The Unlawfully Wedded Princess

Ellie! Exactly who Amelia needed to see. She popped out of her chair. “I’ll bring her out here. Maybe she’ll want a sandwich—there’s plenty of crab salad left.”

Amelia wended her way through the kitchen and up the back stairs, following Quincy as he led her to Ellie, who was just coming out of the king’s suite. She heard the king’s final murmured words to her as she closed the door behind her.

“Here you go,” Quincy said, then shuffled off to do whatever it was he did when he wasn’t butlering—possibly getting himself a little nip of sherry.

“Amelia!” Eleanor said as she shoved some papers into her briefcase. “You didn’t have to escort me down. I just wanted to pop in and say hi to everyone.”

“But I wanted to speak to you privately,” Amelia said. Not here in the hallway, though, where someone might overhear. She led Ellie into an empty suite across the hall from Easton’s quarters and closed the door.

“Why all the mystery?”

“Is Nick still in New York?”

Ellie looked at her watch. “For about forty more minutes. His plane leaves at 2:05.”

“Plane to where?”

“To Korosol, of course. Where did you think?”

“LaGuardia, or JFK?” Amelia asked urgently.

“JFK.”

“What airline?”

“Air France, I think. Amelia, what is this about?” She gave Ellie a quick hug. “I don’t have time to explain. Tell the family I’m…running an errand.”

She sprinted down the hall to her own room, not really thinking or planning her actions, just running on pure instinct. There was no time to order the limo—she would have to take a taxi. She’d regretted her decision to abandon Nick and the kids to the fates. This was the only way to make it right again.

From her room she grabbed big sunglasses, a hat and a long, bulky jacket that disguised her figure, which sometimes drew unintended attention despite the fact she did little to show it off. As she crept down the main stairs, she stuffed her telltale blond curls into the hat, shoved the glasses onto her face and donned the jacket.

She would have to sneak past the security station. The guard on duty couldn’t keep his eyes on everything at the same time. While he checked the various monitors, she darted past him to the elevator. Ordinarily she was expected to let security know where she was going, but she didn’t have time for lengthy explanations.

Her luck held—no one saw her exit the Carradignes’ private elevator. Walking without her usual bold stride and confident gaze, shuffling along staring at the ground in front of her, she was a master at blending into crowds when she had to.

Once outside, she quickly secured a cab. “JFK, please, and there’s an extra twenty in it for you if you make it to the Air France gate in thirty minutes.”

“Yes, lady!” the Ethiopian driver said. He punched the gas pedal and the car jolted forward.

Amelia’s luck held out as they encountered no traffic jams in the Queens Tunnel. The cabbie made it with two minutes to spare. Amelia shoved some cash at him and leaped out of the taxi without a backward glance.

She found the flight to Korosol on the Air France monitor. It was on time, probably the only flight all afternoon that wasn’t running behind. So much for luck. She dashed through the airport until she reached the gate, which was devoid of passengers. Everyone had boarded already, but the plane was still at the gate.

Amelia zeroed in on the ticket agent. “I really need to speak to someone on that plane,” she implored.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I can’t—Oh my gosh, you’re Princess Amelia.”

Amelia decided that for once she could use her royal heritage to advantage. “Yes, I am, and this is a matter of great importance to…to the royal family.” Well, a small part of it, anyway.

The ticket agent conferred with her co-worker, then looked back at Amelia. “The passenger’s name?”

“Nicholas Standish.”

She began punching buttons on her computer, driving Amelia wild with impatience. What was she doing?

The agent appeared confused. “Nicholas Standish is on the list, but he never checked onto this flight. Neither did Jakob or Josie Standish.”

Amelia stifled a gasp. It was just as she feared. Nick was running away with the kids. Think, Mellie, think. What would be his plan? He would go somewhere where he and the children could speak the language. Of course, Nick could speak half a dozen languages with some facility. But the children…only three. English, Russian and some French.

Canada—it had to be Canada. She thanked the agent, then walked as briskly as she dared without drawing attention down the terminal toward Canadian Airways.

He would go to a big city, where he could become anonymous. Quebec? Toronto? They spoke French in Quebec. Amelia checked the monitor. One flight had left at one-thirty, another was scheduled for three-fifteen. She went to the gate for the later flight. No Nick, no children.

Her hopes sank. Finding Nick in this airport would be like finding a particular grain of sand on a beach. He might have taken a completely different airline. For that matter, he might have gone to a different airport. Or he might be driving across the border with forged documents.

Amelia had one last idea. She went to an information phone and dialed the operator. “I need to page Nicholas Standish. Can you ask him to meet…his wife at the Canadian Airways ticket counter?”

“Yes, ma’am, I’d be happy to do that for you.”

A few seconds later, the page went out over the loudspeaker. Amelia found a chair across from Canadian Airways and sat down to watch and wait.

NICK NEARLY JUMPED out of his skin when he heard his name over the loudspeaker.

“Uncle Nick, they just called your name,” Josie said, sounding alarmed. “Are we in trouble for missing our plane?”

Nick smiled at her. “No, Josie. But I’d better find out what’s going on.” The only person who knew he was here was Ellie. His hopes rose. Maybe she had news from the king. Maybe Easton had changed his mind.

He and the children had missed their flight to Korosol. They’d had plenty of time, but as he stood in line to check in, Nick hadn’t been able to take that next step. He wasn’t sure why. Clearly there was nothing else to be done to further his cause in New York. But the thought of returning to his village and waiting passively while the Ministry of Family took steps to remove his children…well, it was a difficult step to take.

He’d taken the kids to a fast-food place and bought them chocolate shakes to give him some time to think, though the previous two days of thinking hadn’t yielded good results.

There was a courtesy phone right across from the restaurant where they’d gotten the shakes. Nick could answer the page and still keep watch over the kids.

“Be right back,” he said. Moments later he was talking to an operator.

“Yes, Mr. Standish. Your wife would like you to meet her at the Canadian Airways ticket counter.”

“My wife?” Not Ellie, then. Couldn’t be anyone but Amelia. His heart beat double time at the implications her words conjured up. What was the princess up to this time? And how the hell had she figured out he was thinking about Canada? “Thank you.”

Though he’d studiously avoided returning her calls, there was no way he could ignore Amelia’s summons.

He gathered up the kids and luggage—thankfully they’d traveled light, having planned for only a weekend—and headed for the rendezvous point, walking so fast that Josie had to trot to keep up with him.

He saw Amelia before she saw him. Though she’d hidden her magnificent gold hair under a hat and wore huge dark glasses, he was intimately familiar with her body language. She sat in a chair with one knee drawn up under the skirt of her flowery dress. He tried to summon some anger against her for the torture she’d caused him, but right now she looked so worried he realized she carried some burdens of her own.

“Auntie Mellie!” Jakob squirmed from Nick’s arms and ran toward Amelia, whose face lit up with joy at the sight of him—at all of them. She rose and welcomed Jakob into a hug. Whether the boy remembered Amelia from Palemeir, he’d certainly taken a shine to her here in New York.

“What’s she doing here?” Josie asked, instantly suspicious.