Chapter Forty
It was late by the time Ruth got in the car to go home. She was utterly exhausted. She'd missed dinner with Harry and Graham. She never liked to do that. There hadn't been anything for it today. And, in fact, she hadn't seen Harry since he got out of bed early to go to work himself this morning. She needed to talk to him, but she was just so bloody tired. Maybe leave it till tomorrow.
She rested her head on the back of the seat of the car and closed her eyes, wishing the drive out to Leister from the capital wasn't so long.
"Would you like the radio, ma'am?"
Ruth sighed, not bothering to sit up or open her eyes. "Dimitri, I beg you to call me Ruth, please." She liked her new bodyguard. She really did. He was much friendlier than Tom, much more pleasant to be around. And he was highly trained, a member of Special Forces before joining the Royal Guard. Since Ruth was the heir to the crown, she got the best of the best for her personal protection. But sometimes she wondered if he was just a bit too well trained.
"You know I can't do that, Your Royal Highness," Dimitri replied with a little chuckle. "We can't get too familiar with our protectees."
They'd had this conversation before. They both knew the other's arguments. But that didn't stop Ruth. "Tom called me Ruth," she pointed out.
"That was a different circumstance, ma'am," he reminded her.
"Yes, I know," she said in a soft, sad tone. Even after a year of her father on the throne, Ruth still had not come to terms with all the regrets she still felt as a result of it. Her freedom was gone. Her options and possibilities were gone. She had given up the job that she had loved so much. She existed to assist her father in royal duties. She was constantly followed by photographers and journalists wanting to write about her; thankfully those had died down once they realized that Ruth was a supremely boring person. But her normal life was gone. Well, as normal as she could manage it. That was just a forgotten dream now.
Ruth must have dozed off in the car, for the next thing she knew, Dimitri had parked the car and opened her door. "Home again, ma'am," he said gently, waking her up.
She sighed heavily. "Thank you, Dimitri." She took his hand as he helped her out of the car.
"Might I make a suggestion, ma'am?" he asked hesitantly, closing the car door and standing behind her.
Ruth turned back to him curiously. "Of course."
"Go find Sir Harry before you do anything else. You've had a long, hard day. And he always makes you feel better."
A smile broke out on her face. It certainly was not a bodyguard's place to say things like that. But Dimitri was a special sort of lad. Knowing that he paid attention not just to her safety but to her, enough to know that nice facet of her relationship with Harry was very sweet. "I've found that to be one of the better parts of marriage. A good marriage, anyway. Your spouse should make you feel better."
"You and Sir Harry are very lucky that way," Dimitri commented.
Ruth nodded. "We are. I'm thankful for it every day."
He smiled. "Goodnight, ma'am."
"Goodnight, Dimitri. Thank you."
She turned to walk up to the front of the palace to go inside. Behind her, she could have sworn she heard Dimitri say, "Thank you, Ruth." And she smiled.
"You're home late."
Ruth closed the front door behind her and whirled around to see Malcolm with an empty glass in his hand. "Long day," she said. "We had that event in the afternoon and meetings went long. I stayed to have dinner with Dad. How's everything here?" she asked.
"Harry went up to bed, but I'm sure he'll be awake a little while longer. We had an interesting evening. You were missed for dinner," Malcolm told her.
She frowned. "Interesting how?"
He gave a secretive sort of smile. "Might want to go up and see Graham before bed," he said cryptically. "Goodnight, Ruth."
"'Night, Malcolm."
Malcolm's suggestion was odd. Particularly given the way Graham had changed over the last year. He had been extremely unhappy moving out to Leister. He was doing well in school still, but he had lost much of his cheerful enthusiasm from when he was a boy. Perhaps that was just a symptom of getting older, as Harry told her time and again, but Ruth still worried that there was something else to Graham's newfound surliness.
As she went up the stairs and down the corridor to Graham's room, she saw a light under the closed door and the sounds of laughter. How very unusual. Ruth knocked on the door. "Graham, it's Ruth," she announced.
There was a scrambling inside, followed by Graham's voice. "Come in, Ruth."
She opened the door to find Graham sitting on his messy bed with a pillow on his lap. And sitting on the other end, leaning against the footboard with another pillow was his sister. "Catherine!" Ruth exclaimed happily. "What are you doing here!?"
Catherine smiled and stood up to give Ruth a hug. "I missed the family. And since one of my classes for tomorrow got cancelled, I decided to skip the other and I asked Beth to bring me home for the weekend."
"I'm so glad to see you," Ruth told her, hugging her tight.
And it was the truth. This last year had been difficult and made all the more so for Ruth with her dearest friend. It was wonderful that Catherine was at university and living her life and finding more of her independence in her second year, but Ruth selfishly wished she could have Catherine with her through all this, just as she had been during the wedding planning.
But as they hugged, Ruth realized something. She pulled back and regarded her sternly. "Have you been drinking?" she asked softly.
