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Buffy made some tea and sandwiches for her father, though she had to admit she herself wasn't hungry any more. Too many thoughts were running through her head.
"Thank you, dear," her father said gratefully as she brought him his lunch. "This day was a nightmare!"
Buffy sat down beside him. "Why?" she asked casually.
"Can you keep a secret?" her father asked.
Buffy nodded curiously. That moment, the telephone rang.
"Let the machine get it," Buffy suggested.
A female voice was heard through the answering machine's speaker. "Hi, this is Joyce."
Buffy's father was momentarily startled as he heard her voice unprepared. He jumped to get the phone. "I'm here, Joyce."
Buffy could not hear the other side of the line any more. She could tell by the sound of her father's voice that her mother was upset. She sighed. It was all her grandma's fault! Just because she did not want her son to marry an American without any titles, her parents had broken up before she was born, and her mother was now in her second unhappy marriage. Things could be worse. Her half-sister Dawn never saw her father at all, Hank Summers had no more interest in his own child than in his stepdaughter Buffy. And since she wasn't old enough to move out, she had to live under the same roof as that moron Ted.
"Yes, I'll tell her." Buffy's father cleared his voice. "Yes, it's been nice talking to you too, Joyce." He hung up. "That was your mother. She says hi. And she tells you not to forget to send off your university registration for next year. The deadline's in two weeks' time, and you have to consider the mail takes longer from England than from home."
"I won't forget." Buffy nodded. "How's Mom?"
He sighed. "She appears to have some trouble with... TED," he pronounced the name like he was talking about some especially nasty insect.
Buffy looked at him with a mixture of hope and despair. "Dad, this is ridiculous! I know you still care about mom, and she cares about you! Why else would she call you whenever she's got a problem with her relationships? Dad, why don't you tell her to send Ted to hell and come back to you?"
Her father ran a hand over her hair. "Wish it were that simple, Buffy. There are so many reasons we never married..."
"Yeah, but grandma isn't around any more," Buffy objected.
"Why would your mother want a stiff British Sir now?" he asked skeptically.
Buffy sighed. "'Cos you're better than any Hank or Ted in the whole world!"
Sir Rupert smiled weakly. He did not feel like finishing his sandwiches any more, but he kept eating because he did not want to offend Buffy.
"Now, you wanted to hear about His Royal Highness," Sir Rupert changed the subject. "Let me assure you, I am not easily to be shocked, but this king truly is a catastrophe. His manners are those of a third grade rock singer, he speaks like an ordinary dock worker, and he draws his general knowledge from 'Who wants to be a millionaire?'!"
"But what about all the public schools he attended, Eton, and Oxford University?" Buffy asked, flabbergasted.
Sir Rupert snorted. He was not allowed to talk about the King's background, but he had no intention to pretend the new sovereign was a genius. "If it hadn't been for me, he would have ruined his first public appearance completely. This time, I could brief him and write his speech for him, but he has no idea about our traditions and ceremonies. The only thing he can hope for is to marry a decent noblewoman from a good family as soon as possible, so she can cover his mistakes for him."
Buffy's eyes widened. "He is to marry?"
Sir Rupert nodded. No need to mention he had not talked about the king of that yet. "Of course. The King needs a consort, especially because of the public relations. We need a fairytale wedding in this country, and a Queen who represents England to the world, as the last one did. With this king, the end of British monarchy is at hand. I have already taken the liberty to make a list of eligible noblewomen. His Majesty will host a ball soon and make a reasonable choice."
Buffy fumed. Spike was making out with her in the swimming pool while he was already planning his marriage to another woman? She tried to concentrate on the conversation with her father, yet her mind was elsewhere. How could he do this to her?

*

Buffy was still furious when she was getting ready for her date. She applied her makeup and mascara with rage, almost tore her hair out as she curled it and picked her shoes considering which would hurt most if she hurled them at Spike's head. She tried several of her dresses just to discard them again. She growled. "I'm gonna teach you a lesson you'll never forget!"

