Sovalon Royals: The Complete Series Read online

  A voice made her nearly jump out of her shoes.

  “Need a ride, Miss Wicke?” Lance, Edward’s wry driver, stood in the doorway to his office, his hands in his pocket, his driver’s cap tilted sideways on his head.

  “Yes, please, Lance,” she whispered. Her hands went to her cheeks to check they weren’t wet with tears. She didn’t want Lance to see her crying. “I’d like to go to the shop, Wicke Salvage.”

  “No problem, ma’am.”

  She followed Lance outside to the governor’s drive where the car was parked and took one last look at the stone gate she’d worked hard to restore to its former grandeur.

  Goodbye, lovely castle.

  Goodbye, once-lovely Prince.

  As they drove away from Kawell Castle, Clem reminded herself to breathe.

  But every time she did, she started to cry.

  Edward stood back to marvel at the crowd of people in the newly restored ballroom. Groups of men and women, decked out in tuxedos and floor-length gowns, dotted the room. Others were meandering around the grounds and through the rooms, inspecting the restoration job. A man with wire-rimmed glasses and a top hat approached him, a silver-haired woman on his arm.

  “Prince Edward,” the man said, beaming at Edward. “I must admit I was less than confident in your ability to salvage Kawell Castle.” He held a hand out for Edward to shake, and Edward took it.

  “I’m Jonathan Stokes, president of the Sovalon Historical Society. While we’ve spoken on the phone, I believe this is our first meeting in person.” He gestured to the woman beside him. “And this is my wife, Claudia.”

  Edward at once recognized the voice of the man who’d berated him on the phone several times during the process of working on the castle.

  “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Stokes,” Edward lied.

  “What you’ve done here is no less than amazing, your majesty,” the old man said. He raised a glass of champagne to toast Edward, and his wife followed suit. “Cheers to you, Prince Edward. Job well done.”

  “Why, thank you, Mr. Stokes. I’m so glad you’re pleased.” Edward nodded to the couple. “Please excuse me. I need to see to someone about the catering.”

  “Everything is delicious,” Claudia said, smiling.

  “Thank you,” Edward replied and walked away. Although it felt good to have proven himself to someone like Jonathan Stokes who’d been nothing but a pain in his royal ass for months, he couldn’t shake a sense of emptiness.

  Violin music floated in the air, as a server approached him.

  “Hors d’oeuvre, Prince Edward?” she offered.

  He eyed the tray of what looked like crab cakes topped with caviar.

  “No, thank you,” he said and pushed further into the ballroom. Everything looked perfect from the golden balloons floating near the ceiling to the dazzling chandelier Clementine had rejuvenated.

  Suddenly he realized why he was feeling so ill at ease. Clementine was nowhere to be seen. The realization of her absence was a punch to his gut. She should be here with him, celebrating their accomplishment. Where was she?

  A tall man with a bright purple bow tie approached Edward, his hand outstretched. “Prince Edward,” he gushed. “Let me express my appreciation for your work here.” He leaned closer, a snide look on his face. “I wasn’t quite on board with your restoration plans. I’m of the thought that we should clear out the old to make room for the new, you know. But you’ve done an impressive job here.”

  Edward narrowed his eyes at the man. “Mister…Middleton, is it?” The man was one of his father’s associates, but Edward had only met him a handful of times.

  “That’s right—Stuart Middleton. I’m an adviser to your father,” he said. “By the way, nice work closing on the Glen County farmhouse. You got it for a steal.”

  “Excuse me?” Edward hadn’t realized his father had already made his move on the property. He’d wanted to look into it for Clem first. A sick feeling came over him.

  “That property is the perfect setting for condos. As soon as you tear down the rickety old farmhouse, you’ll be set.”

  “I’m sorry,” Edward said and started away from the smarmy man. “I have to talk with my father.”

  The king stood near the bar, clinking champagne glasses with a man Edward recognized as one of his father’s attorneys. As he approached, he heard them laughing.

  “Father, can I have a word?” he asked.

  “Absolutely,” the king said. “Excuse me, Brian, I need to talk with my son, the miracle worker. Brian and I were just saying that what you’ve done here is nothing short of magical.”

  “Bravo, young man,” Brian said. “And all within the deadline. You really know how to get the historical society off of your old man’s back!”

  King Hanson and his lawyer were laughing again, and Edward recognized that it wasn’t the work he and Clementine had done, the actual restoration, that impressed his father. Salvaging the castle was a means to an end—the end being satisfying the historical society so that they could move forward with other projects under less scrutiny. His father didn’t care about the castle.

  Of course, he hadn’t cared about it either at the beginning. It was only after getting to know Clem that he learned to see the importance of working hard to restore beautiful things, like the Kawell Castle. He still believed in progress and innovation, but he no longer felt that tearing down the past was the only way to build for the future. For better or for worse, she’d left a lasting impression on him and maybe even helped him to uncover what he really valued.

  And how had he repaid her? By failing to protect her dreams for the future.

  “Did you purchase the Glen County farmhouse?” he asked his father. He was finished with the congratulations, the pomp and the air of celebration.

