Thank you for your kind support.
Standard disclaimer.
Prince Arthur lifted his eyebrow, when he heard Gwen's statement, then waved for the butler to serve the tea.
"Thank you," he said, after the man poured tea and coffee, and then, "You may be dismissed." He turned to Gwen.
"A matter concerning Andrew," he prompted.
"The television has got to go," she said.
"Andrew loves his movies."
"I know, but watching television, isn't going to help him with his reading."
"Perhaps, we could reduce his television time. Andrew has such limited personal freedom," he said, as if he was well aware, of the same limitations in his own life.
"The television shouldn't be in his quarters or his schoolroom. It should be made inconvenient, at least for a while."
He took a sip of his coffee and regarded her over the edge of his cup.
"You are a surprising combination, Miss Guinevere. You're tough about television, but lenient about outdoor lessons." Her face heated up.
She had spent the better part of the day, wondering if she would be deported, but she told herself, she was merely curious...she was not worried.
"I was told, your advisors would advise you to fire me and that I might very well be leaving, within the next day or two."
"But you don't agree," Arthur asked, surprising her with his perceptiveness.
Gwen looked at him and assessed him for the tenth time.
She wondered how long it was going to take her, to completely nail his character.
"I have this sense, that you've been told, not to think for yourself, for most of your life, and that may have worked for a long while. But you have a very strong mind of your own, and you don't necessarily accept the opinions of your advisors all the time. After all, how old are you? Forty-something?"
Prince Arthur blinked, and Gwen had the awful feeling, she'd just stepped over another line.
"Thirty two," he said. Oops.
"Oh, well, I'm sure it's a maturity...responsibility thing. My point is, that...you strike me as a man, who has been around long enough, to respect his own opinions."
"My advisors are well informed and grounded in matters of royal tradition, responsibility, training and all issues concerning Wales."
"I'm sure they are, and I'm sure you're cognizant of the need, to not get entrenched."
"You're not afraid of getting fired, as you say," Prince Arthur said, meeting her gaze dead-on. Determined to be honest with him, she took a deep breath.
"Maybe a little. But I don't really need this job. I'm more concerned about helping Andrew. We made progress today. If I stay," she told him, "I can't promise we won't get caught in the rain again. Did your advisors hassle the living daylights out of you? Do you ever just tell them to take a pill?"
"My sister and most of my four 'adopted' brothers, have offered various colorful suggestions to the advisors, but since I work with them daily, I have a different way."
He met her gaze, as if he were confiding in her.
"I tell them I will take their opinions under advisement," he finished. A slow smile blossomed on Gwen's face.
"How very restrained and tactful," she said in honest admiration, but would have enjoyed seeing the man in full-fledged anger...or passion.
A knock sounded at the door.
Arthur gave a slight frown of impatience.
"Enter," he said.
"Pardon me, Your Highness, but Dr. Henry is here to see you." Arthur's face immediately cleared.
"Send him in," he said and stood.
A tall man, with shaggy hair, a five o'clock shadow on his jaw, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, strode into the room wearing a crooked smile.
He dipped his head, then embraced Arthur.
"How's the ruling business these days?"
"Busy as always," the prince said. "How is medicine? How long are you home?"
"Until the end of summer. I'm going back to the States for some additional training."
"But while you're here, you will provide consultation for the Secretary of Health and Human Services," Arthur said. Henry shook his head.
"Of course. You're always trying to get me to take a desk job."
"It's natural that I would want the brightest and best for my administration," Arthur said. Henry shook his head again, and his expression softened.
"You humble me. I'll always be grateful that you helped persuade Mother, to allow me to study medicine."
Gwen had the odd feeling, that she was observing something very personal. Although she was fascinated by the exchange between the two men, she didn't want to intrude.
She stood and began to move toward the door.
"Who's this?" Henry asked.
"I'm sorry...I should have introduced you," Arthur said. "Dr. Henry is my adopted brother. He is also a medical doctor. This is Miss Guinevere, Andrew's summer tutor from the United States."
"It's nice to meet you, Your Highness," she said, uncertain which title she should use, then added, "Doctor."
Henry chuckled and lifted her hand to his lips. "Henry is fine. Your American accent is refreshing. I suspect the palace protocol is driving you mad."
"Either that, or I am driving the protocol police mad," she said, her gaze drawn to Arthur.
