The Thrill Is Gone

There was a very good chance that she was about to make a complete ass of herself. Well, there was always a good chance of that happening, but at that moment, she felt it infinitely more likely that she would unknowingly do or say something that would lead to her being branded an undesirable by Prince Charles.

Maybe it was just the nerves getting the best of her, but she honestly didn’t feel up for the task of meeting Harry’s father and stepmother. She’d gone to great lengths to figure out what they cared for, what topics she should stay away from, but the days of research and endless calls to Lady Fellowes now seemed completely pointless. There was no way she could’ve possibly learned every topic of conversation to steer clear of; no one possibly could in a two week time frame. And as she sat in the backseat of the vehicle that Harry had sent for her, she obsessed over the very real possibility that Prince Charles would be turned off by her, that he would find something in her character that he would strongly dislike, and label her a most disagreeable young woman, whom was an unsuitable match for his son.

Paulina prayed that wouldn’t be the case. The Queen already disliked her. She couldn’t have Prince Charles doing so as well. Because what if that led to Harry having more Royal Duties added onto his schedule? What if they took an active role in keeping apart? Just the thought of that made her sick. She knew it probably wouldn’t happen, especially since Harry was so damn stubborn, but the fact that there was a chance – no matter how slight – of that happening, made her palms sweat. She needed the evening to go well. She needed Prince Charles to think her amiable enough to be in company with. If she could get that, she’d count herself lucky.

“Nearly there, Miss.” Alistair alerted her of their close proximity to Clarence House, snapping her out of her thoughts. “It’s only up the road a bit.”

She looked up, redirecting her attention to him. “Thank you.” Her voice was soft, nerves apparent in her words. “Alistair? May I ask you something?”

“Of course, Miss.” He looked at her through the rearview mirror. “Is anything the matter?”

“No, uh, nothing’s the matter,” she replied as she nervously played with the fabric of her dress. “I was just wondering if you . . . that is to say, do you . . . fuck – sorry!”

“No need to apologize. I’ve heard worse.” He paused, slowing down as they approached their destination. “There is no need to be nervous, Miss. Ask whatever you please.”

“I know this’ll probably sound really childish and lame to you, but I was wondering . . . do you think they’ll like me?” she asked.

Alistair smiled kindly. “I can’t imagine why they wouldn’t”

“Are you just saying that to be nice?”

“No.” He chuckled lightly. “In all honesty, I do not believe reason exists for you to worry. Prince Charles may not be widely regarded as the warmest of persons, but His Royal Highness is a sound judge of character. And I am quite certain that he will be very much pleased with you, Miss.” Judging by her expression, he knew she needed a bit more reassurance. “From what I’ve heard from members of the staff, His Royal Highness thinks rather highly of you. Just the other day, I was taking brunch with my friend, and he informed me that Prince Charles watched your press conference. Apparently, he commended your comportment. As was only right, to be sure,” he added. “You did a fine job with the press, a very fine job indeed.”

“You didn’t think I was a little snappy in the end? I mean, I know I shouldn’t have replied since I’d said that I wouldn’t be taking any questions, but I was just so frustrated. That damn reporter had been following me around for weeks, and then he was standing there, and had the audacity to say I was naïve. I was just so –” she threw her arms in the air, unable to properly express herself any further.

“I believe that reporter deserved the response he was given,” replied Alistair. “His accusation of naivety bordered on the inappropriate. No. I retract that. It was inappropriate and insulting to your intelligence. It was only natural that you respond to his inquiry. To have remained silent would have been unpardonable. Ah.”

“Ah?”

“If you would be so kind as to peer out your window to your right, you will have a clear view of Clarence House.

