Royals and Rebels 3: The Heartbreak Prince

Three: Prince Henry

Three

Prince Henry

I saw her first.

Not that that should be a determining factor in anything, but it was the truth. When Delilah came into our lives, I saw my brother change. He went from being an uptight, serious prick to being a kinder, loving person. Then I met the girl made of sunshine who had made him change, and I understood why. I wanted that for myself, and then I learned she had a sister.

The first time I met her was at Derek’s birthday. She’d been standing off to the side, wearing a lilac dress, and looking confused.

“So,” I said when I walked up to her, “I’ve been ordered upon pain of death by your sister that I’m supposed to keep you entertained.”

She rolled her eyes. “You don’t have to do that. I’m a big girl.”

“On the contrary, it’s for the good of the family that I do that. Think of the scandal it would cause if you weren’t having fun! They’d say that you disapproved of the wedding.”

She frowned. “Ugh, I hate that you’re right.”

“At least one dance,” I said, “just for the pictures.”

“Fine,” she relented.

I smiled, and pulled her onto the dance floor. It was my good fortune that they happened to play an Ed Sheeran song at that exact moment. Nice, slow, and romantic. Cecelia laughed nervously. “People are going to get the wrong impression.”

I shrugged. “Let them,” I said.

“Don’t you have a girlfriend?”

“Of course,” I said, “and I love Vivian. But if I lived my life doing only what wouldn’t cause a scandal, I wouldn’t be living life at all. Besides, you’re going to be my sister-in-law. We should be friends, at least. Because soon, knowing my brother, there’s going to be a baby Tudor walking around. Possibly more than one. And we have to think of the children don’t we? Can’t have birthdays be awkward because Auntie Cecelia and Uncle Henry don’t like each other.”

She laughed again, and this time it was a genuine one. I loved that sound. I wanted to bottle that sound. Cecelia Porter had a small frame, brown hair, and brilliant hazel eyes with bits of gold in them.

“Come on, I’ll show you the library after,” I said, when the dance finished. It was at that exact moment someone from the press snapped a photo of us. It was all over the news, and all over the internet the next day with people speculating that we’d be walking down the aisle next.

It was ridiculous, of course. Everyone knew that I was with Vivian, and that we’d been together since we were fourteen. There were even pictures of us dancing. Yet, when I saw that picture I couldn’t help thinking about how nice we looked together.

Then, her parents died.

I don’t think she remembered much of the funeral. If she did, I was certain that she wouldn’t like me very much. And it was perhaps to my benefit that she didn’t remember.

After, when her parents had been taken to High Gate cemetery, I stayed with her by the tombstones. Delilah hadn’t been able to. She’d had royal obligations with my brother, and I’d been instructed to stay with her. At that point, Cecelia hadn’t been part of the royal household yet so she had no security. But since the terrorist attack, Delilah hadn’t felt comfortable with having Cecelia alone. So, I stayed with her so she could have security guards with her.

She stayed by her parents graves, sobbing in the rain, and I held her hand as she did it. It was a quiet moment. As she cried, I wrapped my arms around her to keep her warm while the rain poured down.

At one point, she looked up at me. Her tears were mixed with the rain and I could no longer tell which was which. All I knew in that moment was that she was pretty, and sad, and I desperately wanted to make her feel better.

I found myself kissing her. It wasn’t meant to be romantic, even. I just wanted to make her feel better, and that was the only way that I could think of. She never said anything about it later, and I wasn’t going to bring it up.

Except, that was all I could think about that night at the club. Jude was half in love with her, Marlowe was ready to claim her for herself….and all I could think about was the kiss in the graveyard.

I wanted her. I needed her. I couldn’t have her. But she was right in under my roof, and we had a long, hot, summer ahead of us.

My friends each took a guest room, and I went upstairs to hers which was right across from mine.

I knocked on the door.

“Go away,” she called.

I chuckled, and opened the door anyway. “Champagne headache?”

She groaned in response. “I hate you. Next time there’s debauchery, leave me out of it.”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” I said. “Scooch over.”

“Ungh,” was the response that I got.

I moved her over, and crawled into her giant bed. “Too bad, Porter. You’ve been voted in. You’re part of The Lonely Hearts Club now.”

“You’ve named yourselves?” she made herself sit up, suddenly a little bit awake and interested.

“Well, Daisy did,” I said, “she’s like that. Thought it was fitting since we’re all rich and f****d up.”

“Hmm,” she said, “well, I’m not rich.”

“Cecelia, you’re officially part of the royal household. You’re one of the top five richest teenagers in England now. You’ve got a title. A salary.”

“For doing what?” she said. “All I did was happen to have the right sister who fell in love with your brother.”

“Well, soon you’ll be expected to do royal events and things. But I don’t expect Gran will make you do it right away. She knows what’ it’s like to lose someone, and you weren’t born into this life. You’ll get time, I’ll make sure you do. Anyway, it’s too late to unsubscribe now. I think Jude’s already planning an entire album about you, and Marlowe’s decided you’re shiny.”

She laughed. “What does that even mean?”

“It means, he likes you, and he never likes anyone. I expect you’ll have an epic love story soon.”

“I don’t want an epic love story,” she said, “I want my parents, and I want my tiny apartment in Brixton, and I want my school, and my friends.”

I wrapped an arm around her, and she rested her head on my shoulder. “I know, Porter. But if you can’t have that, you might as well have us. We’re not so bad you know. We throw fabulous parties, we’re all terribly good looking, and at least half of us are in love with you.”

“Promise not to break my heart?” she asked.

I laughed, and kissed her on the forehead. “Absolutely, Porter. Absolutely.” She wrapped her arms around me, and fell asleep using my head as a pillow. I promised not to break her heart. I didn’t make any promises not to fall in love with her. It was a good thing, too. Because I feared that I was already halfway there.