Tayer and I live in Cleveland, Ohio. I have three children and two grandsons. My varied career path includes stints as a bank teller, a retail sales clerk, a U.S. Marine, a journalist, an administrative assistant, a flight attendant and romance writer. I love to travel, see live theater, read, cook, walk and daydream. I am a Sagittarius and my favorite shows are Fire Country, Virgin River and Sullivan's Crossing. Oh, and I love football! Plus I'll put ketchup on just about anything!

Book preview

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The Dark Prince

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Copyright © 2013 Kellie Bellamy Tayer

All rights reserved.

Published at Smashwords

ISBN: 0615777252

ISBN 13: 9780615777252

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013934924

Vagabond Press

Shaker Heights, Ohio

Cover Design by MotherSpider.com; Illustrated by Jennifer FitzGerald

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Dedication

To Jessica Quittenton

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Acknowledgements

Special thanks to my family, friends and fans for supporting me and embracing the world of The Talisman Trilogy. I appreciate your support more than you know. I urge my readers to contact me at [e-mail] and tell me your thoughts about Laura, Miguel and Andrew’s story so far. Also, please visit my website at www.kelliebtayer.com and watch for upcoming news.

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Table of Contents

Prologue - Laura

Chapter One - Bonds

Chapter Two - Contact

Chapter Three - Faces from Home

Chapter Four - Wedding Day

Chapter Five - Mallorca

Chapter Six - At Last

Chapter Seven - Punishment

Chapter Eight - Impasse

Chapter Nine - A Taste of Freedom

Chapter Ten - The Safest Place

Chapter Eleven - A New Life

Chapter Twelve - Confirmation

Chapter Thirteen - Evasive Measures

Chapter Fourteen - A New Goon

Chapter Fifteen - Prison

Chapter Sixteen - Beating Hearts

Chapter Seventeen - Shattered

Chapter Eighteen - Death

Chapter Nineteen - A Secret Revealed

Chapter Twenty - Prisoners of War

Chapter Twenty-One - Turning Tables

Chapter Twenty-Two - Beginning of the End

Epilogue - Andrew

The Shadow King - Prologue

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Prologue

Laura

They say the universe is unfolding exactly as it should, even though it may not seem like it at the time. My universe was tangled and confused. I kept seeing a series of befores and afters: before I sat rather reluctantly inside a psychic’s tent and after her ominous words unfolded in dark truths around me; before I met a prince and fell in love with his sweetness and innocence and after I met a gypsy and fell in love with him—mind, body and soul; before I knew what real pain and sorrow were and after when all I knew were pain and sorrow day in and day out. If my universe were truly unfolding exactly as it should, then why did it have to hurt? Why didn’t I get a say in my own journey? How could my life have changed so drastically in such a short time through no obvious fault of my own? But perhaps it was my fault that I had ended up here on this journey of despair. The psychic had said the words and I should have paid more attention: Your fate is sealed. Already I can see that it cannot be undone. It is what it shall be. That being said, you do have the power of choice. Always choose wisely but still knowing that your destiny has already been determined. The outcome will be the same but you have the power to make the pathway to your providence easy or difficult…short or long…happy or sad. Choose wisely. I had to admit to myself that I had not chosen wisely. I had made a mistake. And now I had to find a way to fix it or choke to death on the tangled mess that was my universe.

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Chapter One

Bonds

I never would have thought that my first time overseas would be under such strange circumstances. If someone had told me six months ago that I would move to London before graduating from high school I would have laughed myself into a state of hysteria. Everything about my life had taken on a sense of the absurd. I was in a state of uncertainty and fear twenty-four hours a day. But thank goodness for Andrew and Tristan. They had become my unwitting lifelines in this new world I was navigating. As long as one of them was near, I felt like I could survive another day. And I had school to keep me busy. For the first time ever, I actually liked school—liked being in the classroom and forced to concentrate on something other than the dilemma that dominated my life.

Andrew and I and his family were living in the Easton mansion in London while we finished our senior year of high school. I was attending the American School and Andrew was at the Royal Exeter Academy. The schools were on opposite sides of London so we each had our own driver taking us to and from school each day. And somewhere in the heart of London was the Queen Elizabeth Royal Hospital where Tristan went daily for physical therapy. Already his upper body had grown so strong that he could beat every one of the goons that made up the Easton security detail in arm wrestling. He was quite proud of that feat. I loved watching him arm wrestle—it made me happy in the strangest way. I had taken to doing my homework in whatever room Tristan was in. There was something about him that made me feel safe. The fact that he was paralyzed from the waist down and in a wheelchair for the rest of his life made no difference to the security I felt when I was near him. Andrew had noticed the friendship developing between me and Tristan and commented on it one day when we were alone in the lavish gardens behind the mansion.