She’d seen Clarence House twice before, but on those occasions, she’d been nothing more than a tourist whom was wandering around London, taking in the sights. She hadn’t really paid much attention to it, having been too preoccupied in trying to take everything in, but at that moment, she wasn’t looking everywhere, she wasn’t trying to engrain various landmarks into her memory, at that moment she only had eyes for Clarence House, because she wasn’t a tourist whom was going to stop and look for a bit, and then move onto the next place where she wouldn’t be allowed in, she was an invited guest whom would spend her evening there. And that made all the difference.

When she turned to look at the residence, her eyes immediately widened in wonder. She’d known it was a beautiful home that much she remembered from her short wanderings by there, but it seemed much grander than she remembered . . . much more intimidating. Had there always been guards there? Or were those new additions? They had to have been there when she walked past before, she just hadn’t taken note of them, because it’d been a short stay, only long enough for a stranger to take a picture of her and Alfred, but now she saw them, and their presence increased her nervousness.

This was a royal residence. It wasn’t just an absurdly expensive home, a place where the wealthy lived. This was a royal household, where a Prince lived, where guards stood at the front to ensure that no one was let in without proper authorization.

Clarence House made Lord Fellowes’ home look like a shitty little apartment in a bad neighborhood, and the nerves she’d felt when first driving into view of Wilton Crescent were nothing compared to the ones that plagued her at the present. Why couldn’t Harry just be normal? Why couldn’t his dad be a doctor or a lawyer or a mailman or a teacher? Why did he have to be the heir to the fucking throne? Everything would be easier if his family was just less intimidating. That’s not to say that she wouldn’t be nervous. Meeting a significant other’s family is always terrifying, even when they’re normal people with normal lives, but with the added titles and guards and the damn press that were always around, it was enough to make her crave a smoke or at the very least, a drink.

“Alistair?” she called to him, nervously. “Is there anything to drink back here?”

“To drink?” he repeated. “I believe there are water and fruit beverages in the cooler.”

“Oh . . . I, uh, wasn’t talking about those kinds of drinks. I was wondering if there was anything a little stronger, maybe something along the lines of scotch or wine.”

“Unfortunately, this vehicle is not outfitted with alcoholic beverages. Prince Charles had the bottles removed after Harry had a particularly drunken instance in it. Not to worry though, the vehicle has been thoroughly washed several times since the incident, but since this is the vehicle that Prince Charles has at Harry’s particular disposal, he’s placed strict orders for the fridge to only contain non-alcoholic beverages.”

“I guess that makes sense.”

He could hear the disappointment in her words, and not wanting to let her down, he said, “If you like . . . well, this may be inappropriate, but I’ve a flask filled with a bit of scotch. I’ve no glass though to pour any for you.”

“I don’t need a glass,” she said, hastily. “I'm not grossed out from drinking out of it. That’s if you’re not grossed out by letting me.”

“Not at all, Miss.” He took a left, pulling into the gate where the guards stood watch, and after flashing his identification, they let him through. “Only give me a moment to have us properly situated, and I’ll retrieve it directly.” It wasn’t long before he pulled up to the front of Clarence House. As soon as he did, he pulled out the silver flask that Harry had gifted him. “Here you are, Miss.”

“Thank you, Alistair.” With a grateful smile, she took it from his outstretched hand and busied herself by unscrewing the top. The moment she had it opened, she lifted the flask to her lips, and took a slow drink, savoring its rich taste and relishing in the warmth it created within her. “That’s delicious,” she commented. “What kind of scotch is this? If you don’t mine me asking, of course,” she added.

“It’s from a small distillery from the area I hail from. It’s not really sold around these parts, but I’d be more than glad to fetch you a bottle.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t possibly –”

“Nonsense, I’ll have one waiting for you later this night.” He smiled, and then grabbed a tin of mints from the glove compartment. “I think these might help so no one knows you’ve had a drink.”

“Right!” she exclaimed, mentally scolding herself for not having thought of that. “Can’t believe I hadn’t thought about that, I would’ve walked right in smelling like scotch, but thankfully I have you looking out for me.” She popped two mints into her mouth. “Thanks Alistair.”