  “I certainly did,” his father proclaimed. “That property is a goldmine, and we couldn’t afford to lose it.”

  At once, he knew why Clem wasn’t here celebrating with him. A chill ran down his arms, as he turned from his father and began walking away.

  “Where are you off to, son?” his father called after him.

  Edward didn’t bother to turn around and face his father when he answered. “I need to find someone.”

  He searched high and low, in every wing and room of Kawell Castle. But no matter where he turned, he couldn’t find her.

  Clementine Wicke was gone.

  13

  A shimmer of dust mites billowed in the artificial light inside the shop as Edward pushed into Wicke Salvage, where he saw Clem standing behind the back counter. He knew it was late, but he’d hoped to find her here. At the sound of the jangling bells on the door, her head shot up in surprise. It was after closing time, but she must have forgotten to lock the door. At once, her eyes shone with what looked like hope to Edward, but they quickly drained of all emotion. She eyed him blandly then looked back down at an iron doorknocker she was polishing.

  “Can we talk?” Edward asked. He took the liberty to cover her hand with his, but she pulled away as if he were on fire.

  “I’m busy at the moment.” She began arranging things behind the counter. Edward’s heart squeezed inside his chest as he watched her. “There’s nothing to say anyway, Edward.”

  “Listen, Clem, as soon as I realized you were gone, I left the gala to come looking for you.”

  She stopped what she was doing and gave him a once over, looking altogether unimpressed.

  “Well, now’s not a good time,” she said. “Go back to the gala. You apparently have a lot to celebrate.”

  Edward heard the cold sneer in her voice and knew she was referring to the acquisition of the farmhouse.

  “I swear I didn’t know we made that purchase until about an hour ago, when my father told me.” Edward was not above pleading at this point. “My father did it all on his own.”

  Clem eyed him silently then. Her shoulder sagged, and her fight seemed to fall away. One question tumbled from her lips, slaying him.


  “Did you even ask your father to consider not purchasing the farmhouse?”

  He said nothing and looked away, shame pooling in his gut, regret swallowing him.

  “That’s what I thought,” Clem said and nodded sadly. “Look, Edward, at this point, it really doesn’t matter anymore who pulled the trigger on the purchase. You didn’t fight to save it.” She paused and spoke more quietly. “You didn’t care enough about my dreams to try to save them.”

  Edward’s heart twisted at her words. Mostly because he knew she was right. He had been so consumed with finishing up the castle and planning the gala, that he hadn’t even gone to his father about the farmhouse. He’d assumed it could wait.

  How was he going to fix this now?

  “Let me make this up to you,” he begged. “I can buy you any property you want. Any land—your choice. I’ll build you a huge new house. You can design it.”

  The look on Clem’s face made Edward regret his suggestion almost before the words left his lips. He should have known better than to offer to build her a new house—that had never been her dream. He was digging a hole for himself, deeper with every word he said.

  In frustration he ran a hand through his hair and besieged her with his eyes. “Please, Clem, I need you to forgive me.”

  Clem drew one long breath in and then let it out before responding to Edward. Even though he’d broken her heart and trashed her dreams, she still had feelings for him. Feelings she needed to extinguish—the sooner the better. Clearly they were going nowhere, and now that the castle project was finished, he would be out of her life completely. She could forget him—just as soon as she could get him to leave.

  “Look, Edward.” She stared straight into his big dark eyes. “You just don’t get it. You don’t get me at all, actually.” A tear leaked from the corner of one eye, and she hastily wiped it away. “Do you really think you can win me over with money or gifts? Me? The woman who loves restoring old things, remember?”

  “I know, but—”

  “Stop.” She held a hand out, signaling him to shut up. “Shiny new things don’t impress me. The fact that you don’t know that is a clear indication that we were never meant to last.”

  She winced a little as Edward let his head drop forward. He tucked his hands in his pockets, and his shoulders drooped. He looked defeated, and, despite what he’d done or failed to do, she felt badly for him.

  “The work on the castle has been a dream, and I thank you for bringing me on board for that.”

  He looked up and smiled weakly. “Hiring you was the best decision I could have made for the project…” He looked away. “And for me.”

  “I’ve enjoyed getting to know you, and this, whatever this was, has been fun,” she said. “But now it’s time to end it.” She bit her lip to keep from crying. “We both want different things. We could never work.”

  Finally he looked back up at her. “You’re right,” he said. “I wish you the best, Clem.”

  Clem watched him walk out of the shop, wondering if and when she’d ever see him again. On the news for sure. At protests, maybe. Would it always hurt this much to see his dark eyes, the ones that looked at her as if she were the only person in the world who mattered? Would she ever forget the way his hands so carefully caressed every inch of her that afternoon under the open sky at the mill? She’d revealed the most secret places of herself to him—her scars, her sacred hopes. She’d never bared herself so completely to any man. And, she’d felt he’d done the same with her.

  Tears coursed down her cheeks as the memory replayed every tender moment she’d shared with Edward. The fact that they’d made strides together—that they were so opposite yet had been able to find common ground in some places—made the decision to break things off even more difficult. Would she always wonder how things could have been if she’d given it a chance?

