The Prince's Secret (Prince Harry Fanfic)

Part 25 - "You should be more careful."

Harry

As soon as Samantha was in the elevator I picked up my phone and called Duncan to bring the car around. I didn't even bother to read the texts from Meg, just typed in a quick 'Heading home. Be there soon. <3' and grabbed my coat. I'd already arranged for the housekeeper to stop by tonight and tidy up before Geoffrey and Elaine came home next week.

I had just stepped on the sidewalk when a familiar female voice behind me said, "You should be more careful."

I spun around. My cousin Eugenie enveloped me in a hug, kissing my cheek lightly. "You look happy," she said.

I smiled. "I am. Very happy."

"Happier than you were a few days ago at Sandringham?"

"Quite possibly," I said.

"Would it have anything to do with the lovely blonde woman in the absolutely fabulous tapestry coat I just saw leaving the flat a few minutes before you?"

She caught me by surprise and took it me a moment to recover. Forcing a laugh, I said, "Oh, her? Just met her this evening actually. The Barries had an after-holiday luncheon."

"And didn't invite your fiancee?"

"Well, Meg—"

"Harry, I know very well that the Barries are in Klosters till next week. Elaine and I were chatting about it before Christmas."

"Well, you see—"

Eugenie took my arm, tucking her hand in the crook of my elbow. "Walk with me a little way."

"I'm waiting for the car. I'm just on my way home—"

"Walk with me," she said firmly. "The car can follow. We need to talk."

"Or we can get in the car, and we'll drop you off."

"I'd rather walk."

I gave up, and we walked towards Hyde Park in the deepening twilight.

"So is there anything you want to tell me?" Eugenie asked.

I sighed. Too many people knew about Sam already, but Eugenie was like a bulldog when she set her mind on something. The less I got away with telling her, the better. "Not really."

"I meant what I said, Harry. You should be more careful. If I saw you leaving a flat with a lovely blonde woman, it won't be long before someone else sees it too. And if you have any secrets that you hope to keep from the press or your fiancee, you'd better work harder at it."

"Dammit," I swore. I didn't want to be keeping secrets. I didn't want to be sneaking around. But I couldn't let the press discover Samantha.

"You know," Eugenie continued, "I almost chased the woman down the street. Probably would have, but then I saw you, and that distracted me."

"Why would you chase Samantha down the street?" I asked.

If Eugenie noted the name, she made no sign of it. "I must know where she got that divine coat. I have to have one."

"It's her own design," I said with a smile.

"She's a fashion designer then? What's her name? I know you're a ruddy man, but do you know which shops carry her label?"

I had to laugh. "She's not quite in the shops just yet. She's still working out of her home. Custom pieces—totally bespoke."

Eugenie squealed. "An unknown designer? Fabulous! I must meet her. That coat was a work of art. If the workmanship is as good as I think it is, I might be able to help her make some connections. Introduce her to people. Get her work out there on the street."

Now I faced another dilemma. Eugenie worked at an art gallery and loved collecting clothing that crossed the line between fashion and art, exactly the kind of creations I had seen on Samantha. If Eugenie began wearing Sam's designs, it would give Sam's career an enormous boost, perhaps even getting her clothes into famous-name shops and into the hands of wealthy and highly-photographed people. It would be great for Sam's career, but would it be good for the two of us? For our burgeoning relationship? For our ability to keep that relationship a secret? Was I being selfish to want to keep Sam to myself for a while longer?

"Listen, Euge, she's a...special friend of mine," I began.

"So I gather," she said brightly.

"I'd like to keep...our friendship...on the private side for right now."

"And why is that?" Eugenie asked demurely.

"Dammit! I think you know why."

"I can keep secrets too, cuz. Maybe better than you can. You have a friend who designs beautiful coats. I want to purchase one. Why don't you just give her my number? Tell her we were talking about coats over the holidays and you thought I'd like to see what she has. Isn't that simple?"

"I guess so."

"You're making too big of a deal of this," Eugenie said. "I've never met her. I don't know anything about her other than she is your friend. That's it. That's all there is to it. Unless you have something else you want to tell me?"

I grimaced. "No. Not right now."

"Then I'll expect a call or text from your friend—what's her name?"

"Samantha. Samantha Walden," I said, and hoped that I was doing the right thing by connecting the two.

"And if I don't hear from Samantha, you can bet your boots I will let you know about it!" she said, laughing. "I see that your security guy is getting very unhappy at following us in the car and trying not to make a scene, so I'll let you go."

I darted a look over my shoulder. Duncan did, indeed, look unhappy, but it was probably nothing compared to the look I was going to get from Meg when I got home.

"I meant what I said earlier," Eugenie said, slipping her arm from mine and giving me another peck on the cheek. "Be careful, or you'll find that your secrets are not as secret as you would like."