Princess Ever After

SIXTEEN





Reggie exploded out the door and into the pack of waiting press. The chilled air reached for her, and she longed for Tallahassee’s late September heat.

“Princess, over here.”

“What do you think of Hessenberg?”

“Are you really the great-granddaughter of Princess Alice?”

“Are you going to sign the entail?”

Cameras clicked and buzzed in her ears and her forward motion stopped when she sank into the mud of media.

“Please, let me go. Please.” She spun in one direction, then another. But she was surrounded by people with cameras and questions. A shove from behind crashed her into the Mercedes and she tried to open the back door, but it was locked.

“Pardon me.” She shoved forward and knocked one odious photographer into another. “Stand back.”

She worked her way around the back of the car and found Dickenson reaching for her, his eyes popping, his expression grim. “Your Majesty, I didn’t know you were coming.” He wrapped his arm about her shoulder, shielding her from the press.

“Dickenson, give me the keys.” She hovered by the driver’s side door.

“I–I can drive you, miss. Please, let me . . .” He reached around her to open the door. “I’ll unlock the back . . . Stand down, man, give the princess room.” Dickenson put his shoulder down and rammed a man twice his size in the chest.

“Dickenson, please.” Reggie raised her head long enough to look him in the eye. “Give me the keys.” She held up her palm.

“I–I . . . miss . . . please . . .” He sighed and dropped the keys in her palm. “Unlock the ignition with the key, then press the starter button on the panel.”

“Thank you.” She’d kiss him if she wasn’t in such a hurry to get out of Dodge. Oh poor, sweet Dickenson. He wore the most bamboozled expression.

In the driver’s seat, Reggie exhaled her anxiety and inhaled confidence. She knew nothing about being a royal or how to handle the media, but she sure as heck knew how to handle a car. The engine roared to life when she engaged the push button ignition. She gunned the gas as a warning to the photographers hovering about her window and the front of the car.

“Move, bubbas,” she muttered with another rev of the engine. “I’m going whether you’re standing there or not.”

She mashed the horn, giving it a good long blast, then shifted into gear and was about to take off when Tanner knocked on the passenger door window.

“Regina, let me in.”

“Stand back, Tanner.” She inched the car forward, motioning for the photographer aiming his camera through the windshield to mooove!

“Open the door.” He banged his fist against the glass, then raised up to peek over the hood. “Dickenson, how could you—”

His voice faded, lost in the rest of the crowd noise.

Reggie powered down the passenger window. “Hey, don’t yell at Dickenson. I demanded the keys. And by the way, did you set me up? Did you know he could charge me with all of that? Did you know he was the one who filed the petition?”

“Open the door.” Tanner bent over the door, looking for the lock button.

Reggie inched the car forward. She’d waited too long to get out of here. “Tanner, back up, because I’m going.”

“Open the door, you insane girl.”

“Insane girl! Is that how you speak to your princess?” She powered forward, scattering the last lingering, daredevil photographers.

“Yes, when she acts like she’s lost her last marble.” Panic infused his words. “Open the door, Regina.”

“I need to think.” She gunned the car forward, laying on the horn again. A photographer with a death wish had stepped in front of her. “Maybe I have lost my last marble.”

“I’m coming with you. We can search for the lost marble together.” Tanner skipped along the side of the car as Reggie rolled out from under the covered portico. “Regina, oh, you are a stubborn one.”

With that, she hit a clear path and pressed the pedal to the metal. Tanner lunged through the window as she whipped the car around toward the entrance, fishtailing the back end, planting his face in the passenger seat, his legs flailing, his feet kicking at the wind.


“Tanner, I suggest you buckle up.”

He moaned and contorted, twisting around, catching himself as Reggie fired out of the manor driveway, hitting the street ahead in front of a wall of oncoming cars.

“Do you aim to kill us?” Finally upright, Tanner dropped down in the seat and fastened his seat belt.

“Sorry, but I need to drive.”

“Do you know where you’re going?”

“No.” In every sense of the word.

“Turn left at the next avenue.” Tanner gripped the dash as she sped around the corner before the light flashed red. “He can’t do it, Regina.”

“Arrest me? He sure seems to think he can.” She checked the side mirror and threaded in and out of traffic. “Didn’t anyone else in your government figure this out?”

“A lorrie, Regina. Truck, truck—” Tanner planted his hand on the dash and leaned right as she skirted around a truck exiting a narrow side street. “Next left . . .” He pointed.

Reggie barely slowed, cutting the Mercedes hard and making the corner. “He’s right, Tanner. I’m not fit to lead. Who am I?”

“You think just because he’s got years of experience and the title governor he’s fit to lead? What kind of leader pulls a stunt like this?”

“One who thinks he’s doing it for the good of the people.”

“For the good of himself.” Tanner seemed to relax, just a bit, but she was still booking it through midmorning traffic. “At the light, take another left.”

