Spare Me

Chapter 7

T he evening progressed more or less as well as anyone could have expected. A baby started crying loudly midway through Appalachian Spring , but really, Maddy thought, that was on them for inviting children to an orchestra concert.

Maddy was fighting a very uncharacteristic impulse to beam with pride. Of course you should be proud, Maddypants , the voice she couldn’t seem to shake echoed in her mind. It was moving to see members of both countries’ military bands alongside musicians from the London Philharmonic playing together. The repertoire was a nice mix of patriotic numbers, a smidgen of film music, as well as classical pieces from both sides of the Atlantic. They were pulling this off, and people seemed really pleased, which, in turn, made Maddy feel pleased. As a military family member herself, she knew what these families went through, and to see them waving the small flags they’d been handed when they entered and smiling with each other buoyed her. It had been eighteen months since she’d really felt useful like this and, as much as she was glad to have found a new life for herself with the embassy, it also felt good to be giving back to the military community again.

After a brief intermission, Maddy had allowed her mind to wander just a bit. Mostly thinking of how to circumvent anything that could possibly go wrong at the champagne reception following the concert, but also glancing around the Royal Box. Ambassador and Mrs. Stewart sat with the twins between them in the front row of the box, Prince Alexander at Mrs. Stewart’s left. Sloane and Eric sat just behind the prince. Eric seemed genuinely interested in the music, his dark fingers tapping against his knees and his brown eyes watching the musicians keenly. Sloane was surreptitiously checking her phone. Maddy stood at the back of the box, near the door. There was a seat for her next to Eric, but she had been too full of anxious energy to sit quietly after the first half of the concert, so she had taken a spot next to the prince’s security guard.

They were about halfway through Gustav Holst’s The Planets when it happened. The slow section of “Jupiter” started, and Maddy was suddenly transported to another place and a very different time.

“Jupiter” burst from the organ pipes, and she peered around a corner. Evan stood there, his ornamental saber shining, his shoulders square and at attention, with a huge smile on his face. Maddy beamed, hiding behind the wall where she waited for her own entrance music to begin, the white lace dress cascading behind her as she grasped her bouquet of white flowers tightly. The wedding coordinator threw open the doors to West Point’s Cadet Chapel, and Maddy saw Evan stride forward, grinning ear to ear as he headed toward the altar. She looked up at her father, smiling through happy tears. “Are you ready, sweet pea?” he asked, offering her his arm. She nodded as the organ crescendoed through the climax of the music, and she took her place at the back of the chapel, ready to take her own walk .

In Royal Albert Hall, Maddy found her vision unexpectedly clouded and felt a lump in her throat. She silently started to panic. She wasn’t a crier. This wasn’t about her. But the music soared on and she was suddenly afraid she was going to start sobbing. Glancing quickly at the front row to ascertain that nobody would notice, she slipped through the doorway to the hall outside the boxes, thanking every deity she could remember that the box was separated by a curtain rather than a door, making her exit nearly silent.

As she rushed a few feet down the hall, her back to the box, she gasped for air, trying to regain her composure. How is this happening , she thought, infuriated. You cannot be doing this right now, Maddy. The time for crying was eighteen months ago and you didn’t do it then, so you sure as shit don’t get to do it now. For once, the voice was silent. The one time she might have actually appreciated it, it wasn’t there. He wasn’t there.

“Are you well?” a quiet voice broke into her thoughts. Not the voice of the ghost that haunted her daily. An actual, corporeal voice. One with a posh British accent. She froze. “Ms. Cartwright?”

“I’m fine,” she responded in a stage whisper from around the lump still choking her, still trying to force oxygen into her chest.

“I’m pretty sure that’s demonstrably untrue,” the voice said, nearing. A pair of black patent leather dress shoes and the hem of a pair of black tuxedo pants strode into her field of vision, and she realized that the voice belonged to Prince Alexander.

“Your Royal Highness!” Maddy exclaimed, horrified. “What are you doing here? You have to be in there!”

