Royally Knocked Up by Pamela DuMond
Chapter 3
“Look on the bright side, Lucille. Nothing’s changed.” Mr. Philips lead me down a hallway on the third floor. “You’re still involved with Fredonia royalty.”
“Everything’s changed. I’m staying the night in someone else’s home and I fear things are worse for Nick. He’s been through hell since the last time I saw him.”
“Nick is probably catching up on whatever’s playing on Netflix this month. You, on the other hand, have come full circle.” He pointed to a bedroom door. “You’re back with Cristoph, the Crown Prince of Fredonia. You’re here to complete a mission. If you’re lucky, you’ll get it done quickly and be reunited with your true love in no time.”
I frowned. “Wait just one minute. What do you mean a ‘mission’? Do I look like a spy to you?”
He pushed open the bedroom door and gestured. “Yes. You polish up quite nicely but you still resemble Lucy Trabbicio, the very competent girl I hired in Chicago to get a sensitive job done.”
“That was a few years ago. A part-time job where I was hired to impersonate Lady Elizabeth Billingsley for a limited period of time. It wasn’t meant to be forever.” I padded into the large, well-appointed bedroom with Tulip on my heels. As much as I didn’t want to be here, I had to admit the chamber was soothing. The floors were white distressed pine, the bed large, covered in sea foam green and ocean blue down comforters and pillows.
I walked over to the closed curtains, pulled back one panel, and looked out on Centralaski Park. Snowflakes wafted down on this idyllic tableau of trees and pathways, a large icy lake, and a flock of geese winging against the torched, sunset-lit winter sky. It resembled the inside of a charming snow globe and it felt calming. But then I recognized the bright, harsh lights surrounding the prison in the distance several miles away, and the prettiness dissolved, my shoulders hiking back up to my ears. “I fulfilled my end of the bargain when I traveled to Fredonia, kept Prince Cristoph’s interest, but did not sleep with him. I survived an attempt on Elizabeth’s life, which at the time was actually my life. I did not marry Cristoph. I told the truth and stopped the lie before the lie was cemented into place.”
“Because you fell in love with his younger brother.”
“Because I wanted to do the right thing.” I placed the plate on a side table. “To be fair, no one warned me about Nick’s between-the-sheets history with Elizabeth.”
“We were too busy teaching you royal etiquette, how to walk correctly, and homogenize your vowels.”
“You should have informed me about their romantic history when you hired me. It wasn’t my fault Nick spotted me on British Air, dressed up to look exactly like Elizabeth. Sorry-not-sorry I fell in love with him. He’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”
“What if the best thing that ever happened to you was meeting everyone here in Fredonia? The citizens love you. The ladies have adopted you as their BFF. Royal Nana even gifted you her favorite oil painting. ”
“You mean the large portrait of her with the single chin that hangs over our fireplace?”
“Her favorite rendition. If she didn’t fancy you she would have sent the obligatory gift certificate to Pottery Castle and a silver place setting. Can’t you find it in your heart of hearts Lucille to do one last part-time job for the Royal House of Fredonia?”
“I’ve put that part of my life behind me. I’ve moved on.” I pulled open the closet door and did a double take. “Yikes! How is it possible all my clothes are already hanging in the closet and arranged according to color?”
“You owe that to one of the guards who transported your wardrobe here. Private Stevie Winterspear recently earned his certificate as a professional closet organizer.”
“He’s hired,” I said. “Shoo, Philips! Give a girl some privacy, please.”
“Don’t dally.” He walked out of the room and shut the door.
I pushed through the hangers until I found a long-sleeved Chicago White Sox athletic T-shirt, and my favorite running leggings—thick, black, and extra stretchy. I ripped off Cristoph’s robe, tossed it onto the bed, and shimmied on the tights. Finagling them up over my hips was a little trickier, but lucky for me, I was pretty flexible from practicing yoga.
“Your new part-time job, Lucille is—” Mr. Philips said from the opposite side of the closed door.
