To Wed a Princess

“What are you doing here, Charlotte?” Eloise crossed her arms and stared at the brunette.

When she'd been told that she had a friend waiting for her in the sitting room attached to her bedroom at Buckingham Palace, she'd assumed it was Cardona. Instead she found Charlotte, fully dressed for her party, looking quite sheepish.

“You may have been ignoring me, but you didn't remove me from the guest list,” Charlotte stared at her warily.

“My mistake,” the princess muttered dryly.

She was also fully ready for her party, adorned in an embellished filigree gown with a v shaped neckline that went almost scandalously low. She hoped her relatives either wouldn't notice or simply wouldn't comment. Her stylist had left her hair down, but pinned the upper half away from her face so it wouldn't annoy her during the course of the evening, and secured it with a tiara – when could she wear one if not on her birthday, after all? In an effort to prevent the outfit from becoming too dramatic, she'd left her make-up light – it also helped her look younger. Her brothers had ensured her that after the age of twenty one, birthdays became depressing, and so she wanted to avoid agreeing with them by not prematurely ageing herself with heavy make-up.

“I like your necklace,” Charlotte spoke, following Eloise's lead as she sat down.

“Thank you, it's from the nineteenth century, why are you here?” Eloise never missed a beat “I'm hardly used to seeing you without the American attached to your side.”

“I'm sorry, El,” the brunette sighed, avoiding her gaze “I got...extremely carried away. Brian is a fantastic man and I thought he might make you happy. I became overzealous in my efforts.”

“I am happy. I don't need a man to be happy.”

“I know you don't! I just...I was so much happier when Richard came into my life and I wanted that for you,” Charlotte's pout might have been comical if it didn't make Eloise feel so guilty “I didn't realise you were so genuinely angry about the entire thing, otherwise I would've stopped.”

“I made it perfectly clear.”

“I didn't want to listen,” Charlotte admitted softly “I am sorry, though, truly sorry. I miss spending time with you. We used to have such fun, El!”

Eloise nodded, slowly, not sure how to respond.

“We did, didn't we?” she sighed eventually.

“Kick me out if you want, honestly, I wouldn't blame you at all. I have got a birthday gift for you though. A special one. I thought we could have a girls' trip. The yacht I have? We could go out on that – somewhere tropical, escape this horrid English weather. Just the two of us, like a holiday!” the excitement on Charlotte's face was infectious and Eloise couldn't help but warm to the idea – she did love the ocean.

“Kate, too?” she gave in.

“Kate as in...your sister in law?”

“Yes, we've grown close.”

“Of course she can come. Just us girls! Oh, Eloise, thank you! It'll be beautiful, you'll see!”

Eloise allowed herself to smile as she drew Charlotte into a hug. That was one stress gone from her life, and at that point she needed rid of as many as possible. She hadn't seen Brian Haner since the night she'd ended up with his tongue down her throat, and she wasn't looking forward to it, either. However, it was unavoidable. She could hardly just uninvite him – that would be absurd! What was the proper etiquette for uninviting somebody to an event, purely on the basis that you'd kissed them whilst inebriated? Eloise doubted there was one.

“I'll go down to the ballroom and wait for you to make your grand entrance,” Charlotte winked, before sweeping from the room in a blur of green chiffon.



Eloise had to hand it to her party planners – the ballroom looked magnificent, and the night was running more smoothly than she'd ever imagined. A photographer had been hired to photograph the nights events as they unfolded for her website and waiting staff seemed to flow seamlessly through the crowd with trays of champagne. The dancing had commenced when she'd waltzed with her father to Tchaikovsky's Waltz of the Flowers and she'd hardly stopped dancing since – whether it was out of politeness or because she'd genuinely wanted to, she had danced with nearly everybody before long.

She thought she'd managed to successfully avoid Brian, and even allowed herself to hope that he hadn't turned up until she'd begun dancing to Por Una Cabeza with Rafael. Then he seemed to appear out of nowhere at the side of the room, staring at her with an expression she couldn't quite manage to read.

“Why is he here?” she tore her eyes from the American as Cardona spoke.

“I invited him,” she admitted softly, never messing up a step in the dance.

Cardona nearly stumbled at that, but saved himself at the last moment.

“Why the hell would you do that? Have you listened to nothing I've told you about these men?!” she had to hand it to him, he was good at keeping his expression neutral.

“You look very handsome tonight, Rafi,” she sighed – it was true.

“Don't do that, mi reina,” he chuckled “You're good at flirting your way out of situations, but I need to make sure you know how dire this situation is.”

“If I didn't invite him, he would've found another way in. I'm taking your advice and keeping his face straight,” she shrugged.

“Well this should unstraighten it,” Rafael smirked as the dance ended and he tipped her backwards, in a very cliché manner, their faces mere inches apart.

She laughed softly as they both straightened, however Rafael's face fell when he saw his plan hadn't worked and instead of glaring, Brian was smirking and clapping. The American then glanced towards the band expectantly and Eloise's face fell. What was he planning? Then Billy Joel's She's Always a Woman to Me kicked in – the band had no singer, so it was an instrumental cover, but still perfectly fine to dance to. That bastard. All she could do was watch as he practically swaggered towards them.

“Can I cut in?” he raised an eyebrow almost mockingly at Cardona – as if daring him to say no.

“Of course,” Rafael grumbled, kissing Eloise's cheek (rather unnecessarily) before leaving her with him.