*

Spike was only half way through his mail when Sir Rupert entered his study without bothering to knock.
"Ah, Sir Rupert!" he welcomed him with a smile, "That went well this morning, didn't it?"
Sir Rupert tried not to think of the eyebrow piercing he had to tell Spike to remove before they drove off to St James's Palace and barred the fact that Spike had greeted the Prime Minister with a hearty 'How're doin', mate?" from his thoughts. "It was satisfactory," he agreed diplomatically. With another disapproving look, Sir Giles noticed that Spike had applied the seal to his mail upside down. "Sir Riley told me you missed your polo lesson," he remarked sourly.
"I couldn't possibly leave my mail just to enjoy another polo lesson, that would be irresponsible" Spike replied innocently.
"I could take care of the remaining letters," Sir Rupert offered.
"God, no!" Spike hurried to say then added quickly, "I mean, I do take my duties seriously!"
"You do," Sir Rupert said, not attempting to hide the irony of his words. "Your Majesty's schedule for tomorrow," he said stiffly, handing him another bunch of documents.
Spike had a superficial look at the papers. He arched an eyebrow at Sir Rupert. "A reception?"
"The newly appointed ambassador of Tokelau is coming to London," Sir Rupert explained, "Your Majesty is expected to host a dinner and give the ambassador a formal audience. Members of the diplomatic corps will be present."
"And where the hell is Tokelau?"
"Your Majesty will find information on the ambassador and the country of Tokelau in these documents."
Spike sighed. "More schoolwork?"
Sir Rupert seemed unimpressed. "Good evening, Your Majesty," he said and made to leave.
"Rupert, I mean, SIR Rupert!" Spike called him back.
"Yes?"
Spike tried to sound as casually as possible when he asked: "Whom do we normally call if we want to send someone flowers?"
"It is unnecessary to send flowers to the ambassador."
"Not for the ambassador!" Spike snapped, "So what do I do? Can I just call a flower shop or is there a licensed Royal Flower Shop?"
"You won't send flowers," Sir Rupert replied patiently, as if explaining something very simple to a small child.
"Why not?" Spike asked.
"You're forgetting who you are," Sir Rupert snorted, "The King of England can't just send flowers to some woman as he pleases!"
"She's not just some woman," Spike protested.
"No," Sir Rupert said dryly, thinking about the raven-haired beauty on Spike's lap at the club and his hand moving under her skirts, "I reckon she is a decent noblewoman preserving her virginity for marriage."
"I don't want you to talk about her that way," Spike chided him, "You may speak a better English than myself and have attended better schools, you may be more experienced in ceremonies and traditions, but that doesn't give you the right to judge me and question every sodden step I make!"
For a moment, Sir Rupert's mask fell, and he looked as if Spike had hit him in the face. Then he regained his composure and bowed silently.
"I asked a question," Spike said more calmly. "Why not?"
"Because a king's consort must be chosen very carefully. The English King's consort is going to become Queen and rule at his side. If you send flowers to a woman who is not eligible to the throne, this will damage your reputation, and we will have a scandal on our hands. If your order flowers, too many people will know about it - your Secretary, the florist's assistant who takes the order, the florist who arranges the flowers, the person who writes the card, the banker who charges the flowers to your account, the delivery man. The gutter press pays an awful lot of money for information of this kind. That is a risk Your Majesty cannot take."
Spike looked sad, but he saw Sir Rupert had a point. "Can't I order them for myself?" he asked helplessly, "Without a card, and have them delivered to myself?"
Sir Rupert began to wipe his glasses. "Then the yellow press will rumor you might be gay," he said matter of-factly. "Believe me, Your Majesty, my only concern is for your happiness," he added, changing to a more friendly tone. "It would be better if you just forgot about that dark-haired and probably even Catholic Irishwoman."
Spike did not bother to tell Sir Rupert that he was not talking about Drusilla. If he told Sir Rupert about Buffy, he would probably get her fired, and his chances of ever seeing her again would be slim. He thanked him politely instead.
"At your service, Your Majesty," Sir Rupert said levelly and turned to leave. "Sir Riley is out at the polo field waiting for you. I suggest you do not make him wait."

