The Heir And The Spare

#13

THIRTEEN

'Just when you think you haven't got anything left, take a deep breath and take one more step it could be the one thing that changes everything.' - Rachael Bermingham

I've sat in hair and makeup for a gruelling three hours. The meticulous hands of our beauty team made me look more alive than I have done for over a month. I had gawked at myself in the mirror for so long that my own reflection started to blur. But no matter how much foundation I am wearing, the bags under my eyes still show through.

It's hot today which is a gross understatement because I can feel the makeup start to dissipate from my face. The sun is out in full force and the modest baby blue sundress I wear is stuck to my skin from sweat. The garden party is in full swing. A band plays music under a canopy on the far left of the party and small tables with umbrellas for shade are situated neatly around the garden on looking at the large expanse of the palace. People mill about everywhere, chatting into their champagne flutes and digging their heels into the freshly mowed glass. The men hang onto their wives, glancing around the gardens with a half-bored expression and their hands in the pocket of their suit trousers. Waiters holding silver trays seem to silently edge their way around the crowd, filling empty hands and refilling half-drunk glasses.

I pull on the front of my dress when I'm convinced nobody is looking to let some air down my chest. The under-boob sweat is something else. I don't envy the men who are dressed in full-suit attire. I glance around the party and leave my glass on a table and make quick work of getting onto the patio. Although I have been here for about an hour, I am socially tapped out.

"Princess!" I hear someone call and I dart my eyes to look anywhere but where the voice came from. The press is here – of course – documenting more of James' search for a bride and they have been hounding me all afternoon. I have yet to make a statement to the camera and I don't plan on making one any time soon. I glance to my left and see a patch of shade beside the palace wall. That will do, I think, I need a moment of reprieve. I start to make my way there when I hear the same voice call my name again.

I glance over my shoulder to see Henry walking towards me. The man has more pep in his step than normal – almost like he's jogging. His suit jacket billows behind him with his fast pace showing there is some wind in the air today – somewhere that I can't feel.

"Is there a bomb I'm unaware of?" I say with a curl of a smile when he's within earshot.

"Do you enjoy running away, Princess?" Henry says with a grin as he slows in front of me. "Or do you enjoy the chase?"

"Can't I say both?"

"Indeed," Henry smirks. I rake my eyes over the Australian secret service agent, drinking in his appearance. It's the first time I have seen him in little over a month and he – like his insurable charge – seems to get better each time I look at him. I swear Australians have something in their blood.

"Are you not hot?" I ask, eyeing his black suit with a frown.

"Sweating like a barbeque," he shrugs, "but it's uniform."

"James needs to give you a break,"

"James, although powerful, doesn't decide what we wear."

"Not good for much then," I try to make it come out as light as possible, aware of the friendship between the two. I am not petty enough to pit his head of security against him.

I round the corner of the palace and walk deeper into the shade, letting out a big sigh and leaning against the wall of the palace. I can feel Henry watching me from where he stands and for some reason, knowing his eyes are on me makes me want to know how he sees me through his eyes.