Chapter Six

"You're quiet, Ruthie."

She smiled, turning away from where she was staring out the window to look at her grandfather. He was the only one who ever called her Ruthie. Her father and everyone else in the family and all her friends—however many of them she could claim to have—and all her colleagues called her Ruth. Her first name, Louisa, was only ever used in a formal capacity with her proper title. Princess Louisa. She felt like another person sometimes. Ruth herself was just Ruth. But she was her grandfather's only grandchild, and he had doted on her all her life. And he always called her Ruthie.

"I'm used to you not ever ceasing your excited, stammering prattle. What's this new pensive nonsense you're doing?" he asked.

Ruth shook her head with a little chuckle. Not one to beat around the bush, her grandfather. "I'm fine, honestly. I've just had a lot on my mind."

"Well, we're stuck in this car for a while longer before we arrive at the village for my speech," he replied. "Care to share?"

She hesitated only briefly, weighing the options. On the one hand, she did not want to discuss her personal life with her grandfather, who was the King, after all. But on the other hand, she had a feeling he might provide a good perspective. So she decided to try it in a roundabout sort of way. "Do you remember Harry Pearce?" she asked.

He frowned, thinking. "Army?"

"Yes. He's a major. You knighted him after the war," Ruth reminded.

"Ah yes. I liked him. Extremely strong sense of duty. Nearly died a hundred times over protecting the capitol. And his entire regiment survived thanks to his strategies and quick leadership."

Ruth smiled at that. She'd read all about what Harry had done in the war, of course. And it absolutely warmed her heart. Because that was Harry to a T. Decisive and duty-bound. He was a wonderful leader. A wonderful boss. There was no doubt in her mind that he deserved to be Sir Harry, even if he never used the title at all. "So you like him?" she pressed to her grandfather.

"Nothing not to like, as far as I can recall," he answered. "Why do you ask?"

"Well he is my boss," she pointed out.

"Yes, I know that, Ruthie. But what should it matter what I think of him?"

She bit her lip, realizing she'd backed herself into a corner. "I was just curious about your opinion. I know he was a good soldier and he's a good head of Foreign Intelligence, but I just…I guess I was wondering if there was any more to him."

Her grandfather gave her a very curious look. "You like him."

Ruth's eyes grew to the size of dinner plate. "I…"

He laughed, "Oh Ruthie, you're a grown woman! There's nothing wrong with a bit of romantic feeling. By the time I was your age, I'd been married with two children already! You were already born by the time your mother was your age. We all know you value your independence and your education and your work, but we were starting to worry about you."

"Worry!?" This conversation was not at all going as she'd envisioned. In fact, she wanted nothing more than to leap out of the moving car and hide in a hole in the forests of Gambon.

"No man has ever really turned your head, has he?"

"I've dated!" she defended. The whole thing felt like some sort of nightmarish hallucination, discussing her romantic life with her grandfather.

"Have you?"

"Yes, at school, I had two different boyfriends. One of them turned out to only want a bit of fame and fortune while the other one left me for my flatmate. And then since I've been with the army, I dated a journalist who turned out to be very unintelligent and a business investor who was very clever because he was also dating two other women at the same time." The words tripped out of her mouth faster than she could rein them in. Good lord, she should not be saying these things!

"Well I'm glad to hear you've not lived like a nun," Grandfather reasoned. A tiny smirk appeared on his face. "What was unintelligent about the journalist?"

Ruth blushed. "I thought he didn't care about my position. Turns out he had absolutely no idea who I was, and when I finally told him, he couldn't believe it and genuinely accused me of lying to him."

That made him laugh out loud. "Well, I'm glad you got rid of him. Sounds like a right wanker."

"Grandfather!" she chided, laughing at his use of slang.

"I'm an old man, Ruthie, no one cares what I say anymore."

She put her hand on his arm. "I care. Very much. I just didn't know you called people wankers."

"Only when they deserve it."

Ruth laughed again and kissed his cheek. "You're really wonderful, you know that?"

"That's why they've let me stay king this long."

"I don't think your monarchy exists because of your good humor," she teased.