*

Not having slept very well, Spike was just in the right mood to kick someone's ass when he met Sir Riley for his next polo lesson. He hated Sir Riley's wide grin, he hated the dumb pony, and most of all he hated himself for wasting precious time he could make much better use of preparing for his date with Buffy.
"The objective of the game is for a team to score the most goals by hitting the ball through their goal posts at the end of the ground," Sir Riley explained, beaming. "I will now show you the most important defensive maneuvers. Riding off is a basic defensive maneuver where the player urges his pony to shove an opponent's mount away from the ball, allowing the player or a team mate to get a clear shot. Also a player will ride off an opponent who is about to strike the ball. As a player attempts to make a shot to hit the ball, an opposing player may use his mallet to hook the mallet of the other player. A Player may hook fairly if is he is on the side where the stroke is being made or directly in front or behind the striking player. Is that clear?"
Spike nodded, having not even a basic idea what Sir Riley was talking about.
Sir Riley gestured at the pony. "Shall we start, Your Majesty?" Without another word, he swung himself on top of his own pony elegantly.
Spike cast his pony a hostile look. Darla neighed impatiently.
As Spike approached, she shied away.
Riley grinned. He rode his pony next to Darla. "May I take your mallet?" he offered.
Spike thrust his mallet in Sir Riley's hand angrily. If it hurt, Sir Riley did not show it.
Spike grabbed the saddle and tried to pull himself on top of the pony, but Darla turned her head furiously and backed away again, jumping several feet. Spike got his head out of the way of her hooves just in time. "That's it, I'm out of here!" Spike decided.
"Nah! Try again, once more with feeling!" Sir Riley suggested.
Spike cast him a mortifying look. This time, he would not end up in the mud. He sighed and stroked the pony's mane slowly. Then he made another futile attempt to climb her.
He startled when he heard steps approaching. Perfect, now the bad day was getting even worse! Someone else of his staff would see him making a complete fool of himself. Spike caught Sir Riley's gaze as he looked at the unexpected visitor. Sir Riley's eyes got a dreamy expression; he was stunned by the young woman's beauty.
Spike turned around. To his horror, Buffy was walking towards them. "B...Buffy!"
Buffy smiled. "Sir Riley," she addressed Spike provokingly; then she looked at Sir Riley on his pony. She cast her eyes down and curtseyed deeply before him. "Your Majesty, forgive me for interrupting Your Highness's polo lesson."
"Er... I'm not... he is..." Riley stuttered incoherently.
Spike shook his head vehemently and signaled Sir Riley to shut up before Buffy raised her eyes again. "His Majesty meant to say, I am the instructor, so I am the one to apologize to."
"Actually, I..." Sir Riley began, looking very confused.
Spike cut him off. "What can I do for you, Buffy?"