I can’t help but notice that you and Tristan seem to be getting along quite well. That’s nice, he said as we walked along a row of pink and white tulips. The brilliant spring sunshine shone down on us—a change from the rainy, dreary weather that had dominated my first weeks in England.

Tristan’s amazing. I admire everything about him. I said the words rather gushingly, knowing them to be the truth—it was how I felt.

Should I be jealous? Andrew asked with a laugh. Even though he was making light of it, I sensed his insecurity.

Yes, you should be, I said with a grin, playing into his fears. Andrew had no idea why I was so close to Tristan. No one did. No one knew just how much I needed Tristan—more than I needed anyone else, except for the one person I couldn’t have. Tristan himself didn’t even know how he saved me every day from sinking into a depression from which I knew I would never escape if I allowed it to consume me.

Oh? Well, in that case, I think you’d better stay away from him for a while, Andrew said, plucking a tulip from the row and handing it to me. I couldn’t tell if he was being serious but I sensed he was. I glanced up at him and tried to gauge his demeanor. He looked serious enough.

Hey, don’t be jealous. I just feel a kindred spirit in Tristan is all. You have my heart, Andrew. You know that. Every time I heard words like that coming out of my mouth, I couldn’t help but question my integrity. I did love Andrew—truly I did. But it was a quiet love that I would have preferred to keep to myself. I was not in love with him as I thought I once had been--as I may have been if I had not met a certain gypsy prince who had my heart and always would until the end of time. But I was not allowed to think about Miguel. Just saying his name in my head was enough to knock the air out of my lungs and bring me to my knees. And that was exactly why I needed Tristan. Because fate had dealt him a blow much worse than mine—a blow he handled with such grace and dignity that I knew my problems were nothing compared to his. I told myself every day that I had no right to feel sorry for myself when Tristan was not letting his disability stop him from living a full life. So my heart was disabled. So it had been broken into a million pieces. But it still beat inside my chest, just as Tristan’s did. I was alive and mobile. I knew that Tristan had gone through his dark time when he’d wanted death more than one more breath. And he still had to fight those demons every day. I admired his spirit and spending time with him helped heal my heart little by little, enough to make it through another day.

I’m sorry. I guess I’m just feeling insecure. Sometimes you seem to be somewhere else in your head and I worry that you’re not happy here—that you’re missing your family and your home in America. He took my hand and pulled me to him, wrapping his arms around me. I felt his heartbeat beneath my ear and I listened to its rhythm and felt the rise and fall of his lungs under my cheek.

I do get homesick sometimes but it isn’t anything I can’t handle, I whispered against his chest. Why don’t we pick some more of these tulips and take them inside and find a vase? I could use some pretty colorful flowers in my room to cheer me up and help me fight the homesick blues.

OK, but just so we’re clear…you’re not having a torrid affair with my brother, are you? He said it so damned seriously that it was all I could do to keep from bursting into laughter. He pulled me away from him so he could look into my eyes.

You’re silly. There’s only you, I said, trying to mean it with every beat of my heart. Now let’s get a few more of these flowers and then it’ll be time for dinner soon. I need to freshen up.

The gardener will kill us when he sees how we’re desecrating his masterpiece, laughed Andrew, as he plucked more tulips from the earth. We took a half dozen inside and Andrew asked Sarah, one of the maids, to find a vase for them and put them in my room. I would have preferred to do it myself but, as Andrew had told me repeatedly, I needed to get used to being waited on. I didn’t like it one bit and I tried my best to minimize their duties where I was concerned. Being waited on and ‘served’ went against everything I believed in. This was just one aspect of royal life to which I was trying to become accustomed, along with formal dinners and the occasional public service commitment. I had only been here in England for a month but already I felt like I had lost whatever autonomy I’d thought I had.