“Thank you, but I don’t want a new part-time job.” A few more daring hip moves, and voila, mission accomplished: the tights stretched tight across my ass, but god-bless-spandex and double-seamed stitching, nothing exploded. Next up, I needed a bra. My girls had been getting too much attention lately. I fumbled around in a bin in the closet marked “Unmentionables.”
“Your new mission is to figure out who’s blackmailing—” Mr. Philips said.
“Again, thank you for the opportunity, but I don’t need a new assignment. I’ve got enough on my plate.” I dug a sports bra out of the bin, wrestled it on, and pulled my T-shirt over it. I looked in the large beech wood framed mirror hanging on the wall. Other than the fact my hair was out of control, not too shabby for an overly stressed chick who couldn’t figure out if she was single, married, and — if the latter — which brother she was married to.
“Your new operation is critical,” he said. “I’m hoping you’ll say yes.”
“I’m saying no. This whole thing is wearing on me. I did not sign up for more missions. I checked the box for marriage, puppies, a cat or two, and possibly babies someday.” I grabbed a warm thermal athletic vest from the closet and shrugged it on.
“Did you, or did you not pledge your troth when you married Prince Nicholas?”
“You were at all of my weddings. Did you not listen to my vows?”
“Which wedding?”
“Any of the ones with Nick. My declarations weren’t all that different. You should have heard the underlying message because it rang through loud and clear.” I flung the door open and nearly tripped over him. “You’re hovering. I haven’t seen you in a few weeks and you’re hanging around like a gnat in the summertime, already driving me nuts.”
“As luck would have it, Lucy, you still have your job as spokesmodel for Friedricksburgh. We were thinking that would suffice as an adequate cover for your next mission. You could fly under the radar, keep things close to the vest.”
“And a fine, well-rounded vest it is,” Cristoph said, grabbing Tulip’s leash from the doorknob as she raced across the room to him. He snapped it on her collar.
* * *
Cristoph held Tulip’s leash in one hand as the three of us jogged around a lakeside path at Centralaski Park. The city’s largest recreational area was practically deserted, the pristine park quiet except for the whir of a helicopter circling high in the skies above us.
We ran silently past a young couple making out on a park bench close to the frozen lake. A disheveled man hummed to himself as he rooted about in a recycling can, transferring plastic bottles into his shopping cart. I worried about him—it was cold, not the best of conditions to be this down on his luck. I wondered about the marchers who had come out to support Nick and me. I hoped they were now huddled up in local pubs sharing warm drinks and enjoying the camaraderie of their friends. I glanced over my shoulder and saw the male and female guards jogging a dozen yards behind us, wearing undercover gear, the only tip-off being their wool/acrylic blend headbands in the signature purple, white, and gold signature colors. “I’m kind of surprised that the reporters aren’t out tonight.”
“Trust me they’re here,” Cristoph said, pulling a few yards ahead and outrunning me with ease, Tulip at his side “Perhaps in the helicopter above us, or more likely they’re that couple making out on the bench. The guy could have a hidden camera.”
“It would have to be a tongue camera.” I’d blown off exercising the past couple of weeks, and huffed and puffed to pull back in line with him. “His hands are still occupied—they’re all over that girl—but his mouth just came up for air. Jeez, I miss Nick.”
“Are you okay?” he asked. “Do we need to stop so you can catch your breath?”
“No,” I wheezed. “You and Mr. Philips are playing cat and mouse with me about what’s going on with Nick, as well as other stuff. It’s past time you let me in on the gig.”
“We’re being threatened, Lucy.” He glanced up at the sky.
I followed his gaze. The helicopter was flying lower, circling the park.
“The Timmel monarchy is being challenged. A despicable man has come forward, claiming he is the rightful heir to the Fredonia throne. He claims that my dad had a secret first marriage before he wed my mother, and that he is next in line after King Frederick—ahead of me as well as Nicholas.”