Buffy suppressed her anger. How could he embarrass his poor polo instructor like that? The guy looked nice. She decided to push it even further. "Sir Rupert sends me," she explained, thinking it wiser not to mention Sir Rupert was her father, "He asked me to tell you that an ambassador, who is coming to visit Buckingham Palace tomorrow, is a passionate polo player and would enjoy being shown around the stables. Could you arrange a visit, please?"
"Of c..." Sir Riley began.
Spike turned Buffy around by the shoulders so she was no longer facing the unfortunate polo instructor. "It will be my pleasure," he assured her.
"Good," Buffy said, then gently freed herself from Spike's grip and curtseyed before Sir Riley again. "Please, accept my apologies for interrupting the lesson, Your Royal Highness."
Riley opened his mouth to speak, but Spike did not allow that to happen. "Yes, of course, Buffy, but I was just showing His Majesty the defensive maneuvers, like... like..." He gestured helplessly. What the hell were those maneuvers called again?
"Riding off and hooking," Sir Riley added sourly.
"Correct, Your Majesty!" Spike said happily and gave Buffy a forced smile. "If you will now excuse us, Buffy, we are very busy."
Buffy smiled. "If His Royal Highness doesn't mind... I love horses. I'd just like to stand here and watch."
Spike's blood went cold. "I'm afraid that..."
Sir Riley smiled wickedly. "My pleasure, Miss...?"
"Summers, Your Majesty," Buffy beamed, flirting shamelessly.
"I don't think..." Spike began, but Sir Riley, side-glancing at Buffy, replied: "You don't want to question your King's judgment, do you, SIR RILEY?"
Spike sighed. "Of course not."
Sir Riley gestured at Darla. "Would you kindly mount your pony and show me the riding off again?"
Buffy clapped her hands. "Oh, I'd love to see that!" she cried enthusiastically.
Spike cleared his voice. "All right, then." As he laid a hand on Darla, the pony neighed with indignation, eyes wild.
Buffy felt almost sorry for Spike, seeing immediately he had no idea about riding or polo. She took a step toward Darla and gently stroked her mane, then took the reins. "You're a beauty," she said softly, "What's your name, baby?"
"Her name's Darla," Riley announced proudly.
Buffy looked deep into his eyes. "Thank you, Your Majesty, you are too kind."
Spike felt like he would vomit any second now.
"Okay, Darla," Buffy whispered to the pony, "Let's be nice to Sir Riley, right?" She held the reins and nodded at Spike.
He slowly touched the saddle and finally managed to mount the pony. He looked very relieved, his blue eyes gazing gratefully at her.
Buffy smiled at him. For a moment, she almost forgot her anger. Almost.
"Now, how about the maneuver?" Sir Riley suggested.
Spike shrugged helplessly. "Your Majesty has improved greatly," he finally said, "Why don't you show Miss Summers what you've learnt?"
"Gladly," Sir Riley said, nodding at Buffy, giving her another radiant smile, and rode off in the sunset.
Spike breathed deeply. A narrow shave!
"Gotta work now. See you tonight," he said softly and managed to follow Sir Riley at a lower pace without being thrown off again.
Sir Riley glared at him as he caught up with his instructor. "Your Majesty, don't you think you owe me an explanation?!"