"Perhaps Francis," Arthur conceded.
"And the Three Stooges," she added under her breath. Henry barked with laughter.
"You've met the advisors," he said, then turned to Arthur. "What a delightful woman. Where did you find her?"
"She's highly recommended in her field," he said. "We should celebrate your arrival tonight."
"This is one of the benefits of leaving the palace. They always throw a party when I return," Henry said, turning to Gwen. "You should come."
Reluctance shot through Gwen.
It would be a perfect party with perfectly coiffed people, and she would feel so out of place.
"Thank you, but I don't think so."
"Yes," Prince Arthur said, surprising the day lights out of her. "You must come."
"But isn't there some rule, about employees mixing with the royals?"
"Are you refusing my invitation?" Prince Arthur asked her, in the same silky voice, she suspected he'd used, when he told his advisors he would take their opinions under advisement.
She could've almost sworn, she'd seen a flare of sexual challenge in his eyes.
Her heart raced.
Not possible, she told herself.
She cleared her throat.
"I get the impression, it's a big 'no-no' to refuse Your Highness's invitation."
"That would be correct," Prince Arthur said. She held her breath, certain the electricity she felt zinging between Arthur and her, was her imagination.
"Then I guess, that means, I'm coming to a party tonight. Does this also mean, I'm still employed as Andrew's tutor"
"Of course," Arthur said.
"Even though your wise counsel, may suggest otherwise," she said, unable to resist the slight taunt.
"The advisors offer advice. I make the decisions," Arthur said.
"There's a story here," Henry said, glancing from Gwen to Arthur. "I can't wait to hear it."
"Later," Arthur said, glancing at his watch. "I have an appointment with the prime minister in a few minutes. You can rest and decide if you want to demonstrate your rebellion, with your hair and wannabe beard," he said to his brother with a wry grin. And then,
"Mother's out of the country, so it may not be as much fun for you." Henry gave a mock sigh and turned to Gwen.
"An advantage really, because, the only person who nags me, when I don't shave, is Mother. Arthur is required to be perfect."
"Don't let Henry mislead you. He's no slouch. His academic performance has been stellar. He just likes to play the role of the un-prince," Arthur said, his pride in his brother obvious and appealing.
"If I ever get a day off, I may skip shaving, too," he threw in for good measure.
"I won't hold my breath," Henry said, with a mix of humor and respect. "My brother is what you Americans call, a type-A overachiever." Arthur rolled his eyes.
"As enjoyable as this is, I must leave for my meeting. I'll see you both tonight," he said, then left the room.
"A man in demand," Henry mused. "He has been since he was born."
He turned his curious gaze back to Gwen.
"You've impressed him." Gwen made a face.
"I think disrupted, would be a more accurate description."
"A little disruption is good for him," Henry said. "What do you think of my brother?"
"I don't know him very well...actually, I don't know him at all."
"But you have an opinion," Henry prodded.
"My opinion is just forming," she hedged, reluctant to share her thoughts with anyone.
"With the exception of Mother and our sister, my brother is accustomed to women, who agree with every breath he takes. I suspect you're not so agreeable."
"You suspect correctly," she said.
Finding Arthur's brother entirely too perceptive, she decided to leave.
"It's a pleasure to have met you, Your Highness...Doctor. Please excuse me, while I make the futile search, for something appropriate to wear to your party tonight."
She briefly wondered, if there was a way she could skip the event.
"You must attend," Henry reminded her, as if he could read her mind.
"Yes, I know," she muttered, still hoping for a way out. "Orders from His...High and Mightiness," she added for her own benefit. "I'll see you tonight," she said, and headed for her room, her mind filled with thoughts of Arthur.
So there was heart and determination behind his perfect facade.
She felt herself surprisingly drawn to Arthur.
It was as if, the lens through which she'd viewed him, cleared a little more and she saw him in a different light.
Another layer revealed.
Her respect and fascination grew, as did her questions.
As a teacher, Gwen knew the power of curiosity.
She was also mature enough, however, to know that, curiosity about a man, could lead a woman down a treacherous path.
But the more she learned about Arthur, the more she wanted to know.
Later, that evening, the party was in full swing and Gwen was surprisingly enjoying herself...for the moment.
Sometimes, she'd laughed a little too loudly. Her dress was unsuitably casual and her hair was as impertinent, as her personality.
