The Prince's Secret (Prince Harry Fanfic)

Part 84 - Conversation in the Kitchen

Harry

Dropping in on William and Catherine was totally planned, even if I let Samantha think that it was spontaneous. I knew the timing wasn't the greatest—Catherine was in the last month of her pregnancy and had been feeling miserable for days, but she was eager to meet Sam and I didn't want to wait weeks until after the baby was born and Catherine was back on her feet.

I was really hoping that the two women would become close friends. Sam was going to need a lot of support in the next several months as she adjusted to her new life and I couldn't think of anyone better than Catherine to be her guide. Eugenie was wonderful, but she and Beatrice both had a rebellious streak that showed up at the most inopportune moments, splashing them on the front pages of the media wearing crazy hats or doing really stupid things and I wanted Sam's mentor to be someone who knew how to play the game to perfection and yet still remain true to herself. And that was Catherine.

And I was curious to see how Sam would fit in with the Cambridges. I spent a lot of time with Will and Catherine, for work and for pleasure, and it would make life so much easier if the four of us could enjoy working together as a solid unit. Meg and Catherine had been polite to each other—well, Catherine had been polite, and Meg was polite in public but disparaging at home—and the four of us had never really gelled. I felt like I had spent most of my time trying to smooth over all the rough edges between everyone. But Sam was different—she was more like me, and much more receptive to learning the ways of the royal family, instead of trying to change ages-old traditions to suit herself.

Things seemed to be going well as everyone got to know each other. George immediately latched onto Sam, playing the role of ambassador with ease. It took Charlotte a while to warm up to her, but once Sam settled down to read to the children, Charlotte curled up in the crook of Sam's arm quite comfortably, pointing out all the animals in the illustrations and begging for a chance to turn the next page.

I couldn't help but smile. It was a happy family scene, one that I hoped Samantha and I would have soon enough with children of our own. Sam would be a wonderful mother, and I could just picture her sewing baby quilts or tiny little dresses some day, when she was as heavily pregnant as Catherine was now.

I caught William's eye and he nodded at me, then gestured to the back of the house with his chin. I managed to ease my way off the sofa without disturbing the children, who were engrossed in the story. Catherine gave me a knowing smile as I followed Will down the hallway.

The Cambridges' kitchen was bright and both comfortable and utilitarian. A large island in the center had a row of barstools pulled up to it where the children often sat and had snacks or drew and painted while Catherine cooked dinner. I sat down on one of the stools and leaned my elbows on the counter while William opened the fridge.

"Something to drink?" he asked, pulling out a ginger beer.

I laughed. "I don't suppose you have anything a little more...adult?"

Will rolled his eyes and handed me a Carlsberg. "I usually wait till the kids are off to bed."

"I don't think they're going to notice me having one beer," I said, swigging out of the bottle.

"No, probably not," Will said, staring at the bottle in my hand. Then, "What the hell..." he said, and grabbed his own beer, although he took the time to pour his into a glass.

"So?" I asked.

Will raised a quizzical eyebrow at me.

"Samantha," I said, rapidly losing patience with my brother. "What do you think?"

He sipped his beer and then leveled a look at me. "My 20 minute judgment? The kids like her. She seems nice. And genuine. She doesn't clutch at your hand or your arm like she's afraid you'll escape, which is more than I can say about your previous fiancee. You two seem very happy together. And you look more relaxed than I've seen you in ages." Setting his glass down, Will said, "But really...does it matter what I think?"

"Of course it matters. Why do you think I brought her over here?"

Will shrugged. "Whether I love her or hate her—and I can't tell you either way, after this short of a visit—it's a done deal, isn't it? You're already married."

I finished off my beer with a giant gulp and set the bottle carefully down. "You know why I did what I did."

"I know why you felt you had to elope, yes."

"But you don't agree with it."

"You've only known Samantha for what?—five months? Six months?"

"Yeah, well, it didn't take me nine years to figure out she was the one I wanted to marry."

Will threw his arms open wide and shook his head. "Listen. I understand why you didn't marry Meg—and wow, we all dodged a bullet on that one. But you've put Gran in a very tight spot with this."

I stood up. "I put her in a tight spot? She was the one who wouldn't let me break off my engagement. I told her months ago that Meg was bad news and I didn't love her, and the Queen basically told me to go home and try harder. Marrying Sam was the only way to make sure I wouldn't be forced or cajoled or tricked into marrying someone else. And I'm not going to apologize for that."

"She's the Queen. She can't change the law. She has to follow it."

"Really? Didn't she just change the Succession Act a few years ago, so that it benefits you and your family? So Charlotte won't be bumped out of the line of succession by the new baby if it's a boy?"

That one hit home. I could see William start to simmer. And just like when we were arguing as kids, I couldn't stop, couldn't retire the field gracefully.

"Every day I thank the gods that I am not the heir to the throne. I don't want to live your life. Sometimes I think that being handed a dukedom and a country house and shuffled out of the line of succession and off into relative obscurity would be the best thing that could happen to me and Sam."

"You may get that," Will snapped. "Be careful what you wish for."

We stood there in the kitchen, almost toe to toe, like we were 8 and 6 and scrapping over a game or a sweet. "You're so much like Dad," I said, "always so mindful of your duty and your place."

"Well, you're too much like Mum," he said, "willing to throw it all away when it doesn't please you any more."

My hands were balled into fists and I knew if I stayed in the kitchen another second I would hit him. I turned blindly and stormed out of the kitchen, thinking only of getting Sam and getting out of the house before I said anything else, before I made the situation far worse than it already was.

Everything else was a blur until I found myself walking back across the park towards Nott Cott, Sam's hand squeezed tightly in mine.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked.

"Not particularly."

We walked in silence until we reached home. After we settled on the couch with the TV on, Sam said quietly, "Was he criticizing me?"

I looked down into her worried face. "No. He likes you. He was criticizing me. And I didn't take it very well."

"He's kind of intimidating," Sam admitted. "But Catherine was very nice. I think we're going to be friends."

I kissed her. "I'm glad you and Catherine hit it off. Don't worry about me and Will. We've argued before. He'll get over it. Or I will. One of these days."

I distracted her with another kiss, and turned off the TV. We were almost upstairs when Colin texted me. With some foreboding I looked at the message, then smiled.

"Better polish your boots tonight," I said.

"Why?" Sam looked puzzled.

"The Queen requests you join her for a ride at Windsor tomorrow. And tea."