He’s never taken drugs, nor does he drink to excess, but that is the first thing they would write. No, I simply cannot suddenly state that he is ill. Besides, any sickness serious enough to warrant canceling the trip would worry his family needlessly.”
“You could always tell them the truth, that he’s run off for a couple of days,” Hank suggested gently.
“I can’t do that to the king. Although I didn’t grow up in Belegovia, I’ve grown quite fond of the country and the royal family.”
“I’m just not sure I can help you. I’ve never really tried, but I don’t think I’m much of an actor.” He’d talked to one of those Hollywood types about a role in a film once while a movie company had been in Austin, but Hank just didn’t see himself as a either a “pretty boy” or a thug, and he sure didn’t want to play some stereotypical Texas cowboy. He sure wasn’t a prince. Nope, he was a horse trainer now.
She seemed to deflate, slumping back against the sofa. The fire went out of her pretty whiskey-colored eyes. “I’d so counted on a successful trip…the triumph that would bring needed revenues into Belegovia. The country has come so far in so few years, but King Wilheim has such plans…plans Prince Alexi shares. But as of this morning, he’s off with a petite blond waitress from that truck stop on the interstate, and I—”
“Kerry Lynn? He’s gone and run off with Kerry Lynn Jacks?”
“I believe that is her name. As a matter of fact, she gave me the idea of asking you to fill in for the prince—indirectly, of course, since she had no idea she would be running off with the prince at the time—when she mentioned you and she were once involved.”
“Not serious. But that’s beside the point. What in the world was Kerry Lynn thinkin’, runnin’ off with some foreign prince?”
“I believe he was being noble at the time. Something about her unreliable car and a trip to see some relatives…Besides, he can be most compelling when he applies himself.”
“But still, she’s no fool. He must have fed her a line of bull.” Hank shook his finger at the British lady as he leaned forward. “If that prince so much as lays a finger on her, he’ll be answerin’ to me!”
“She kissed him!”
“What?” He slumped back into the recliner.
“Right there in the truck stop, she kissed him. She thought he was you, and she threw her arms about his neck quite enthusiastically and kissed him on the mouth.”
Hank smiled. “Kerry is a bit impulsive. I hadn’t been by to visit in quite a while and I suppose she was just glad to see me.” Hank rubbed his bristly chin. “Say, what date is this, anyway?”
“Wednesday, May 8.”
“Dang it! I’ll bet Kerry thought I was bringing her a graduation present. She’s getting her degree from Southwest Texas State University on Saturday.”
Lady Wendy looked a bit green. “How old is this young woman?”
“Well, she’s three years younger than me, so that would make her twenty-eight.”
The lady seemed to relax. “I thought for a moment that Prince Alexi had run off with someone…younger.”
He almost heard her unspoken words—much younger. Jailbait younger. Hank had to chuckle despite the serious situation of Kerry being off on her own with some foreign prince. “She’s been going to college part-time for as long as I can remember ’cause she helps her mother and sisters by working as a waitress.”
“If she’s graduating on Saturday, surely she won’t be gone long. Today’s Wednesday. If you’ll agree to stand in for the prince, I’m sure it would only be for a day or two. Miss Jacks will return with him, you and Prince Alexi can switch places, and we’ll continue the tour as planned.”
Hank shook his head again. “Haven’t you been listening? I’m a Texan, not some fancy foreigner. I can’t talk like I grew up in Europe and lived in god-awful Boston for five years.”
Lady Wendy brightened. “If that’s your only objection, then we’ll give you a sore throat. Laryngitis won’t cause any suspicion from the press.”
“Whoa, now! I didn’t say that was my only objection. I’d like to point out I don’t exactly act like a prince.”
“I can teach you.”
Hank settled back against the body-warmed leather and thought about the offer. A couple of days with Lady Wendy, learning to be a prince. No doubt eating with his pinkie sticking out. He almost grimaced at the image. For all he knew, this Prince Alexi was some dandified intellectual who knew all about Beethoven and nothing about George Strait. He probably thought Garth Brooks was some little ol’ stream in Wisconsin.
On the other hand, it wouldn’t hurt to learn some manners. Like how to eat those tiny snacks they always served at country clubs. How to order something besides a longneck if he wanted a drink. How to wear something besides new jeans and a clean shirt when he wanted to dress up.
Rich cutting-horse owners often asked him to join them in their boxes during competitions. He also had to go to cocktail parties and some fancy dinners in Houston and Dallas—sometimes even outside of Texas—to meet the kind of people who could afford a twenty- to fifty-thousand-dollar horse. He knew he needed some polish, but so far he’d gotten by with his grin and his championship bronc-riding buckle.
If anyone could make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear in just a day or two, Hank had a real good idea Lady Wendy was the person. She’d at least give it a good British try, he thought with a grin.
“You know, I could probably call Kerry’s momma, Charlene Jacks, at the Four Square Café to find out where they all went,” Hank said.
“But you don’t quite understand, Mr. McCauley. If the prince doesn’t want to be found, if he doesn’t want to come back, nothing will convince him otherwise. I think our time will be best spent training you for tomorrow’s events, then we can find the prince. Or perhaps he will come back. He always does.”
Hank thought about this for a moment. He really didn’t want to end this opportunity so quickly, even if they could locate the prince and convince him to come back. Plus he was very intrigued by the formidable Lady Wendy.
She’d looked so forlorn at the prospect of failing. He wasn’t sure why this job was so important to her—she wasn’t from Belegovia, and she’d claimed she wasn’t sweet on the prince—but whatever the reason, all the starch had gone out of her when he’d questioned her plan. He wasn’t sure he could act like some European prince, but he couldn’t live with the idea that he’d failed her.
“Laryngitis, hmm?” he asked, still grinning. “I’ll cut my hair. I’ll even wear this prince’s fancy clothes. But don’t think I’m gonna stick out my pinkie when I drink out of one of those sissy china cups.”
GWENDOLYN SUPPRESSED A sigh of relief when Mr. McCauley acquiesced to her plan for him to impersonate the prince. At least he’d give it a good try, she was sure, because for some reason he’d decided to help her. It wasn’t the money; something else motivated Hank McCauley. Perhaps he wasn’t as broke or lazy as he appeared. She certainly wished she knew what did motivate him, since she would no doubt need that