“I’m a prince,” he said simply. “I can really do pretty much what I want to.” The way he said it wasn’t conceited sounding, merely just a statement of fact, even if it was offered with a hint of a smirk. His expression went serious. “But you are definitely not well. What’s wrong? Are you ill? Can I call someone?”

Maddy finally managed to take a normal breath and steady herself. “No, I’m not sick. I just…” She groped for words. “I just needed a moment. But you really need to be back inside. If someone notices you’re gone...”

“Madeleine,” he ventured, as if testing out the use of her first name.

“It’s Maddy,” she blurted. “Nobody calls me Madeleine. Well, nobody except Mrs. Stewart.”

“Okay, Maddy,” the prince corrected. “How can I help? What’s upset you?”

She took another calming breath, looked at the ceiling, and used her fingers to wipe away the slight dampness that had collected beneath her eyes. “Really, I’m fine,” she said, managing to make eye contact with him for the first time. His eyes were full of concern and a healthy dose of skepticism.

“You’re sure?” he prodded.

“Yes, that piece just brings back some memories,” she added.

The prince looked like he was about to ask another question when applause started to waft out from around the curtain to the box. Just then Sloane stuck her head out. “Your Royal Highness? It’s time for you and Mrs. Stewart to go down to make your speeches.”

“Go,” Maddy prompted, resisting the urge to give him a small shove. She didn’t know much about royal protocol, but assumed shoving the Spare was squarely on the “no fly” list.

The prince gave her one last searching look and then stepped back into the box to collect Mrs. Stewart and escort her to the stage where they’d be making some brief remarks before the final set on the concert, a medley of the anthems of the two countries’ various military branches. Maddy stepped a little further down the hallway to avoid crossing paths with Mrs. Stewart, and then, when she heard the riotous applause that signaled their appearance on stage, slipped quietly back into the box.

She resumed her seat behind the twins as she heard the prince say, “And although I haven’t served myself, I certainly know a thing or two about duty to one’s country.” The crowd cheered wildly, and he smiled broadly. “We are so thrilled to welcome so many members of the armed forces of our two great nations this evening. It is a privilege to honor you all and your families. And so, as we close the concert we ask you to stand and be recognized when you hear your branch’s anthem. And that includes you too, family members. Our service members couldn’t do what they do without you.”

The audience applauded as the prince and Mrs. Stewart stepped to the side and the conductor struck up the orchestra. Maddy’s heart stuttered a bit as she heard the snare drum begin and saw uniformed soldiers march to the floor in front of the stage, each holding their military flag. The music washed over her as the Royal Navy March began and she saw sailors standing at attention in the seats below, and families scattered around, including one little girl saluting in an adorable sailor dress.

As “The Army Goes Rolling Along” began, though, Maddy froze. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ambassador Stewart stand, his military medals gleaming on the front of his dress uniform. As the twins rose next to him, Maddy slowly managed to get to her feet, feeling a bit wobbly. Pull it together, Cartwright, she told herself, You’ve been doing this for almost thirty years . As she took a steadying breath, she suddenly felt a small hand sliding into hers and looked down to see Amelia Stewart reaching a hand back and smiling up at her reassuringly. Maddy stepped forward into the place that Mrs. Stewart had vacated, to stand next to the teen. The girls knew as much as anyone did about Maddy’s past, and when Amelia squeezed her hand, Maddy squeezed back, taking another deep breath and willing her lip to stop quivering.

Looking around the crowded hall, she saw a handful of other US Army members and their families. And then her eyes landed on the stage and met Prince Alexander’s. He was looking directly at her, his gaze steady with a hint of a question. She nodded at him slightly, and he tipped his chin in return.

As the Army anthem ended and the RAF’s hymn began, Maddy and the Stewarts all sat. Ambassador Stewart reached around the twins’ shoulders to find Maddy’s arm and gave it a quick squeeze. Of anyone, the ambassador probably understood her situation best, and the small gesture was more comforting than she would have expected. Although she didn’t spend much time with him, even living under the same roof, Ambassador Stewart, or Colonel Stewart as he’d been when she’d first known him, had always been her favorite of her father’s friends. When the unthinkable had happened and she’d needed to get away, there were few she would have trusted to help her, but Andrew Stewart was one. His small sign of his support helped her pull herself together and refocus on the reception.