“Get out of town! King Frederick was previously married? Strangely, I feel a little better hearing that multiple marriage attempts run in your family. Tell me everything.”
“Dad met Lady Doris Pfeffenhoofer at the Messina film festival in Sicily. They were in their twenties, shared a love of cinema, and enjoyed tipsy discussions about their favorite movies. Their romantic banter moved into the bedroom. Late one night they binged on old movies, booze, and dares, that ended up with them trashed and stumbling into a politician’s office in the early morning hours.”
“That’s ill advised, but not a crime,” I said.
“When pressed, Dad has vague memories of reciting some kind of oath.”
“What kind of oath? Vows?”
He shrugged. “He doesn’t remember.”
“What kind of politician?”
“He doesn’t recall that either. He does remember that he and Doris spent the next week eating, drinking, sight-seeing, gambling, and fucking. You know—doing what people in their twenties usually do.”
“We’re in our twenties.”
“Exactly.” He stopped in his tracks and looked at me.
“Don’t cast those pretty brown eyes at me, buddy. I’m off the market.” I paused to catch my breath. I bent forward, and pressed my hands above my knees.
“I know that.”
“What happened next? With your dad and Doris, I mean.”
He jogged in place alongside me. “They got in a fight——she accused him of trying to control her—and she left Sicily. He tried to track her down, but she wouldn’t accept any of his phone calls. He went back to Fredonia. Sent flowers, gifts, cards, even dispatched a carrier pigeon.”
“Get out, he sent an actual carrier pigeon?”
He nodded. “So dope. But Doris never responded to any of his messages. Eventually, Dad heard through the grapevine she was marrying someone else and he dropped it. Then he met my mom, and there was no turning back. He didn’t want to go back. He knew he’d finally met the right woman. Do you ever wonder Lucy…”
“Wonder about what?
“A couple of years ago when you were pretending to be Elizabeth, and we were engaged, did you ever wonder—”
“We weren’t really engaged.”
“You might not have been ‘really engaged.’ However, I was.”
My hand flew to my lips. “I thought it was just a business deal. An arrangement between Elizabeth’s family and yours.”
“It started off that way. Somewhere along the line, I don’t know where, things started to shift for me. I know you love Nick. But I’ve always wanted to ask you, but never really got a chance…perhaps this is a time that’s as good as any. Do you ever wonder if things had been different between us…”
“What kind of things?”
The helicopter’s spotlight shone down on us, blinding us. I lifted my hand to shade my eyes as our guards drew near to us, the male soldier drawing a weapon on the chopper.
The female guard communicated into her headset. “Stand down!” she instructed the other officer. He followed her directive, pointing his gun toward the ground, as the helicopter landed on a small, grassy area about twenty yards from us.
Tulip barked, her eyes huge, and yanked her leash and Cristoph’s arm, but he didn’t let go. I grabbed the leash from him, kneeled down, wrapped my arms around my trembling fur baby, and held her tight. “Shh, sweetie girl. It’s okay.”
“What’s going on?” Cristoph asked.
“An urgent matter,” the female guard said. “I’ve been instructed to accompany you onto the helicopter and fly to the palace.”
“Jesus, what’s it now? A coup attempt?”
“No, Your Highness.”
Cristoph turned to me. “The guard will take you and Tulip back to the townhouse and remain with you until I return.”
“Actually he won’t, Your Highness. I’m under strict orders to make sure the lady accompanies you on the chopper.”
The helicopter’s door slid open, and a familiar, wrinkled face popped into view. Her Royal Highness Marie Susannah Clothilde Timmel stared out at us, all hunched over, white hair poking out of a pink, knit ski hat.
“Royal Nana?” I asked.
“Grandmother?” Cristoph asked.
“Well, it’s not Queen Elizabeth. I organized this last minute chess game, and I need you, two of my favorite players, in place. Hurry up and hop aboard. I have to tinkle and I refuse to go to the lavatories in this park. They’re not hygienic and rumor has it they attract predators.”