“No need to thank me.”

“Of course I do.” She handed the tin back to him. “You’re always helping me out, and I know I don’t say this often enough, but I really do appreciate what you do for me and Harry. I can’t even imagine how much crazier everything would be if you weren’t there to help us.”

“I'm only glad I can be of service.” He placed the tin back inside the glove compartment. “Miss Balcázar?”

“Yeah?” she stared at him, curiously.

“This might be impertinent of me, but I only wish to say that I do not believe there reason for your nervousness. You will, undoubtedly, be every bit as charming and engaging as you have been whenever I’ve had the pleasure of being in your company. Only . . .” he paused, unsure as how to continue. “. . . only remember to be sincere. Prince Charles values sincerity above all else. If you were to be most sincere in your looks, your words, he would surely think you the better for it. I hope you do not think me out of line.”

“Not at all,” she assured him. “You’re just looking out for me.”

“Precisely,” he nodded, smiling slightly as he did so. “Are you ready, Miss? Or would you like a moment?”

“I'm ready.”

Before stepping out, Alistair checked his appearance in the mirror, finding it necessary to make sure that his hair and attire were suitable for his employer. Harry never fussed about appearances. As long as Alistair did his work, he was pleased, but Prince Charles had different standards for the staff. Not only were they to execute their work to the best of their abilities, but they were to look impeccable while doing so, not a hair out of place, not a shirt untucked. The staff had to be worthy of the direct heir to the throne, and once Alistair ascertained that his looks were indeed up to par, he slipped out of the drivers seat, and opened the door for Paulina to make her exit.

The door was slowly opened, and when the early evening’s light poured into the dim backseat, she took in a deep breath, rallied her courage, and stepped outside. She was mindful of her breathing, focusing on each breath to keep her nerves from getting the best of her. It was absurd how stressful it was. She hadn’t felt so . . . so out of it since she’d met Joaquin’s parents, and even then she’d been more confident about how things were going to go, but as she stepped out of the vehicle, all she could think about was how everything could spiral out of control. She thought about the stupid things she could potentially say, the snide comments that the press had thrown at her, and as she thought about those, she couldn’t help but get a little angry at herself. She wasn’t one for being insecure. That wasn’t her thing. She liked being in control, being confident and knowing that she could do things. So to be on the other side of that spectrum was just unacceptable. She had to be who she always was, she had to be the young woman that walked into the Rhodes Scholar interview with her head held high and radiated confidence, she needed to get back to her usual self, because being nervous and awkward and terrified just wasn’t cutting it.

“You can do this,” she whispered to herself. “They’re just people . . .”

Determined to be herself, she followed Alistair up the path that led to the main entrance of Clarence House. Had she not been busy cheering herself on, she would have become further entranced by the architectural beauty of the home and the magnificence of its plants, but thankfully for her, she was far too engrossed in chasing away the nerves. She could do it. It was just a dinner. There was nothing to worry about, because if she’d been able to make a good impression on Senator Kennedy then Prince Charles would be no problem. And even if Charles didn’t particularly care for her, that wouldn’t be the end of the world. The only person’s approval that truly mattered was Harry’s. And she knew he wouldn’t break up with her just because someone else told him to. He was far too stubborn for that, and in her heart, she knew he loved her far too much to do that to her.

When they reached the main entrance, they were received by the butler, a stout man by the name of Gerard. He stood dressed in a fine black suit, his graying hair impeccably combed, and his face freshly shaven.

“Miss Balcázar,” he spoke, his voice surprisingly high for a man with so grave an expression. “What a pleasure it is to have you arrived at Clarence House. I am Gerard, the majordomo.” He bowed his head politely, not as low as he would have if he were in the company of royalty, but low enough to show his respect.

Paulina, confused as to how to respond, opted to simply smile warmly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Gerard.”

“The pleasure is entirely my own.” He assured. “If, during your stay, there is anything at all you desire, simply tell a member of the household staff that you wish to speak to me, and I shall be there directly.”