Alone in my room, I changed for dinner. It was expected that everyone ‘dressed’ for dinner. For me, that meant a skirt—never pants—and a blouse and nice shoes. Every time I changed for the evening meal I longed for my mother’s simple, homemade dinners around our kitchen table with my dad and brother. Sometimes we’d have breakfast for dinner and wear our pajamas at the table. I missed that. I swallowed a lump in my throat as I fastened my beautiful sapphire earrings into my earlobes. These earrings were precious to me for they had been given to me for my eighteenth birthday—a gift from Miguel. No one knew they were from him, so I could wear them freely, unlike my gold talisman, which I had to keep hidden. I went to the massive closet and pulled out my carry-on bag where I kept my passport and other personal items and reached inside to the secret compartment at the bottom where I kept the necklace—my most prized possession--along with the note Miguel had given me the last time I’d seen him at Brenton Point. I purposely avoided looking at the note, even touching it, because it caused me too much pain. I removed the talisman from the small velvet pouch where I kept it and held it up to my cheek. I thought back to that moment in the airplane’s bathroom when I had felt the talisman engraving a message into itself…just one word…Miguel. But his name had faded now and the original designs had slowly returned—the crossed swords and the coat of arms. The numbers were gone now though, as if they had been rubbed off, but the foreign words were still there:

Royal Birth – Gypsy Death – In Darkness, Light

I pressed the disk to my lips and kissed it lightly, letting it linger. Sure enough, as I knew it would, it responded to my kiss. It warmed and glowed and gave me comfort. Even though I could no longer risk wearing it for fear of the duke seeing it, I still touched it every day and felt the assurance it gave me that all would somehow work out for me. It gave me hope that somewhere out in the world Miguel was waiting for me, trusting that we would be together soon. I had to believe it or else I couldn’t make it through the days. I placed the disk back in its pouch and hid it away in the closet, then finished dressing for dinner. My heart was heavy and I didn’t want to face yet another meal with the Duke of Easton but at least Tristan would be there, my secret reminder that I could persevere through anything.

*****

But even the talisman and Tristan’s presence could not prepare me for the announcement the duke made at the evening meal. My vision blurred and I had to hold onto the edge of my seat under the table to keep from falling to the floor. My stomach heaved and I tried hard to keep it together and not draw attention to myself even as the duke watched my every move and reaction to his words as he spoke.

We’ve cleared the date for your wedding, Andrew and Laura. I pulled strings to have the legal paperwork expedited for Laura’s residency status and to ensure the marriage is legal in both the United Kingdom and the United States, so there really is no reason to wait. I know you had talked about September 12, but that seems so far away—five months—much too long to wait. I think a summer wedding is much more ideal. Besides, doesn’t every girl dream of being a June bride? Your parents will already be here for your graduation ceremony anyway, Laura, so having the wedding the following week will be perfect timing. I already have the invitations at the printer. It will be a beautiful affair. Doesn’t that sound perfect, Andrew? The duke turned his gaze from me onto Andrew.

Before Andrew could respond the duchess spoke up. "Ernst…shouldn’t you have talked with the children first before making such an important decision? It is, after all, their wedding, you know." She clucked her tongue at the duke and smiled sheepishly in my direction.

Beatrice…everyone knows that a wedding is a family affair. Andrew and Laura may be the stars of the show, but we have no time to waste. There’s no need to wait. Don’t you agree, son? The duke looked at Andrew expectantly.

Andrew reached under the table and pried my hand away from the edge of my chair where I had a death grip on it. He squeezed it gently and glanced at me and then answered his father. "I do think you should have discussed this with us first, Father. Laura has already had a lot of changes in her life what with moving to a new country and adjusting to a new school and a new home. A wedding may be a fun event but it does come with a level of stress. She—we—thought we had more time to adjust before planning a wedding."

You don’t have to plan anything, said the duke. The staff will take care of everything. All you two have to do is show up. And that reminds me, Laura? If there is someone special you would like to invite, I will need their names and addresses by tomorrow morning for the printer.

I opened my mouth to answer but the words wouldn’t come. I reminded myself to breathe and I felt Andrew again squeeze my hand gently. He knew I was frightened of his father and as such, he’d tried many times to reassure me that the duke’s bark was worse than his bite, but I knew better. I finally managed to croak out a response. My friends…Lily and Gretchen. I would like to invite them and then just my parents and brother is really all..., my voice tapered off. The fewer words I spoke in front of the duke the better. I always had the sense that anything I said would come back to haunt me later.

Tristan spoke up then. Are you at least going to let her pick out her own wedding dress, Father, or do you have that already decided as well? I heard the warning tone in his voice as he stared the duke down, almost daring him to give the wrong answer.