  She grabbed the crumpled polishing cloth she’d been working with and used it to wipe the wetness from her face. She had to pull herself together. Breaking up with Edward was for the best.

  A flash of yellow from beneath a shoebox filled with brass sockets caught her eye. It was the corner of a slip of paper. She eased it out from under the box to see that it was a note from her father.

  Clem~

  167 Rue Janvier.

  There’s a property there slated for demo next week.

  An old church.

  Call and see about inspecting it before it’s destroyed.

  ~Dad

  P.S. Chicken and potatoes in the fridge if you’re hungry

  Clem wiped away the last of the tears on her cheeks. Investigating this old church was just what she needed to get her mind off Edward. She grabbed her oversized backpack and tossed it over her shoulder before slipping out the door and into the night.

  She’d vowed to Edward she would stop visiting demolition sites by herself, but the promise didn’t seem to hold water any longer. He’d broken her heart and stolen her dream farmhouse, so why shouldn’t she go on her own to collect a few items he was set to destroy? She didn’t need him by her side—she was fine on her own, just as she’d always been. Besides, she needed something to make her feel accomplished, to take her mind off of missing out on the grand gala at the castle and soothe her heartache after breaking things off with Edward.

  Some pilfering should do the trick.

  14

  “Dad, please turn down the television.” As if she wasn’t in enough discomfort lying in a hospital bed, her casted leg propped up vertically in a sling, her father was watching professional wrestling with the volume turned up to kingdom come. It was as if karma was coming at her post haste, punishing her for breaking her word to Edward.

  “Sorry, apricot, but my ears aren’t what they used to be, and I don’t want to miss this match,” her father said and took a slurp of his tea. “It’s a big one. Between Beefy McBride and The Spider.”

  “It’s fake, Dad.” Clementine’s patience was shot. “The matches are set ups; you know that, right?”

  “Shhh. Don’t ruin it for me,” he said and winked at her.

  She let out a long sigh. “Sorry I’m being a grump,” she said to her father.

  “Aw, don’t worry, sweetie.” He patted her arm. “I know you’re feeling lousy. Who wouldn’t, after what you’ve been through?”

  Clem grimaced, thinking of what had happened last night at the old church. She’d been hasty and careless, traipsing around the place without really watching her step. While trying to carve pieces of marble from windowpanes behind the altar, she’d fallen right through the rotting floor. Although she’d landed on her backside in the basement, pieces of the floor fell with her and landed on top of her leg, breaking it in two places.

  Luckily, she had phone service and was able to call an ambulance. In tremendous pain and mortified beyond belief, she’d been transported to the hospital where doctors assessed her immediately and sent her for emergency surgery.

  “At least it doesn’t hurt as much now that it’s set,” she said. The pain medication was helping as well.

  “I’m not just talking about your broken leg, Clementine.” Her father looked at her knowingly.

  Clem rolled her eyes. “I’m fine, Dad,” she said, but Dirk put a hand up to silence her.

  “For twenty years, it’s been you and me. We’ve been a team, Clem,” he said. “It hasn’t always been easy without your mom, but I like to think I did okay raising you on my own.”

  “Dad—” she started, but he hushed her.

  “I’m not finished. Because it was just the two of us, I got to know you pretty darn well.” He paused. “I know when you’re out pillaging landmarks to try to save the shop.”

  “You knew?”

  “Of course, I knew. I’m your father, Clem. I know everything.”

  Clem felt the hot shame rise onto her face. “I’m sorry, Dad—”

  “Still not finished.” He interrupted her again. “I knew when you were taking risks with your safety
. I knew you were snogging that young prince in the store room, and I knew you were falling hard for him.” Dirk’s face took on a sympathetic look. “And just like I knew all those things, I know now that your heart hurts.”

  Clem shrugged. It was useless to lie to him. Obviously.

  “And I’m sorry, honey.” He laid a finger on her cheek. “Want to tell me why it didn’t work out with Prince Charming?”

  Clem shook her head but the words came out anyway. “He wasn’t that charming, Dad,” she said. “We really seemed to hit it off there for a while, but in the end, we’re just too different. It was too much effort.”

  Dirk Wicke nodded silently for a moment. “Some things are worth the effort it takes to save them,” he said. “You, of all people, should know that.”

  “We’re total opposites,” she said. “You, of all people, should know that it could never work.”

  “Every relationship is different, Clem.” Dirk put a hand on her shoulder. “Just because your mother and I couldn’t get past our differences doesn’t mean all couples end up that way.”

  Clem rubbed her temples. The conversation was giving her a headache. And maybe the pain meds were wearing off. “Dad, I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Edward and I are finished. The end.”

  A knock at the door caught the attention of both Clem and her father. When she followed the sound, she found Edward standing in the doorway, a huge bouquet of flowers in his hands. Her face caught fire, as she wondered how long he’d been standing there.

  “May I come in?”

  Clem’s tongue was tied, but her father stood from his chair and approached Edward. “Please do, Prince… I mean, Edward. I was just about to go down to the cafeteria for some lunch and a coffee refill.” He turned to her. “Would you like anything, apricot?”

  She cringed at the use of his pet name for her in front of Edward. “No thanks, Dad.”