“Thank you. That’s very kind of you.”

Pleased with her polite tone, he proceeded to inquire as to whether or not he could take her coat, hang it up for the duration of her stay, but just as she’d finished unbuttoning her coat, a shout of delight erupted from several floors up, and stole their attention.

“Paulin!” cried Harry, gleefully.

He was acting as if he hadn’t seen her in weeks. When in reality, it had barely been a little over eight hours. They’d spent the previous night together, having gone out with his mates to celebrate his birthday, and when the public celebration came to an end, the young lovers retreated to a hotel room where they lost themselves in one another, in the sweet release that only they could gift, but then morning came and Harry found himself forced to head out to the traditional birthday brunch that his grandmother held for him.

In a perfect world, he would’ve been able to take Paulina along with him, but it was an invite only sort of thing, and the only person with the power to invite was his grandmother. And since the Queen didn’t particularly care for his girlfriend, she purposely left out Paulina. Not that that was anything new. Chelsy had neither been invited to the brunch either. Come to think of it, the Queen had never invited Chelsy to any private events or meals. She’d never met her grandson’s former girlfriend. She hadn’t cared to meet her. Prince Charles was infinitely more welcoming of Chelsy than the Queen had been, but even Chelsy hadn’t been invited to Clarence House. She’d visited Highgrove before, on two occasions, but never Clarence.

And knowing that, made Harry all the more grateful that his father had invited Paulina to their London residence. He appreciated that his father was making an effort to be so welcoming, especially since his grandmother was liable to never send Paulina a kind word.

“About time you got here!” he exclaimed as he moved down the stairs, taking them two at a time.

“What are you complaining about?” she asked, amusement present in her voice. “We’re five minutes early.”

“That’s still running late by my standards.” With only a flight left of stairs to go, he decided he could slide down the banister with ease, and that was precisely what he did. He made it down most of the way with no trouble, but then, well . . . then the decorative wooden piece at the end of the banister made contact with his balls, and he had no choice but to cry, “Fucking hell!”

Alistair and Gerard made a move to go to Harry’s assistance, but they stopped in their tracks when they saw Paulina sprint towards him.

“You’re such an idiot,” she said softly, struggling to keep from laughing. “Come on, throw your leg over.”

“Can’t,” he said through gritted teeth. “It bloody hurts.”

“Well of course it does, you just hit your balls.”

“Have some respect for them,” he spoke in a strained voice. “They’ll never work again.”

“Give them a few minutes and they’ll be back to normal. Now, come on, off you go!”

In a les than graceful manner, Harry dismounted the banister. He had to be helped by Paulina since he was still reeling from the blow, and in order to catch his breath, he took a seat on the stairs. It took a few minutes, but the discomfort eventually subsided, and he was able to look up, to finally take in his lover’s appearance.

She wore a fitted coral dress sleeves; it was something her mother had brought over to England for her. Her hair was left down in gentle curls that cascaded down her shoulders, and her make up was left light, there was nothing bold about it, it was done in a manner befitting the company, and he thought she looked stunning.

“You’re lovely,” he complimented, a goofy grin replacing his former grimace.

“Why thank you, Your Royal Highness.” She smiled coyly and did a quick curtsy. “Are you able to stand, now?”

“Able, but I fancy I should stay here a bit longer.” He shifted his place on the stairs, attempting to find a more comfortable seat. “Are you hot?” he asked, noticing her coat. “You must be burning up with that on. Didn’t they ask if they could take it?” he glanced over at Gerard.

“I was actually in the process of giving my coat to Gerard, when you screamed and hit yourself,” she explained.

“Oh right. You’d just got in.”

“Exactly,” she smiled.

“If you like, Miss Balcázar, I’d be very much pleased to take your coat now.”

“Thank you, Gerard.” She handed her coat to him and watched in silence as he carefully hung it up in the closet.