"Actually, it does." His tone turned quite serious all of a sudden. "I know you don't do many royal things, and that's perfectly fine, since you won't ever be queen. But as a member of the royal family, it's vital you recognize that we are only in power because it is the will of the people. Revolutions have happened before. Coups and assassinations and overthrows of governments. Our government and our colonies are created and ruled in my name and will be ruled in Edmund's name after me, but that is only by the grace of the people who allow us to lead them. The crown stands for nothing more and nothing less than stability and eternity. No matter whose head the crown sits on, it balances only because it is the will of the people that it stay there. If I abused my power or became some tyrannical dictator, the monarchy would collapse. Being a good king and being a good man are one in the same. But not every good man would be a good king, and that is what gives me pride in my position and nothing else."

Ruth listened to his small speech feeling an overwhelming sense of something she could not quite comprehend. She had always felt equally resigned and resentful to her family's position as royalty. It was a burden and annoyance to her and little else. But hearing the view Grandfather had of it, the reverence he had for the crown and for his privilege to wear it…Ruth felt a pride all her own for the first time. And she was quite honored, now, to be asked to accompany him for these few days.

"Now then," he said, shifting the mood back to something much lighter. "Tell me about Sir Harry."

"He doesn't like being called Sir Harry. Just Harry," Ruth told him.

"Oh? Not a fan of the title I bestowed up on him?"

She knew he was teasing, so she chuckled and explained, "No, he just doesn't put much stock in formality like that. He's never once treated me as anything other than just Ruth, his analyst. He doesn't lord his position over anyone. Maybe that's like you," she realized suddenly. "He earns the respect of those around him and does not go about reminding people of his accolades. Quite the opposite actually."

Grandfather smiled. "That," he said quite sincerely, "is the makings of a very good man."

"I think so," Ruth agreed.

"And you've been working for him for over a year now. I'm sure this isn't a new realization."

"No, I liked him from the start," Ruth said, recalling the first moment she met Harry, bumping into him in the hallway and the way he teased her and made her smile and caused butterflies whenever he looked at her. "And I love working with him. But…"

"Yes?"

"He asked me to go to dinner with him."

"Oh I see."

"I thought he was married, actually. But he told me his wife divorced him just after the war and then died a few years ago. And he…well, I can't see why he would want to go out with me."

"Can't you?"

"Well Harry doesn't care that I'm a princess. And that's really the only remarkable think about me."

"Louisa Ruth Emilia Catherine!" he snapped. The use of her full name immediately set her on edge. "You are quite the most remarkable woman in the world, princess or not. You are absolutely brilliant, you are immensely kind, you possess empathy and resilience in uncommon amounts, and you are a very beautiful girl. And I don't just say all of that as your grandfather, though I think that does put me in a very unique position to see in you all the wonderful bits of your father and your mother and your grandmother and me. And that blend makes you absolutely wonderful. I don't care what all the wankers you've dated before have led you to believe, my girl, but Harry Pearce would be lucky for the honor of getting to go out with you. And don't you forget it."

The scolding tone of those beautiful compliments nearly reduced Ruth to tears. She did not quite know what to say. "I…I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing?"

"I don't really know," she admitted.

"Well, enough of that. I think that if you like Harry and you want to go out with him, you should. I know he's your boss, but these things can work if you're both smart about it, which I think you are. If you don't want to go out with him, thank him for the invitation and politely decline. I'm sure he won't hold it against you. Do you want to go out with him?"

"Yes," she answered quickly. Ruth was too discombobulated by this whole conversation to be anything less than honest at this point.

"Then when you return to work, tell him so."

"But…"

"But what?"

"You don't mind that he's so much older than me?"

"A man who has been married and divorced is a man who has made mistakes and hopefully learned from them. And a man his age should know what he wants and not want to waste time. If he treats you well and you like him, Ruthie, that's all that matters. Age is just a number, after all."

Ruth sighed, feeling like she'd been put through the wringer on this car ride. "I wonder how many women get dating advice from their grandfathers?"

"Probably more than who get dating advice from the King."

That comment had Ruth laughing again. Grandfather leaned over and kissed her temple.

"You're a good girl, Ruthie. I'm glad you're here with me."

"Me too."