Nick’s eyes filled with tears. “All this time,” he marveled, “and it never occurred to me that there was another choice besides go public, or don’t. I…I’m afraid I don’t know what to say.”
Richard heaved a giant sigh. “That’s partly why I said nothing at all for so long,” he said. “The first thing I felt about all this was utter agony that I could have lived such a different life. Been a different person, made different choices.”
“Me too.”
“But neither do I hate the person I am, or what my choices have led to,” Richard said, more gently.
This time, Nick smiled a little. “Me too,” he said. “Again. But if I feel this betrayed at having the wrong life thrust upon me, how can I keep quiet and thrust the wrong life on my own children?”
“It’s a lot to contemplate,” Richard agreed. “But I meant it. You are not bound by my decision. I won’t trap you in this life, in this lie. I won’t deprive you of choice.”
Nick wrestled with what to say for long enough that I interjected.
“Thank you, Richard,” I said. “This means a lot to both of us.”
“It feels good,” Nick added, choked up, “to think that we understand each other. At last.”
Richard stood, and they shared an awkward handshake that Nick abruptly turned into a hug. Richard seemed shocked, for a second, and then relaxed into it and patted his son’s back. They pulled apart, and Richard turned to include me.
“We have a wedding to celebrate,” he said. “Sleep. Enjoy tomorrow. Take that time for yourselves, and for Freddie. The future can wait at least that long.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
The wedding of the Princess of Orange and Prince Frederick of Wales was to be a two-part affair: first, a civil ceremony performed by the mayor in a very dressed-down exhibition space, and then a religious one immediately thereafter at the more ornate Nieuwe Kerk next to the palace. It was a lot to handle even with a full night’s sleep, which neither Nick nor I had gotten. My mind would not be stilled, and neither would the babies tap-dancing on my bladder. It felt like the entire world yawned before us, and I didn’t know where to look. Worse, Eleanor’s dark secrets, dragged into the light, had overshadowed the fact that we were about to encounter a massive shift in the relationship of the brothers to each other, and me to Freddie. Now that day was here, and we hadn’t done any of the work to get ready for it.
“Freddie always lived down the hall, or around the corner,” he said at breakfast, morosely prodding his uneaten sausages. “Even when we were fighting, I knew he was there. I feel like we lost so much time together over the last few years and we’ll never get it back and now he’s leaving.” He sighed. “It’s been generations since a prince of the realm has gone off to claim another country’s throne. What if it turns sour and he feels there’s nothing left for him back home?”
“There will be,” I had said. “We will be.”
And yet I, too, felt fidgety all morning, worried that this moment wasn’t getting the gravitas it was due, that we were about to let it pass us by like any other wedding, like he was any other man. I wanted to wish him one last goodbye, and put a period on the run-on sentence that was Freddie’s and my curious relationship to one another.
I’d had a little something made for him, so while Nick finished the exacting process of getting his military insignia right, I tucked the gift into my purse and told Nick I’d meet him downstairs.
“Takes me half an hour extra just to get down there,” I’d cracked.
“Try the scooter,” he replied from the dressing area. “It’ll change your life.”
Grinning, I scooped up my trusty navy suede pumps—I was not going to wear them a second longer than I had to—and padded down the hallway to rap on the door to Freddie’s suite. The valet they hired for him opened the door, then goggled a little before pulling it together and waving me inside.
“Ah!” Freddie said. “Het is mijn favoriete…duchess,” he finished lamely. “How’d I do, Jan?”
“Flawless,” said the kid.
“You’re lying, but that’s why I like you,” Freddie said. “Why don’t you head off? Bex can escort me downstairs.”
Jan bowed deeply and retreated into the hallway. When the door shut, I turned and drank in Freddie in his uniform, exuding a preternatural calm, and immediately burst into tears.
“No, no, none of that,” Freddie said, plucking two tissues from a box on the table and walking them over to me. He rubbed my back as I blew into them. “Although I will miss your honking noises.”
I wiped my eyes. “It’s stupid to cry. You’re only a flight away,” I said. “I’m hormonal.”
He gave me a sidelong squeeze. “Maybe you are,” he said. “But I feel it, too.”
“The crew back in England sends its regards,” I said, muffled by the tissue. “Even Bea, in pretty much those exact words.”
“She wouldn’t be Bea if she sent a florid goodbye,” he said. “I hope they didn’t mind not being here. But it would be harder to cope with leaving London if I saw all their faces today. Cilla said Gaz couldn’t even look at the invitation without wailing.”
“Yes, I think everyone agrees it was for the best.” I welled up again. “I’m not much better, though. I swear I didn’t come in here to cry all over you.”
I popped open the clasp on my bag and dug around for his gift: a tiny pin composed of two flags, the Union Jack and the Dutch tricolor one, crossed at the poles.
“I have one like it with my own flags,” I said as I dropped it into his palm. “Nick gave it to me a very, very long time ago. It always helped me feel connected to my first home, and