When he finished hanging the coat, Gerard returned to his previous position and addressed Harry. “Would you care for me to continue on with my duties, Sir? Or would you prefer to take over?”

“I’ll take over.” Harry stated. “Feel free to resume your work with my father.” Gerard bowed and took his leave. “And Alistair?” he called.

“Yes, Sir?” replied Alistair, staring intently at the young Prince.

“Feel free to take the evening off. We won’t need you until later on.”

“I’ll be in the kitchens then. Excuse me, Sir, Miss.”

“So . . .” said Harry after Alistair left.

“How are your balls doing?” she asked.

Harry chuckled. “Better, loads better.”

“You think they’ll be working later?” she asked, smirking mischievously at him. “Or are they gonna be out of service?”

“Like hell they are.” He stood up. “I reckon they’re in service right now. How about we go have ourselves a look?”

“Hmm, I think I’ll pass. Don’t really feel like messing up my hair so early.”

“It’ll be a right mess by the time I'm through with you.”

Her cheeks flooded with color, and she did the only thing she could think of, she playfully smacked his arm, and said, “Don’t say that shit.”

“But it’s my birthday.” He pouted.

“Well if you keep saying that, then there won’t be anymore birthday sex for you.”

“But you can’t . . . it’s my birthday, you can’t be – oh, alright.” He let out a resigned sigh. “But as soon as we’re out of here, I'm –”

“As soon as we’re out of here, anything goes.” She watched as his face lit up again. “But for now we’re here.”

“And you’re going to meet my dad.” He said, knowingly. “Ah. Bloody hell . . .”

“What happened?”

“I wanted to show you around a bit, but I just remembered my dad saying that we had to go to the parlour. That’s where he wanted to meet and then go to the dining room from there. That alright?” he asked.

“Yeah, it’s fine.”

“Brilliant.” He smiled, and ran a hand through his messy ginger hair. “Let’s go on then.”

Harry offered her his hand, which she gladly took it. They walked throughout the house in that manner, he pointed out at things he thought she might find interesting, and whenever they crossed paths with a staff member, the person would smile politely and bow their heads slightly before continuing on with their work. Paulina was in awe of his home, it was like a museum, there was so much history and art within its walls. If she could have a day to explore it, she’d be happy. Especially since Harry said there was an extensive collection in the library. Perhaps another day she would be granted the honor of exploring the library, but for now, she followed Harry towards the parlour.

Their walking came to an end when they reached the entryway to the parlour, the door was closed and there was a staff member standing guard there, a tall young man with a slender build.

“Your Royal Highness,” spoke the man known as Devesh. “Miss Balcázar.” He bowed respectfully. “His Royal Highness stepped out momentarily, but Prince William is inside, as is the Duchess.” he paused. “Shall I make the introductions?”

“No need for that.” Harry didn’t feel much like going through that. “I’ll make the introductions, thank you, Devesh.”

Devesh wasted no time in opening the door for Harry and Paulina. As soon as it was opened, he stepped aside, giving them leave to enter the exquisitely decorated parlour. It took everything Paulina had not to wander off and start staring at things. She was in a house that looked like what she imagined the insides of Pemberley to look like. There was nothing but beauty all around. But this was not the time to give free reign to her curiosity, and Harry’s leading her towards William and Camilla made that perfectly clear.

“You’ll be brilliant, love,” whispered Harry as they walked towards his brother and father’s second wife.

Brilliant? She doubted she’d be brilliant. At the present, she was just aiming for charming and confident. That was it. She’d love if brilliant could somehow get added into the equation, but if it didn’t, well, it wouldn’t be so bad, she could build up to being brilliant later on.

“There you are, dad just went out looking for –” a smile spread across William’s lips when he saw Paulina standing at Harry’s side.

“Dad will be in soon. I asked Devesh to fetch him.” Harry spoke. “But, ah, introductions seem in order. Yeah?” he chuckled lightly to himself, and gave Paulina’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “Wills, you already know Paulina, and Paulina knows you.”