Thirty minutes later, the champagne reception was in full swing. The large room was full of service members and their families. Members of the orchestra mingled with other embassy staff. A few children zoomed around the room, weaving amongst adult legs, hyped up on too many Shirley Temples. Maddy had a large wicker basket filled with small plush bears that she was handing out to the children. She saw the little girl in the sailor dress she’d noticed during the concert and made her way over. The girl was probably four or five years old and had blonde hair in an adorable crown of braids.

“Would you look after this bear?” Maddy asked, crouching to her level to offer her one of the stuffed bears wearing a yellow hat and a blue duffle coat.

The girl shyly accepted the toy, and thanked Maddy at her mother’s prompting.

“My name’s Maddy. What’s yours?” she asked, smiling at the little girl.

“Emma,” she whispered shyly.

“Did you enjoy the concert, Emma?”

“Yes,” she lisped, then added, “I liked it when they played my daddy’s song.”

“Is your daddy a sailor?” Maddy asked gently.

“Yes, he’s on a boat in the ocean far away because he’s super brave,” Emma announced proudly.

“Do you know who else is super brave?” Maddy asked. When Emma shook her head, Maddy pointed at her. “You.”

“Me?” Emma asked incredulously. “But I’m ’fraid of everything!”

“But being brave doesn’t mean that you aren’t scared. It means that you do scary things even though you are scared. And sending your daddy off to go do a really important job is about the bravest thing I can think of.” Emma beamed with pride. “And I know he’s really proud of you.” She looked up from where she was crouching to see Emma’s mother blinking back tears and stood to put a comforting hand on her arm. “And he’s proud of you too,” Maddy added, swallowing the lump that was rapidly forming in her own throat as she comforted the military spouse who couldn’t have been much older than Maddy herself. The woman thanked her before following her daughter away toward a large table laden with hundreds of cookies.

Maddy turned to find another family to talk with and ran straight into a firm, warm, masculine body, smacking it with her basket and sending bears tumbling to the floor.

“I’m so sorry!” She gasped out, mortified.

“It’s alright,” a now-familiar deep voice chuckled. “It would seem that turnabout is fair play.”

Maddy scrunched her eyes in humiliation, knowing that her face was turning beet red. It was the first time in their brief relationship that either of them had acknowledged martini-gate.

“At least it wasn’t gin,” she answered wryly. “But I’m still sorry.”

She dropped to her knees and started piling bears back in her basket. To her surprise, the prince joined her on the floor, helping to corral the errant toys. “You were so good with her,” he said, placing a few stuffies carefully back in her basket.

“I was only saying what I know I would have wanted to hear.” Maddy said, deflecting his compliment. “I’ve got this, Your Royal Highness. You should be talking with your guests, not on your knees with me.” She regretted her word choice as soon as she said it and felt her cheeks turning red again.

Mercifully, he didn’t respond beyond cocking one eyebrow at her and continued to collect bears. “Was your father in the military too?”

“He still is. He’s a three-star general,” she replied. “Until I moved to London, being an Army brat was basically my entire identity.”

“And now?” he asked, seeming to surprise them both with his question. But Maddy was saved from having to figure out how to answer by Eric coming to the prince and whispering something in his ear. “Please excuse me,” he said to Maddy, almost regretfully.

“Not at all, Your Royal Highness.” Maddy smiled at him as he stood and followed Eric to the other side of the room.

The rest of the event passed in a blur. Toasts were made, sponsors were thanked, and Maddy passed out more stuffed bears, squeezed more hands, tried to connect. By 11:30 p.m., the final guests were leaving. Maddy exhaled, looking around at the familiar party carnage that waitstaff were already tidying away.

“We did good, Cartwright,” came Sloane’s voice from beside her.

“We sure did,” Maddy replied. “Thanks for everything. Y’all are a well-oiled machine.”

The Stewarts came up to them just then, the girls trailing behind their parents looking bored and sleepy. “Maddy, you did great tonight. Your mama would be proud,” said Ambassador Stewart, patting her on the shoulder.