The duke picked up his wine glass and downed half the contents in one swallow. He wiped his mouth with a cloth napkin and looked at Tristan. Of course, Tristan. Don’t be ridiculous. Your mother and Laura will take care of the aesthetics—flowers, cake, music, all the girly stuff. I will handle the logistics. Everything will run like clockwork. He turned his gaze on me. It will be a lovely event and, you, Laura, will be a beautiful bride.

I swallowed a lump of anxiety. Thank you, I said, barely recognizing my own voice. I looked down at my plate and knew I couldn’t possibly eat another bite. It wasn’t that I was full, but rather my stomach couldn’t handle much food these days. I had lost so much weight over the last few months that just before I’d left for England my mother had taken me aside and asked me if I had an eating disorder. I was horrified that she would think such a thing and I’d promised her I was fine. I knew I should eat more, but I just couldn’t risk that it might come up later. I placed my silverware across my plate as the signal that I was finished eating and looked up, catching Tristan’s eye. He gave me a reassuring wink and a smile and I instantly felt a slight lifting of the burden that always seemed to be pressing down on me. Oh, how I wished I could tell him everything. If only I dared.

The duchess pushed back her chair and stood up from the table. Laura, I think we should go into the shops and see about a wedding dress. How about after school on Monday? There’s a talented dressmaker about twenty minutes from your school who did the dress for Zara, Anne’s daughter. It was lovely and I’m sure we’ll find something perfect for you there that can be made to order. Why don’t we plan that for Monday afternoon?

That sounds nice, I replied. It truly didn’t matter what I wore to this wedding. But I knew it mattered to Andrew and his family so I would try to muster some enthusiasm for this shopping expedition.

The duke and duchess left the dining room then and Tristan pushed himself back from the table and rolled around to my seat. Hey, Laura…you ready for another chess lesson tonight? He smiled his disarming smile at me and I knew I couldn’t resist him anything. I looked at Andrew, though, in case he had something else in mind.

You two go ahead. I need to go have a chat with Father about the wedding. I want to make sure he isn’t planning some outrageous affair that will be more ostentatious than Prince William’s wedding. I don’t trust him. He turned to me. Laura? Are you OK with my discussing wedding stuff without you? You can join me if you like but I’m guessing you’d rather play chess with Tristan.

You’re right. I would rather play chess--even though I’m never going to figure out the difference between a knight and a pawn and all the other pieces. I grinned at Tristan and he shook his head at me. He knew my skills were pretty lacking but he was a patient teacher.

We left the dining room together and in the hall, Andrew pulled me into his arms and held me tightly. Tristan continued on to the library and I told him I would be there shortly. I nestled into the crook of Andrew’s neck and breathed in his scent. I wrapped my arms around him firmly and willed myself to fall in love with him again. In two short months he would be my husband—a concept my mind was not able to process.

"Don’t worry about anything, love. I know my father is domineering and demanding, but if at any time something is happening that doesn’t meet with your approval, just tell me. This is our wedding and we should have some say in how it’s run. At least he can’t control the honeymoon." He rubbed his hands up and down my back gently and tangled his fingers in my hair.

The word honeymoon was enough to give me a heart attack. So far, Andrew had been the model of decorum where romantic activity had been concerned. He seemed to sense my nerves when he would start to push too far and he always controlled himself. He had no idea how much I appreciated his respect. The irony of it was that if it were Miguel, there would have been nothing to stop me from being his in every way. I shuddered the moment I thought his name and Andrew’s arms tightened around me.

I won’t worry. I trust you. Now I better get to my chess lesson. I don’t want to keep my teacher waiting. I smiled a little wickedly at Andrew, knowing my words would get under his skin a little bit. He shook his head at me and kissed me sweetly and headed to his father’s office. I went into the library where Tristan already had the game set up and was waiting for me. I sat down across from him and already felt the comfort his presence always brought me.

Hey, Laura, said Tristan as I settled in and looked over the board. Are you doing OK?

The minute he said the words I felt the tears pricking behind my eyes. I willed them not to fall but it was useless. They slid down both cheeks anyway and I immediately felt incredibly foolish. Tristan reached across the table and wiped first one tear and then the other. Why the tears, honey? What’s wrong?

I stifled a sob and shook my head as I tried to regain my composure. I’m sorry, I whispered. I’m being a big baby. I should be happy, I know. I wiped my cheeks and forced a weak smile, but I couldn’t fool Tristan.

Listen to me, Laura. I can see how unhappy you are. I see it every day. You don’t have to go through with this wedding. You’re only eighteen. What’s the rush? He took my suddenly cold hands in his large, warm ones and held them tightly. I wanted to crawl into his lap and hold onto him with all my might, but I knew that wouldn’t be a wise move. I suppressed a sob and tried to formulate an answer.