“I'm glad to see you again. Our ginger here was beginning to grow restless with the wait.” William shot her a friendly smile.

Before she responded to his words, she uttered a quick Your Royal Highness and curtsied. “I hope he wasn’t too irritable while he was restless.”

“Of course I wasn’t.” Harry lied. “I'm always delightful. And before Wills gets a chance to soil my good name, let’s go this way. There’s someone important I’d very much like you to meet.” He led her to Camilla, whom had just stood up. “Camilla this is my girlfriend, Miss Paulina Balcázar, Paulina this is Camilla, Duchess of Cornwall,” he finished making the introductions.

“Your Royal Highness,” Paulina curtsied, smiling politely as she did so. “It is a true pleasure to make your acquaintance.” After she said that she mentally scolded herself for having said pleasure instead of honor. Honor would’ve sounded better. “I meant honor, not pleasure, not that it’s not a pleasure, I simply meant it was an honor.” Nice going you moron.

“You sound every bit as nervous as I did when I met the Queen, but let me assure you, your nerves are unfounded with me.” Camilla smiled, staring at the American with curious. She may have been dressed in fine clothes and may have worn expensive jewelry, but Camilla didn’t have the air of the aristocracy. “Would you care to take a seat beside me? We can wait for my husband from the couch.”

She glanced over at Harry who gave a slight nod.

“I’d be delighted,” was Paulina’s response.

Paulina took her place beside Camilla, and although there were a few awkward moments, the women were eventually able to fall into a comfortable conversation. Camilla had, like everyone else in the family, read up on Paulina, she knew her family history, her academic career and extracurricular activities, she also knew that the young woman was being hounded by the press, something which had occurred to her for decades, though in her case, there was more substantial reason for their pursuing her. Nonetheless, the pair got on quite well. They didn’t get on as well as Paulina had with Kate or Zara, and it was nowhere as well as she got on with Lady Fellowes, but it was easy to talk to Camilla. And Paulina was grateful for that, because if she was having an easy time with Camilla, then maybe . . . hopefully, she’d have an easy time with Prince Charles.

As Paulina sat with Camilla, Harry spoke to William in the far corner of the room.

“Camilla seems to be taking to her.” William commented, shooting a quick over to the pair.

“I hope that means dad will too.”

“He likes anything she likes. Don’t you remember when he took up pilates because of her?”

“How could I forget that? He pulled his back because of it. Couldn’t leave his room for a week,” Harry smiled at the memory. “I just hope he gets here soon. I'm starving, and knowing Paulina, she hasn’t eaten yet. Whenever she’s massively nervous, she forgets to eat.”

“Well look at you, being mindful of her habits.”

“Don’t be a wanker, Wills.”

“Not being a wanker,” argued Will as he smirked smugly. “I simply made an observation.”

“And I'm observing that you’re a wanker. Now get that stupid grin off that mug of yours.”

“So touchy,” said William in a singsong voice. “Maybe I should ask Paulina to come have a chat with you, I'm sure she’ll ask you to mind your manners.”

“For your information, she won’t. She only tells me to mind my manners when I'm being a prat, and I'm not being a prat, you’re being a prat.”

“Hmm, don’t think I am, not really, not at all.” William’s eyes darted towards the doorknob. “Someone’s turning the knob, you should walk over there, remember to be at her side, and this’ll all go well. Now off you go.”

“Wish me luck.” Harry said quietly.

Harry fixed his jacket, and then made his way towards Paulina. By the time it had opened, and his father had stepped inside, Harry was standing only a few feet away from Paulina. He knew that she was nervous about meeting his dad, and he planned on being at her side for the rest of the dinner.

As soon as the door had opened, Paulina jumped to her feet. She wanted to make a better first impression on Charles than she had with Camilla. She wouldn’t mess it up this time around. She was going to be poised, and confident, and would say that she was honored to make his acquaintance.