Catherine was a little pink in the face and tried not to laugh, but a little giggle slipped out. She turned back to Graham, who was also laughing.
Ruth's blood began to boil. "Give me the bottle," she demanded.
Graham's laughter continued, ignoring how cross Ruth very obviously was. He moved the pillow off his lap to reveal a half-empty bottle of scotch. One of Harry's, which made it even worse. Ruth snatched it out of his hand, shaking with rage.
"Glasses. Where are the glasses? I know you weren't just passing this bottle back and forth," she snapped.
Catherine and Graham were a bit too intoxicated to move as quickly as she wanted them to. And they were unconcerned with her anger. So she went around to the other side of the bed. And right there, just beneath the bedframe, were two glasses of scotch, both nearly empty but not quite. Ruth put the bottle under her arm and picked up a glass in each hand.
She stood up and looked pointedly. "This is absolutely unacceptable, Graham."
"Oh come on, Ruth. It's not a big deal. Dad drinks every night," he pointed out dismissively.
"Yes, well, when you've got a stressful job managing an entire military division and you're a war hero, you can drink every night, too." She turned then to Catherine. "You should know better. You're of age, but he isn't. I expect better from you," Ruth scolded.
She did not wait for them to respond. She was too mad. She went out the door and slammed it behind her. Not knowing what else to do, Ruth took everything up another flight of stairs to her own bedroom.
"I've already had plenty, thanks."
As soon as she opened the door, she found Harry in his dressing gown, likely putting things away before bed. She must have looked insane, carrying two glasses and a bottle of scotch.
In a fit of pique, Ruth drank down each of the glasses—only about three swallows between them—and put them down on a sideboard with the bottle. "I found these in your son's room with both your children getting drunk together."
Harry chuckled, "Well, that's nice for them."
"Harry!"
"What do you expect, Ruth? Catherine's just turned twenty. Graham will be eighteen next month. They're young. There's nothing wrong with it."
Ruth felt all the fight drain out of her. She vaguely recalled having had this discussion before. Perhaps Harry was right. It didn't matter. She'd overreacted. She'd apologize to Graham and Catherine tomorrow. For right now, she was just too tired to push.
Without responding to Harry, Ruth took off her jacket and tossed it onto a chair and slipped off her shoes. She crossed to the bed and flopped down on top of it. Her arms were crossed beneath her, and she rested her forehead on them to hide her face.
A weight on the edge of the bed indicated that Harry had sat down beside her. He gently stroked her hair and rubbed her back for a minute before asking, "What's bothering you, darling?"
"I hate being a princess," she whined, voice muffled against the bed.
"I know you do," he answered sympathetically. "Anything specific about it today, or is that just a general statement?"
Ruth felt herself smile at his lightheartedness. She rolled over onto her back to look up at him. "I had to give an address to the miner's union today. It didn't go well. I got flustered and distracted and lost my place in my notes. Sam tried to be nice about it, but she couldn't really hide how terribly I did."
"It's still new for you," Harry reasoned.
She grumbled, "I know. That's what Sam said. But why is everyone else in my family so good at it? Grandfather gave beautiful speeches full of gravitas. Edmund was a charming, enigmatic speaker. Dad's got this quiet dignity about him. And I'm just an awkward mess!"
"They've been practicing at this a lot longer than you, Ruth," he reminded her. "Your grandfather was king for a long time before you were even born. And both his sons assisted him with public appearances for a long time. Your father shielded you from having to do much of that because it wasn't necessary for you to deal with. You've only really been doing the heavy lifting of royalty for a year. Less than that, since you were still working a few days a week in Foreign Intelligence for the first few months. You'll get better as you get more experience."
He was being very sweet, she knew. And his words were something of a comfort. But that just wasn't what Ruth wanted to hear at the moment. Besides, she knew he was right and she wasn't even too upset over the speech. "I got another negative result today," she said.
Harry's whole face changed. He'd been smiling softly to soothe her. His expression immediately fell at her words and a somewhat haunted, exhausted look appeared. "Oh Ruth, I'm so sorry."
They'd been trying to get pregnant for months and months now. With absolutely no luck. Ruth was being monitored by a doctor. She got blood tests every two weeks to check various levels of things. Both she and Harry were on special diets and taking supplements to increase fertility. All to no avail. Nothing had happened.
When she didn't answer, Harry settled down on the bed, lying sideways on it beside Ruth, and took her in his arms. "We'll keep trying," he said softly.
Ruth just nodded. Yes, they'd keep trying. Eventually they'd succeed. She hoped. But between the bad speech and the negative test result and her overreaction at Graham and Catherine, she felt like the day had been full of her failures from start to finish.
But at least she was with Harry now. He held her and kissed her hair and whispered that he loved her. And just as Dimitri had said, Ruth felt a little better just being with him.