We are too young, you’re right. But this means so much to Andrew. I don’t want to hurt him. And it would happen eventually anyway, so why wait? It’s really OK. I think I’m just homesick, that’s all. I feel a little…overwhelmed sometimes.

"You have more control than you realize. Don’t let my father bully you. I seriously wanted to run this damned wheelchair over his toes tonight at dinner. He really pisses me off most of the time. I want you to know that you can always come to me if you need anything--or if you’re scared or unsure. I know you have Andrew, but maybe there will be times when you don’t feel comfortable talking to him about something. But you can always come to me. Do you hear me?"

I pulled my hands away from his and sobbed into them. I wanted to get my emotions under control but it seemed impossible. I finally got up from my seat and came around to him and sank down onto the floor at his feet and leaned into his lap. He opened his arms to me and held me tightly. It was the first time in a while that I had felt a tangible sense of safety—that there was someone looking out for me. I felt it with Andrew, but it didn’t compare to the way it felt with Tristan. In many ways I felt closer to him than I did to my own brother, Nicholas. I’m sorry, Tristan. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Sometimes I think I’m losing my mind.

He stroked my hair and my back and waited for me to compose myself. Well, I don’t know about your mind, but one thing you are losing is too much weight. You need to eat more. You didn’t even touch your dessert and you barely ate any dinner. If I call for one of the servants to bring us some ice cream, will you eat it? It would make me very happy. I heard him chuckle and I looked up into his blue eyes.

Actually, ice cream does sound kind of good right now. Sure. I’d love some. I pushed myself up and went back to my seat. Tristan pushed a button under the arm of his wheelchair and within ten seconds a uniformed maid appeared as if out of nowhere.

Maggie? Laura and I would love big hot fudge sundaes with all the works. Can you take care of that for us? He winked at me and smiled at the maid who curtsied and promised two sundaes coming right up.

I truly don’t know what I would do without you, Tristan Easton, I sighed, letting out all of the pent up air that had been stuck in my lungs for hours. I smiled weakly at him and he pointed at the board.

OK, girl, it’s time for a chess lesson. Put your thinking cap on. I can’t wait to see what you remember from our last session. And with that, we played chess, ate ice cream and I experienced two blissful, stress-free hours. As I watched him trounce all over me, I thanked my lucky stars that I had Tristan in my life.

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Chapter Two

Contact

I had never spent any time alone with Andrew’s mother before so as I walked to the car after school on Monday I tried to calm the butterflies fluttering in my stomach. I liked the duchess though and I felt she liked me, too, so I sensed that this wedding dress shopping expedition wouldn’t be too awkward. My new, personal goon, Penny, opened the back door for me and I climbed inside next to the duchess and settled into my seat beside her.

Hello, darling, how was school today? she asked me sweetly. I noticed that she was dressed to the nines and I felt uncomfortable in my school uniform of gray skirt, white blouse and black sweater. She wore a smart suit in pale pink and dark gray pumps. Everything about her screamed money and entitlement and I felt like a wallflower in comparison. It must be killing the Duke of Easton that his son was marrying a commoner, but the duchess didn’t seem to mind.

It was fine, thank you. I really like this school. It’s a bit harder than mine back home but I like the challenge, I replied. I looked out the window as we pulled away from the school grounds and headed into London proper.

We’re going to a shop called Sources but it’s actually a front for a private dressmaker. Only a rare few are permitted to enter the private rooms behind the public space. This is where Princess Anne’s daughter had her wedding dress made, as I told you, and Princess Kate had even considered it at one point for her gown. We have an appointment at 4:30 with Catherine Neville. She is an exquisite dress-maker. I’ve asked her to have some sketches prepared and hopefully you will find one you like.

I looked down at my hands folded demurely in my lap. I didn’t want a wedding dress. I wanted gypsy rags and bare feet. Ooh, stop, Laura…don’t do this, I admonished myself. I had to stay focused on the task at hand and not let thoughts of Miguel creep into my head. As if I would be wearing gypsy rags and bare feet with him anyway. Miguel was a prince from the House of Braganza, the royal family of Portugal. But he would always be my gypsy. I missed him so and I didn’t understand why today of all days I was feeling the pain of his absence so acutely. Maybe it was because of all this wedding talk. I’m sure I’ll find something perfect, I said quietly. I knew I had to be careful or I would be crying again and I didn’t want the duchess to see any tears. I couldn’t handle trying to come up with yet another lie to explain them.

