Даниэла Стил - Royal

By coincidence, they left the club at the same time, and the paparazzi were waiting for Victoria and her movie star. They got photographs of Annie and Anthony too, and recognized both of them. It was a bonus for the paparazzi, and the tabloids were full of both couples the next day, with the headline over Annie and Anthony’s photograph, ROYAL WEDDING BELLS? GOOD JOB, ANTHONY!

The queen called Annie that morning from Buckingham Palace and discreetly asked if the rumor was true. Were she and Anthony planning to get married?

“We’re seeing each other,” Annie admitted with nothing to hide, “but we have no plans to marry at the moment. It still seems too soon, to both of us.” It was the truth.

“I have no objection, as long as he’s sown the last of his wild oats. He was a bit of a playboy for a few years, I believe. But he’s the right age to settle down, if he has.” He had just turned thirty-one, and she was twenty-three now. “He’s a lovely young man. I’ve known his family all my life. Just don’t wait too long, if that’s what you want to do. You don’t want to become fodder for the tabloids, and have the paparazzi following you around all the time. Once you’re married, they’ll lose interest.” Annie didn’t want to marry just to get rid of the paparazzi, but the queen had made herself clear. She had conservative values and she preferred marriage to dating. “You’re old enough now, dear.” But Annie didn’t feel old enough at twenty-three, and she was still getting used to the royal life. It was her first taste of what Anthony disliked so much, pressure from the Crown.

She reported the conversation to Anthony when he called her, and he was annoyed.

“That was my point earlier. I don’t want the House of Windsor telling us what to do. We should get married when we want to. We’re just getting started. What’s the hurry?”

“I’d rather wait awhile too. Twenty-three seems so young to get married. I kind of thought twenty-five or -six,” Annie said thoughtfully.

“Thirty-one seems young to me too. I used to think thirty-five was the right age for a man. We’ll know when it’s right. But it should be up to us. She’s going to put the heat on now. And can you imagine what she must have said to Victoria today? She must be having a fit over that.” She was, and had told her sister to break it off immediately before she disgraced herself again. Victoria was used to it by now. She’d been battling with her family over who she dated for twenty years, and seemed to take pleasure in shocking them, the public, and the press. Annie and Anthony didn’t want to be part of that.

Lord Hatton called Anthony for confirmation too, and said he was delighted about Annie. He couldn’t have made a better choice, and when were they getting married. He hoped it would be soon. Like the queen, he thought they should get out of the public eye and the press quickly, and marriage was the fastest way to do that. It seemed like the wrong reason to marry, to both of them.

Jonathan called to tell her he was thrilled, he liked Anthony immensely, and to do whatever she wanted. But the palace and even Anthony’s father were pushing for a fast marriage, which felt rushed to them. They refused to be pushed, much to the queen’s chagrin, but she had bigger problems with her sister.

—

Annie went to Saint Tropez with Anthony that summer for her holiday, and they were beleaguered by the paparazzi and followed everywhere and had to take refuge on a friend’s yacht, and sailed for Sardinia, where it happened all over again. It was endless. Whenever they went out, in London or any other city, even if they went to the grocery store, they wound up all over the tabloids, kissing, not kissing, holding hands, having an argument in the park once. Anthony was seriously annoyed about it.

“I don’t want them rushing us into marriage. And even if we get married, they’ll follow us around now. If we have a baby, have kids, get pregnant, go skiing. Whatever we do, they’re going to pursue us. I hate this.” He looked furious, and she didn’t like it either. “Do you want to get married now?” he asked her bluntly. “I’ll do whatever you want.” But it took the fun out of it, getting married because they were being pressured into it, by the queen or the tabloids.

“Not really,” she said honestly. “Why don’t we just call a moratorium on it, and make the decision in two years when I turn twenty-five. I’ll be ready then. You’ll be thirty-three. And screw what the tabloids think, or anyone else.”

“Sounds perfect to me,” he agreed. “Two years, and then we’ll jump in. Done.” He kissed her to seal the deal. It seemed like an unromantic decision, but the right one for them.

The press continued to follow them around after that. But not as avidly. They got bored with it without an engagement or a wedding date. And the queen continued to drop hints whenever she saw them, but she was much more upset about her sister, who seemed to enjoy creating scandals. She always had.

Annie and Anthony were happy as they were. She stayed with him when she was in London, and he stayed in her room at the stables now, since everyone knew about them anyway. His father lent him his house frequently. So everything calmed down, and their relationship continued. In their minds, they figured they’d get married, or at least engaged, in two years when Annie turned twenty-five. It seemed the right age to both of them. And to satisfy her longing to race, Anthony’s father convinced her to enter the Newmarket Town Plate that fall. It was the only women’s race under jockey club rules. She placed second and was jubilant. But it only made her hunger to race against men more acute. She entered again the following year and placed first. Shortly before her twenty-fifth birthday, before they could revisit their marriage plans, Annie got a call from a famous trainer in Lexington, Kentucky. He invited her to race for the stable he worked for, in the Blue Grass Stakes Thoroughbred race at Keeneland racecourse in Lexington. She would be competing against male jockeys for a million-dollar purse. It was a pari-mutuel race, the opportunity she’d longed for all her life. They had heard of her, and seen her race at the Newmarket Town Plate. She would be the first female jockey registered for the race in Kentucky, and her heart was pounding when she hung up after the call. She was so excited she could taste it. She had waited for this moment for years, and she knew she was ready. She had accepted on the phone, and now she had to tell Anthony. She hoped he’d be reasonable about it. She knew Lord Hatton would be excited for her, and Jonathan would too.

She waited until Anthony came up for the weekend, and didn’t say anything to him about it before that. They were paying her a fortune to do it. But she wasn’t doing it for the money, although that was nice too. She was doing it because it was her dream, and she knew she had to do it. And she expected Anthony to know that too.

There was no avoiding the subject. He could tell that she was hiding something, and she didn’t want to conceal it from him. She told him about the call an hour after he got there.

“You turned them down, I hope?” he said, looking tense, his eyes never leaving hers.

“I couldn’t. I’ve waited all my life for this, and you know it. I have to do it.”

“And risk your life as a jockey? Competing against men?” He looked horrified.

“I’m not going to die, Anthony. This is my dream,” she said quietly.

“I thought we were your dream, you and I. If I ask you not to do it, will you turn it down?” He was turning it into a proving ground, and a test, which wasn’t fair. She didn’t answer for a moment, and then shook her head. It was a crucial moment in their relationship, and she knew it. But she couldn’t give up the race for him.