“Thank you, sir. I did learn how to throw a party from the best. I just have a few more things to square away here,” Maddy said, turning to Mrs. Stewart. “Y’all can take the car home. I’ll grab an Uber.”

“We can wait—” the ambassador started to say, but his wife interrupted him with A Look.

“Andrew, the girls are exhausted.”

“It’s been a long night. Y’all go ahead, and I’ll see you in the morning.” Maddy said, ushering them toward the door.

When she’d seen them out of the reception room and heading down the staircase towards the side door where their chauffeured car waited for them, Maddy turned back toward the reception room. Glancing around to be sure nobody was in sight, she slipped off her heels and sighed in relief.

Hooking the straps of her shoes around two of her fingers, she headed back towards the room where she’d left her street clothes. The door was slightly ajar, but she didn’t register until she was walking in that someone was inside. “Mum, I’m fine. It’s like you—” the prince was saying impatiently, cell phone pressed to his face. She turned to rush out of the room again, but Prince Alexander waved her back in. “Mum, I have to go. We’ll continue this conversation tomorrow… yes. Love you too. Goodnight.”

He hung up the phone, raking a hand through his hair.

“I’m so sorry, Your Royal Highness, I didn’t realize—” Maddy began, but he cut her off.

“Alex,” he said quietly. “My friends call me Alex.”

She hoped her shock didn’t show on her face as she slowly said, “Okay then… Alex.” She fought off the urge to look over her shoulder as if she might find a beefeater there, waiting to haul her away for calling the king’s son by his first name. “I didn’t mean to intrude,” she said, returning to her previous line of apology. “I just?—”

He interrupted her again, as if he hadn’t heard her. “Do you ever feel like you don’t know who you truly are? Like, as if your identity was purely dictated by one thing that everyone knows about you and only that?”

Maddy froze, wondering if he knew. Only literally every day of my life and especially the last eighteen months . “Yes, I think I understand what you mean.”

“It’s fucking exhausting.” He sighed, shoving both hands through his hair, giving him a slightly disheveled look that was totally out of line with his princely demeanor and definitely not at all sexy. Not in the least.

“Being reduced to one aspect of who you are? Yup, it sure is.” Maddy said, exhaustion creeping into her voice. “Feeling like you aren’t allowed to express any of the other facets of who you are? Always having to live up to that one thing and be examined under a microscope for it?”

The prince—Alex—finally looked up at her. “You do get it,” he said, looking at her as if he was seeing her in a different way. She shrugged, suddenly feeling like the room was too warm, too small. She found herself acutely aware that she was barefoot in a cocktail dress, and she noticed Alex looking at her, something that almost looked like interest in his gaze. They were standing close enough that she could smell his unique, masculine scent—sandalwood mixed with something she couldn’t pinpoint that was probably a fiendishly expensive cologne. The air sizzled with something, a sensation she didn’t want to give too much attention to, and so Maddy started gathering the things she’d left in the small room before the event.

“This was a really lovely event, Maddy. You did a brilliant job.”

“Thank you, sir,” she replied, feeling her cheeks go red.

“Alex,” he corrected.

“Alex,” she repeated, daring to look at him.

His gray eyes were piercing, as if he was really seeing her. The way he was looking at her made her stomach squirm in an unfamiliar way, heat pooling between her legs as his eyes moved slowly down to her lips. Nope, this isn’t happening. I’m not allowed to have a crush, and I’m definitely not allowed to have a crush on the freaking prince of England .

“I should go,” she said awkwardly, cooling the temperature in the room and killing the mood instantly.

“Yes, of course, I’m sorry to have kept you,” he replied, almost visibly shaking himself, fidgeting with the button on his suit jacket.

“Good night, Your Ro– Alex,” she said, conjuring a smile that she hoped was believable.

Their hands brushed as she almost ran past him to escape the tiny room, an electric sensation shooting up her arm at the slight contact. “Good night, Maddy.” She heard him say behind her as she made her way quickly past Sloane and Eric and out into the night.