Chapter Sixty-One

"But Your Majesty…"

"No, just let me!"

Harry heard one of the maids get shouted down by Ruth. Poor girl, whoever she was. A part of Harry wanted to apologize on behalf of his wife, but he wouldn't do that. The staff should know who they were dealing with. Queen Louisa was a very different person to her father. She'd lived a very different life to this point. There would be some adjustments for everyone.

One nice thing about Ruth flying off the handle was that Harry found himself somewhat less grumpy about the whole thing. He and Ruth had that way about them. One of them got to overreact, the other appeased the overreactor. Usually Harry was the surly, stubborn, pain in the ass. Having Ruth take her turn at it was strangely refreshing. And really, he was glad she was getting a little tyrannical. It was good for her. Nice change from her usual tendency to be a bit of a doormat, overly conciliatory to everyone. Perhaps this was just the last straw for her. It was quite close to it for Harry as well.

"I understand that this is your job, but these are my books, and I'll put them where I like since I am forced to live here!" Ruth shrieked.

That was the point at which Harry knew he needed to step in. By her tone, she was perilously close to stumbling over her words and sputtering and possibly bursting into tears. No one needed that. Not today, especially.

Harry walked through the door to the private sitting room off the king's suite. Well, it was the king's suite because it was where the monarch lived; the queen's suite, where Harry was supposed to live, was across the hall. That was a situation they'd handle later.

"Ruth, take a deep breath, please," he said calmly but firmly.

She turned, looking extremely exasperated and considering whether to unleash her frustration on him. She decided to listen to him instead.

Harry turned to the maid. "You can go," he instructed.

The girl looked from Harry to Ruth, which made sense, as she was queen and Harry had less authority. That would take some getting used to as well. Ruth gave a subtle nod. It did not escape his notice. But the maid left the room, closing the double doors behind her.

"Sit down, you're getting yourself worked up," he instructed once they were alone.

"Harry, this is all absolutely—"

"Stop it," he snapped.

Ruth glared daggers at him, but she closed her mouth and sat down on the settee beside the bookshelf she had been fussing over. There was a box filled with books beside her and a number of titles strewn across the shelves in haphazard order.

Harry moved another three books off the settee to sit beside her. "Deep breaths. Find your words," he said softly, waiting patiently for her to calm down.

Ruth rested her elbows rest on her knees. She wasn't wearing one of her proper suits or any gown; nothing fit for a queen. She was instead wearing a pair of loose-fitting soft trousers and a ratty old jumper. The staff at Leister had been good at following instructions and not getting rid of clothes until they were told to. Harry couldn't imagine the same would hold true here. Not now that they were living in the palace. Permanently.

But for right now, Ruth looked like herself. She might have been queen for the last three weeks, but today, now, she was Ruth. The lovely and slightly mad woman Harry Pearce had married nearly a decade earlier. She was no longer a fresh-faced bride. Not the same vibrant young woman he'd been so nervous to ask to dinner. No, now she was inching slowly toward the middle age that Harry had been saddled with for some time now. She was tired and she was sad. More of both than Harry had ever seen from her before. Yet more adjustments for them all.

"I just want to arrange my own bookshelf. These are my books for my sitting room. I know I'll never again get to read anything for fun for the rest of my life, but these are my books and I want to put them away myself and know where they are and be able to look at them. And they won't let me," she explained, her face covered by her hands.

Harry rubbed her back soothingly. "The staff has their duty, darling. They're supposed to be doing things for you. You're supposed to be doing more important things."

She lifted her head and pushed her hair back. "But this is important. Maybe not to the country, but it is to me. Aren't I allowed at least that?"

"You tell me."

Ruth's chin shook and her eyes filled with tears. She shut her eyes tight and turned away before she began to cry.

"Come on, none of that. Not today," he said, teasing slightly, pulling her into his arms.

She leaned into his chest for about half a second before bolting upright. "Oh Jesus, Harry, I'm so sorry! Oh god, I'm going on and on about stupid bloody books and…oh no, I was going to do something wonderful, I…" She trailed off, her breath hitching as she tried desperately not to cry.

Harry just pulled her back against his chest. "Shh, only one of us is allowed to be upset at once. And today's supposed to be my day."

He was trying to tease her, but there was a sting of truth to it. For today wasn't just any day. It was Harry's birthday. And not just any birthday. He was fifty years old today. But it was also the day that all of their things had arrived from Leister. So instead of making plans for a big birthday celebration—which Harry would have grumbled about but actually might have enjoyed if he'd been allowed—the family had been overrun by boxes and staff and trying to figure out how to turn this ancient palace into as much of a home as they could muster. They'd been living there for over a month, but having everything they owned be with them now made it all a little more official.