Time for Plan B.

“Guess this is our song, huh?” he joked slightly.

“You're back from America?” she smiled, placing her arms around his neck as his tattooed hands went to her hips and they began to sway to the music.

“Got back ages ago,” he shrugged “Saw you at your brother's party. You don't remember?”

“I'm sorry,” she gave a sheepish smile “I was hardly very, erm, well....”

“Sober?” he smirked “I'll need to refresh your memory sometime.”

She felt her cheeks heat up and knew immediately she'd given herself away.

“Perhaps,” she sighed – there was no Plan C.

“So, the big twenty two, huh?” was this his plan? Small talk?

“Indeed. I do hope I'm avoiding the wrinkles so far.”

He took this as an excuse to lean in very close and inspect her face, a lopsided teasing smile on his lips – his trip away certainly had cheered him up.

“Yeah, you are,” he said eventually.

“What age are you?” she tilted her head.

“Turned thirty three a couple o' months ago,” he replied “Why? It showing?”

“I think I see a few grey hairs,” she found herself teasingly tugging on the end of one of his long locks – he really was out of place in the room, but if it bothered him he didn't show it.

“Shame you can't remember the party,” he returned to the previous subject and she had to repress a groan.

“If there was something memorable about it, I'm sure I'd remember.”

The look on his face was a strange mix of defiance and amusement – it screamed “oh you little bitch” and she was sure that's what he wanted to say.

“I guess it must've been like any other night for you, then.”

It was her turn to glare – was he trying to call her a whore?

“Well, your impression of me is flattering,” she muttered sourly as the song ended “Have a good evening, Mr Haner.”

With that she swept away from him and towards her family – not missing the smug expression on Charlotte's face as she walked past...or how Brian seemed to avoid the brunette. Perhaps they fell out?

“Who was that, sweetheart?” she jumped as her grandmother spoke.

“Mr Haner, Gran,” she responded “Visiting from America – an acquaintance.”

“I don't recognise him,” her gran waved a hand with a small smile “Rather unique looking fellow, isn't he?”

“That's one word for it,” William mumbled and both Eloise and the Queen raised an eyebrow.

“I think it's wonderful,” her grandfather butted in before continuing, jokingly “Perhaps I should get a tattoo.”

With that any building tension from her brother was diffused and Eloise burst into a fit of giggles.



It was around 10pm when Eloise signalled for her assistant to announce it was time for the gifts to be opened – not too late, but she had plently of relatives at the party, both young and elderly, who were tiring.

The presents she received were predictable, but welcomed – first editions of certain books, traditional pieces of jewellery or clothing from whichever country the gift-giver represented, decorations for her penthouse, DVDs on subjects she'd mentioned she found interesting in conversations that had been held ten years ago. She was grateful, but when Brian Haner's present was presented to her, she was curious. It was a large, square, black leather case – big enough to house an impressive necklace. He stood next to her as an assistant held the case for her to open whilst the photographer snapped countless numbers of photographs. She lifted the lid to the case and a small smile played on her lips. A replica of Anne Boleyn's famous necklace – a string of pearls from which hung a golden “B”, with three more tear shaped pearls hanging from them. Nobody knew what had happened to the original. She was surprised at his thoughtfulness- had he really remembered her ramblings about history a month prior?

“A very impressive replica, isn't it?” she murmured, leaning forward to run a fingertip over the golden “B”

His next words made her feel as though she might faint.

“It's not a replica, ma'am.”

There were several gasps and murmurs throughout the crowd – of shock, disbelief and disgruntlement that their gifts had been upstaged by one many of them considered beneath them. Eloise felt her jaw drop. She pulled her hand away from the necklace as though burned and turned to Brian.

“This....This can't be...This is Anne Boleyn's original necklace? The one seen in her portrait?” she was struggling to form the words.

“I have contacts,” he offered, eyes sparkling “I promise you, though, it's real. Have it examined. Do you like it? I mean, you said she was your favourite historical figure.”

She knew she'd regret her next action, but at that moment she didn't care – she'd never felt more thrilled at a gift in all her life. She flung her arms around him and hugged him tightly. Even Brian was surprised – stumbling backwards at first before giving a low chuckle and wrapping his arms around her.

“I'll take that as a yes.”

A few members of the crowd applauded, whilst the murmuring increased and so did the snapping of the camera shutter. When she let go she gave an embarrassed smile before her family gathered round, all eager to see the necklace themselves.

“Thank you very much, Brian,” she said, still unable to believe it “I...I cannot repay you for this.”

“Oh I'll think of something, I'm sure,” he teased and she couldn't help but give a small laugh, too.



“You're giving into him,” Rafael spoke slowly as they sat in her living room.

“What gave you that impression?” she murmured, staring at the necklace, still in its case in front of her – could she dare actually wear such a historical artefact? It would feel disrespectful.

She still couldn't comprehend it.

“Tonight gave me that impression,” he sighed “You basically named your price and it was that necklace.”

“He gave me a necklace which historians have been searching for for centuries, simply because I mentioned it's owner,” she reasoned “How could I not hug him? I hardly agreed to marry him.”

“No, but the time will come.”

Her stomach dropped at how pale Rafael looked. How worried.

“I hope you know what you're getting into, mi amor,” he spoke quietly.

Suddenly all excitement and happiness left Eloise. She bit her lip and stared back at the necklace, suddenly remembering the grisly end its' previous, notorious owner met...all because of a man.