After about twenty minutes in heavy traffic we arrived at Sources. Penny pulled the car up in front of the shop and the goon in the front passenger seat got out and opened our doors. A young woman was waiting for us in the doorway. We entered the shop and I looked around in awe at the beautiful clothing. I could tell this was a very upscale store. The clothes were exquisite. I sensed I may have seen similar garments on the models in the fashion magazines I used to read on the beach every summer back home in Rhode Island.

Welcome, Duchess…and you must be Laura, said the young woman, looking me over. I’m Catherine Neville. She curtsied before the duchess and extended her hand to me in greeting. I placed my hand in hers and she grimaced a bit at the coldness of it. But then she smiled welcomingly and led us into the back room. I have some sketches and fabrics selected for you to look at. I think you’ll be pleased with some of these prospects. One in particular is my personal favorite—it’s a perfect blend of modern and traditional.

We sat down at a large round table where Catherine had laid out the sketches and fabric swatches. A young man appeared from another room with a tray of tea and sweet biscuits and set them on a side table. I was glad to see the refreshments. I needed something to do with my hands and I was feeling slightly hungry. The man poured tea for us and offered the sweets tray to me. I took two biscuits and laid them on my plate and immediately felt self-conscious about it. Something was telling me that the biscuits may have been for display purposes only. But I decided to eat them anyway because my stomach was threatening to growl and I had a feeling that a growling stomach was more un-princess-like than eating a couple of cookies. I hoped so anyway.

For the next hour we looked at patterns and material and Catherine took my measurements. My goodness, she exclaimed as she wrapped the measuring tape around my waist. You’re just as slender as Princess Kate…maybe more so. Whatever dress you choose will look amazing on you. She shook her head in apparent disbelief at the number on the measuring tape that to me indicated I was, indeed, underweight.

I have lost some weight recently but it wasn’t on purpose. I think it was just from excitement and all the changes in my life. I felt my cheeks warming and pinking in embarrassment.

We continued to look at Catherine’s sketches and finally the duchess pushed one toward me. What do you think of this one, Laura? I studied the sketch carefully. The dress was beautiful but…it was rather old-fashioned. I’d actually seen one I liked better…a more modern dress with a ragged hemline and a deep v-neckline. But I was unsure of the duchess’s taste. She might not approve. I had to remind myself that this was my wedding and I could choose whatever dress I wanted but I also felt like I needed to please her.

It’s quite lovely, I said. I did see another sketch that I liked. I reached across the table and pulled it from the pile. My heart caught in my throat as I studied the dress more closely. I knew why I had been drawn to this dress. It looked bohemian, like a gypsy dress, and I knew instantly that I could not choose this dress. It would have been perfect for another time, another wedding, another groom…but not this time. Actually, the one you chose is lovely. We can go with that one.

Catherine looked at me with a puzzled expression. Are you sure? This gypsy dress is quite stunning and it would look phenomenal on you. It’s actually the one I was thinking of for you. She seemed to want me to choose it and I would have…in another lifetime.

I’m sure, I said quietly. I looked at the duchess who was quite pleased with my decision--I could tell by her smile of satisfaction.

Fine, then, said Catherine, a slight frown on her face. But I think we can modify it a bit to make it more modern without losing its traditional look. How does that sound?

That’ll be fine, dear. We trust your judgment, said the duchess. We then talked about the veil and shoes and finally the ‘after the wedding’ outfit. That was an easy choice as Catherine brought out a sketch that the duchess and I both loved immediately—a royal blue, sleeveless, knee-length dress in a v-neck with tiny jewels at the shoulders. It looked regal.

I finished my tea which had grown cool and ate the biscuits in an attempt to quell the rumbling in my stomach. We talked a bit more about fitting dates and I looked away discreetly when I saw the duchess slide a platinum credit card across the table. I had no idea how much the dresses would cost or the labor to make them but I knew whatever it was, it would be pocket change to the Eastons.

We said our thank yous and good-byes and headed out to the car. As we stepped outside the shop onto the sidewalk I took a moment to breathe in the warm spring air. In spite of the fact that the London smog was rather overpowering, I still reveled in the warmth from the sun. The sidewalks were crowded with people hurrying about after work and school. I glanced across the street distractedly as I was about to get inside the car. A flash of black caught my eye. As I ducked my head into the car, I saw someone familiar across the street—a face in the crowd. He was standing on the corner looking