Unlike Harry's prior birthdays, they had not woken to the delights of Ruth's body. No, Ruth had been woken early for a meeting with Members of the Legislature over breakfast. Harry had gone to help Emilia and Charlotte with the things in their room as the boxes arrived. Despite having a nearly disgusting amount of space, the girls were still sharing a room. Harry and Ruth had hoped that the transition would be a little easier for them if they could stay together. And they had a nanny now, which broke Ruth's heart. But Harry found it extremely helpful. He was fifty now. He didn't want to be responsible for dressing and bathing and feeding his little princesses all the time. Perhaps that was unfair, but he hadn't done any of those things the first or second time around, so he had little patience for it this third and fourth time. He spent nearly all his time with Emmy and Charlotte, but he just wanted the fun parts. He was fifty years old. He was allowed to pick and choose, wasn't he? Well, maybe not in terms of parenting. But all this royal privilege nonsense had to be good for something, surely?

Harry had just left the girls playing in their room to check on how Ruth was managing, freed as she was from her meeting. And he found that his dear wife was not doing well, unfortunately for them both.

"I didn't forget your birthday, I swear I didn't," Ruth said, looking up at him with rather misty eyes.

"You've been a bit busy, darling. And I don't think any of us are feeling very celebratory. We don't need to bother with it," Harry told her, hoping to make her feel better. But really, it had hurt his feelings to be ignored by her on his birthday. He didn't need a fuss, of course. But it was nice for her to want to make a fuss about him. Not that he ever doubted how much she loved him, it just…well, their lives were all about her now. She was their queen. Harry just had to get used to it. Another adjustment.

Ruth shook her head and stood up from the settee. "No, I mean…" She trailed off again, going to her private desk and rummaging through the drawers. They were probably already disorganized. He never did understand how she managed like that.

Harry watched her from where he sat, waiting patiently as she grumbled to herself.

"Ah!" she announced triumphantly. In her hand was a rumpled package wrapped in bright blue paper and tied with a wrinkled white ribbon. "See? I bought this months ago. Back when I was allowed to go shopping for myself. End of that now, I suppose. But I picked this myself." She returned to the settee and handed it to him excitedly.

"Am I to open it now?"

"It is your birthday. And we're miraculously alone. So yes, now would be the right time to open it," she told him.

Chuckling lightly, Harry did as she told him. He untied the ribbon and ripped off the paper. Inside was a little box. He opened the lid and was surprised by what he found inside. It was a watch. A beautiful silver watch with elegant gold details around the links of the band. The face of the watch was a very elegant black. "Oh Ruth, it's…"

"It's engraved," she interrupted.

Harry pulled it out of the box carefully to read what was written, To the inspiration of my most unprincess-like behavior, all my love, Ruth. He looked up at her, grinning uncontrollably, remembering the way they had snogged in his car after their second dinner date and he'd ravished her on the sofa and she took him upstairs to his bedroom for some of the best sex of his life. He had teased her for it being unprincess-like behavior, and she reminded him of it quite often, whenever they let loose and had more fun than was perhaps strictly allowed.

"Do you like it?" she asked expectantly, smiling back at him.

He leaned in and kissed her. It was a strong, lingering kiss, but he did not deepen it. Not right now. "I love it," he whispered against her lips, kissing her again. "And I love you."

"Maybe tonight we can celebrate properly," she suggested, pulling back before they got too carried away.

Harry hummed happily. "What did you have in mind? Perhaps we can try out some behavior unbecoming of a queen?"

"Oh I certainly hope so. I've been thinking…" She leaned in to whisper into his ear the specific things she was thinking. Harry may have been fifty years old, but Ruth still had the power to arouse him in the most unexpected and shocking ways. He practically felt the blood rush to his groin as she described where she wanted to put her legs…and then with her mouth and…

"Yes, I think that would be quite nice," he said, pulling back from her. He needed to calm himself down now, before they ended up doing quite a number of those things she described right here before lunch. "I'll just put this away and…and see to the girls."

Ruth laughed. It was the best sound he could have possibly hoped to hear. He felt himself relax slightly as he smiled to her. "What?" she asked, seeing the silly look on his face.

"Well, it's just that this is really all I wanted for my birthday."

"A watch and some teasing?"

"For you to be happy. We've had a rough go of it, I know, and I…well, I've missed seeing you happy. That's all I wanted."

Before Ruth could respond, a knock came at the door. Jo entered. "Your Majesty, you wanted me to give you a half hour warning before your luncheon with the advisors."

Harry nodded, moving aside. "I'll leave you to it."

"Wait!" Ruth called out.

He turned and paused, watching her scramble over to him. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly. "Happy birthday, Harry," she said softly, gazing up at him with that beautiful sparkle in her stormy blue eyes. "I love you."

Harry grinned. But Jo was waiting, he knew, and his presence wasn't helpful. He gave her a playful swat on the bum. "Back to work," he instructed.

Ruth let go of him, laughing again in that way he adored. She turned her attention back to Jo, and Harry closed the door behind him.