“I hope I’ve not kept you long,” said Charles as he stepped into the parlour.

“Not long at all, dear.” Camilla reassured. “And if it was long, I didn’t even notice. I was having such a delightful conversation with Miss Balcázar.”

“Were you? I'm pleased to hear it.” Charles looked over at Paulina. “Miss Balcázar, it is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance. We have seen quite a bit of you in the press, though I must admit that I am pleased to have you in our home. It gives us an opportunity to be properly introduced.”

“The pleasure’s entirely my own, Your Royal Highness.” She curtsied, careful to do it exactly how Lady Fellowes had taught her. “I am deeply honored to have been invited into your home. And I apologize for the photographers that followed me here.”

“No need to apologize, Miss Balcázar. One cannot help what the press does. They are a burden which we all share.” He took a seat, and motioned for her to take one as well. “Tell me, has there been any progress in your case against News of the World?”

“None yet, Sir, though I have been informed by my legal representation that within a week, we will learn if the authorities will proceed with a proper case against the reporter and organization,” she replied.

“There is no doubt they will. The evidence against them is insurmountable.” Charles commented. “It would be a gross failing of our legal institutions if nothing were to be done, gross failing indeed. I should be thoroughly ashamed if the incident was to not go to trial, but I trust it will. There is precedence for this case to move forward. We, ourselves, saw News of the World in court, and came out triumphant. The same, undoubtedly, will be true for you.”

“I do hope it is, Sir. I’d like nothing better than to have sanctions imposed upon News of the World. They are, in my opinion, the worst of the tabloids.”

“They’re vermin.” Charles agreed. “But no matter, justice shall be done. And if your legal representatives ever find themselves in a need of assistance, then have them contact Clarence House, and they will be directly connected to the legal team what was employed for our case.”

She was momentarily taken aback by his generous offer, but soon recovered and warmly thanked him.

“Has term started yet?” inquired William, joining the conversation.

“Not yet, Sir,” responded Paulina. “It’s scheduled to start on the sixth of October. That’s when my sleepless night will begin again.”

“But we’ll be taking full advantage of the days leading up to then.” Harry joined in the conversation. “In four days time, we’ll travel to Botswana.”

“Are you to be in London until then?” inquired Charles.

“No, we’re to leave for Torquay in the – did we say morning or after this?” Harry asked Paulina. “I know we talked about it earlier, but for the life of me, I can’t remember.”

She smiled warmly at Harry. “We said we’d drive out later tonight.”

“Oh right, so we’d have the full four days.” Harry returned his attention to his father. “We’re meant to go to Torquay tonight. I’ve really no idea of what we’ll be doing, since Paulina’s planned this, but it’s too brilliant, I'm sure.” He reached over, and placed his hand above hers, lacing his fingers with her smaller ones. “What have you been planning with Alistair? I know he’s sent Kamal over there to make sure everything’s alright.”

“I can’t tell you what I have planned. It’s a surprise.”

“But it’s my birthday.” Harry pouted. “Ya can’t keep secrets from me on my birthday.”

Paulina turned away, unable to look at him any longer, because if she did, she’d burst into laughter or say something inappropriate, neither of which would go over well. So she turned in direction of William, and lowered her face slightly, trying to shield her silly little smile from being seen by Prince Charles. But even if she hadn’t lowered her face, he wouldn’t have noticed the smile. He was far too engrossed in the expression of warm adoration that his son wore. He’d never seen Harry look so taken. Harry’s features were warmed to a degree unlike any he’d ever seen. It was as if his son was glowing, something that he hadn’t done since his mother passed away, but there he was, looking positively in love, looking perfectly pleased with his lot in life.

Charles wished that his mother would have been there to look upon Harry’s face, because he knew that if she saw him, she’d reconsider her opinion of the young American, because anyone that could make Harry light up like that, was worth having around.