But every man in the room kept looking at her, including Prince Arthur, who knew he was no exception.
Irritated, he tried to focus on the lovely, soft-spoken widowed countess, who had been fawning over him all evening.
He nodded, as she continued to praise the wine selection.
At one point, Arthur had considered telling her, he had no part in that decision, but he refrained. Barely.
His 'sister-in-law' caught his eye and took pity on him.
William's wife, Anjolie, walked towards him and smiled at the countess.
"We're delighted you could attend this evening, Countess Buford. The royal palace has a beautiful selection of Renoir paintings, in one of the parlors. I'd love to show you." And then, "You can take a breather," she murmured for his ears only.
Arthur nodded in silent gratitude and immediately headed for the balcony.
The scent of flowers was sweet in the humid night air, the string quartet played a soothing refrain, and the lights from the cottages, throughout the countryside glittered like a thousand candles.
Arthur inhaled deeply.
Before he had time to exhale, however, his moment of respite, was invaded by a swirl of dark hair and a groan, as Gwen ducked into the balcony and leaned against the wall.
Arthur watched her for a long moment, before he spoke. Her skin glimmered in the moonlight, her lips shiny, eyelids closing out the world.
"You don't like the party?" he ventured. Her eyes flashed opened in surprise.
"Oh! I thought I was alone." He lifted an eyebrow.
"So did I."
"Sorry. I can look for a closet." Unable to restrain a smile, he shook his head.
"No. You can stay. But you didn't answer my question. You don't like our party?" She met his gaze in the dark.
"Do you want me to be tactful or truthful?"
"Truthful, always," he said immediately. He couldn't explain it, but he craved her particular brand of honesty.
"It's a little stiff. It needs something. Motown or Lenny Kravitz."
"A boombox blaring a remake of American Woman," he said, certain his ancestors, would turn back flips in their graves. Gwen looked at him in surprise.
"You've heard of Lenny Kravitz?" Slightly irritated, he recalled, how she'd assessed his age as older. He shouldn't give a damn she viewed him that way, but he did.
"You expected me to be only familiar, with dead classical composers?" She winced.
"Well, I haven't heard those strings try any hip-hop. I guess, I just thought the music would reflect your personality."
"And that is?" he asked, his tone clipped, even to his own ears. She hesitated.
"I don't really know you well enough to judge."
"Exactly," he said.
"But if I had to say," she continued, "I would describe you as restrained, so I would expect your taste in music, to reflect that quality."
She studied him for a moment.
"Do you ever yell?" she asked. Arthur felt like yelling right now.
"The problem with a man in my position, yelling is the chain effect it causes. For example, if I had a screaming match with you right now, the guards would rush out here and haul you off to interrogate you. Even though you would be cleared of any hypothetical charges, you would be regarded with suspicion, during the rest of your stay in Wales."
She looked at him, with a combination of empathy and sympathy. And Irritation nicked through him again.
"I don't need your sympathy," he said. Her eyes widened, as if she were surprised, he'd read her so easily.
She met his gaze, then walked closer to him and shook her head.
"How can I not feel sorry for you? Your position can't help, but make you incredibly lonely and isolated."
"I'm surrounded by people every day."
"Surrounded by people, with whom you must measure every word, every gesture. Is there anyone you can trust enough, to yell, or cry, or joke with?"
"I can joke with my sister and brothers," he said, then honesty forced him to add, "At times." Gwen shrugged.
"Call me crazy, but it looks to me, as if you work damn hard for this country and I think you deserve to have someone, looking out for your good."
"I have many servants, who make sure I am fed whatever pleases me and take care of my clothing. I even have a palace doctor at my disposal."
She shook her head and extended her hand, as if she were going to touch him. At the last moment she pulled back, as if she'd thought better of her action.
Arthur felt an odd sense of loss.
"I don't think you're getting it," she started, "Who worries about your personal happiness?"
Her question silenced him, echoing inside him.
His happiness.
What a novel concept.
What an impossible concept.
He brushed it aside.
"My happiness isn't the top priority."
"Well it should be for somebody," she said. She hesitated a moment, then lifted her lips in a slow grin. "With your personal happiness in mind, I think I'll give you a few moments' peace. Excuse me," she said.
And left him with the terrible sense, that she had just found and opened his Pandora's box.
Hope it was good enough. Stay safe and stay blessed.