At last she was leaving the city behind and finding good, open road. She slipped the Mercedes between a small, two-seater car and another truck and aimed for the hills. The feel of the wheel beneath her hands, the song of the engine, the power of speed soothed her anxiety. The sense of being overwhelmed subsided as she steered up the hillside.

Coming here may well have been the worst decision of her life. Even more than the seven precious years she lost to Backlund & Backlund. Did she really think she’d waltz in and be a princess without opposition?

“Remember what my father said, Reggie.” She glanced at him. He stared ahead, his right hand gripping the door handle. “Do you fear God or man?”

“At the moment, I fear being arrested. In a foreign country.”

“You won’t be arrested.” He sounded not confident at all.

“Exactly. I’ll go home first. Forget this mess.”

Reggie let the Mercedes hug the side of the narrow lanes, feeling the tires grip as the road dipped and turned.

“Regina, we’ll get this sorted out.”

“Sorted out? Tanner, this is not who is coming to dinner on Sunday. Shoot fire, how did y’all not see this coming?”

“Regina, curve . . . around this hill . . . it’s a tight—”

She braked and cut the Mercedes right, urging the vehicle to cling to the inside of the road, skidding around tail end toward the barrier rail and a sharp hillside drop.

“Sweet heaven . . .” Tanner flattened one hand against his door and another on the dash. The car fishtailed out of the turn and Reggie drove on, straightening the car’s path with a bit of speed.

“Wahoooo . . . Ha-ha!” She powered down her window and stuck her arm into the air, palming the stiff breeze, waving to the blazing Princess Alice trees. “Now we’re talking.”

Tanner swore beneath his breath. “You’re a madwoman. I should think the threat of arrest is preferable to death. And remember, I’m in this car and I choose life. No matter my pitiful existence.”

“What? Pitiful?” She cut him a quick look just as the straightaway bent into another hairpin curve. Reggie fixed her eyes on the road and gripped the wheel.

“Eyes ahead . . .”

Out of the turn, the road shot out of the mountains into a straight stretch, fields on either side. She’d told Tanner she wanted to think but what she really wanted was to feel. To get her heart around this whole mess. And driving did that for her. Then she could think. Sort things out, as it were.

Ahead, Meadowbluff Palace rose, majestic and graceful on the horizon. A fortress. A safe harbor. Her adrenaline ebbed, leaving her legs and arms trembling. And she just wanted to go home.

“Meadowbluff is a beautiful place.” She turned down the palace drive, stopping just shy of the heavy wrought iron gate. “What’s the security code?”

“One, nine, six, zero.” Each number came with an exasperated exhale. “I do believe I had a mini heart attack back there.”

“Dang, Tanner, could you be any more dramatic?” Reggie gentled the car forward as the gate opened and slowly made her way to the palace steps. “What was with the pitiful life remark?”

“Must have been the heart attack talking.” The car eased to a stop in front of the palace and Tanner popped open his door. “And you’re one to talk of dramatics. You didn’t even give us a chance to deal with Seamus before you ran off. Now we’ll have to gather again.” He slammed his door shut and walked around to Reggie’s side of the car. “Nathaniel is a kind man, but he’s also a busy one.”

Tanner opened her door as Reggie slouched forward, dropping her forehead against the steering wheel. Now that she was still, the tension, the anxiety, the questions came rushing to the surface, demanding audience with her emotions and her thoughts.

“Regina?” Tanner crouched down next to her. “Please, we can manage Seamus. But I understand it’s a bit much, all at once.”

Tears, slow and warm, slipped down her cheeks. “I’m not sure you do.”

“Come on.” He hooked his arm through hers. “Gentle off your worries. Let’s go inside for a spot of tea. Jarvis tells me the chef makes extraordinary cakes. We’ll sort this out, Regina. We will.”

Maybe it wasn’t proper or the princess thing to do, but Reggie leaned into Tanner, wrapped her arms about his waist, and wept against his chest.



After tea, when her nerves had settled, Reggie dialed Daddy. She needed to hear his voice. Needed his counsel about what she faced.

But she had to admit, the peace she felt in the midst of her mental turmoil was beyond her human capacity.

“Daddy, hey, it’s me. Thought I’d give you a call but you’re probably out . . . hmm . . . I just wanted to hear your voice. Feels like forever since I left Tally. Doing good, I guess. Found out I have an enemy. The governor said I was an enemy of the state! Said I’m inept to lead, and I gotta give him props on that one. Tanner says it’s just a bunch of hooey but . . . I . . . feel . . . really overwhelmed. Call me, okay?”



Al, any news on the Duesy?



Mark, har-har, yes in Hessenberg. Call Daddy 4 the latest. Thx agn 4 the warehouse.



Carrie, sup? U & Rafe in luv? Miss U big!