*

Buffy was just taking a last look into the mirror when she heard Spike's faint knocking at her door. She took a deep breath and opened.
Spike's breath caught in his throat. Buffy was wearing a black tank top with matching leather skirt that emphasized her gorgeous legs, her hair fell over her shoulders in curls, and silver creoles were dangling from her earlobes.
"Hey," Buffy said with a charming smile. She walked up to him and kissed his cheek.
Thank god, she obviously had not watched TV. "Hi, Buffy," he replied, his voice slightly hoarse, "These are for you." He handed her a bunch of yellow tulips and pink roses that had been randomly and not very skillfully arranged, with raindrops still on the petals, no green arranged with them, and no wrapping.
Buffy looked at the flowers with amusement. *The English King couldn't afford any better flowers?* "Did you steal those from the palace gardens?" she asked with amusement.
Spike blushed deeply because that was precisely where he had got the flowers from.
Buffy filled an empty soda bottle with water and carefully arranged the flowers within. They looked a little better now. "There you are!" she said cheerfully, "Now, let's go!"
Spike's eyes widened. "W-where?" he stumbled.
Buffy enjoyed his panic. "I was thinking, dinner and dancing?" *Now, how are you gonna get out of this, William?*
Spike felt his body tensing up. "I didn't... I mean, why don't we stay here," his eyes were scanning the tiny room, "It's more... comfortable."
Buffy shook her head. "I wanted to go out!" she insisted.
Spike knew he could not sneak out of Buckingham Palace without being seen, and because of the television coverage, everyone in Britain – apparently except Buffy – knew his face now. He put on his best sexy smirk and ran his hands over her waist. "How about some night swimming?" he said silkily.
Buffy felt her body responding to him, but her mind forbade her to let him get away with his lies. She backed away and asked casually: "So, how did your appointment go?"
"Fine," he assured her.
"There's... nothing in particular you mean to tell me?" she asked desperately.
Spike gulped. This could be the moment of truth. If he now told her... no, he couldn't. He had pushed this too far already. "No," he said, trying to sound unconcerned. "How 'bout your day?" he asked quickly, congratulating himself on the smooth change of subject.
"I've been cleaning the banqueting hall for some reception the King's holding," Buffy told him. "Some ambassador's coming from a tiny island."
"Tokelau," Spike said without thinking.
"How come you know?" Buffy asked in fake astonishment.
"Er... the King told me during his polo lesson," Spike lied.
"Did he really?" Buffy asked innocently, "Tell me more. What else did he say?"
Spike shifted uncomfortably. "So, you were saying you were cleaning the banqueting hall..."
"Yeah," Buffy confirmed. "Then I was having lunch with my dad. We do that once a week. I hardly see him 'cos he's working for the king all the time." She studied his expression. She could see how uncomfortable he felt talking about the subject, how he avoided her eyes. *Nagging conscience, huh?* she thought to herself. She almost felt pity for him, but then focused on her plan. "I haven't told him about us yet, to be honest," she said obliviously. "I can never predict my dad's reactions." She looked at him with tenderness. "Sometimes I feel very lonely."
Spike looked at her, running his fingertips through her hair. "I know the feelin'."
When he kissed her, Buffy felt the current running through her body, but she also felt a desperate anger. How could he hold her, kiss her like that and keep lying to her all the time?
"What's he like?" Buffy asked slowly.
"Huh?" Spike tried hard to concentrate on what she said.
"The king," Buffy explained.
"Oh, him," Spike replied. "All right, I guess." He did not want to go there. He kissed her again to distract her. "Listen, Buffy, why don't we go to the pool now?" The pool was safe. He could lock it from the inside.
"No, I feel like going out!" Buffy insisted, trying to make him reveal his identity in some way. "There's a Hollywood classics special at the Odeon tonight!"
A relieved smile went over Spike's face. "I think I got a better idea. There is the private Royal Cinema at the Palace, and with the reception tomorrow, the king won't need it! We could break into the cinema. It won't cost us anything, and we can even pick our films!"
Buffy was angry at herself for not thinking of the Royal cinema. But how could she argue now? "What if we get caught?" she asked helplessly.
Spike frowned. "You didn't mind breaking into the pool even before we met." He smiled manipulatively. "But if you're afraid, that's ok, we can go to the Odeon then."
Buffy raised her chin. "I'm not afraid of anyone! Let's go!"

*

"Any preferences?" Spike asked. "There are loads of Hollywood classics in the archive."
Buffy smiled wickedly. "Have you seen 'Roman Holiday' with Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck?"
Spike shrugged. He had always been more into music than films, and the title did not ring a bell. "No, I haven't," he admitted.
"Oh, we have to see this one, then," Buffy said, her blood boiling inwardly. In 'Roman Holiday', Audrey Hepburn starred as the runaway princess of a mythological kingdom who spends 24 hours touring Rome and falling in love with an American journalist. Buffy leaned back in the comfortable armchairs in the Royal cinema as Spike tried to get the movie running. This could be very interesting.
"Ah, here we go." Spike had managed to operate the projector and took a seat next to Buffy. The film started. "Paramount News brings you a special coverage of Princess Ann's visit to London, the first stop on her much publicized goodwill tour of European capitals. She gets a royal welcome from the British as thousands cheer the gracious young member of one of Europe's oldest ruling families. After three days of continuous activity and a visit to Buckingham Palace..."
"Wrong coat of arms," Spike murmured.
Buffy looked at him questioningly.
"The coat of arms isn't the one for the monarch. The Sovereign has got a slightly different coat of arms from those of the other members of the Royal family. The details shown here are those of the Prince of Wales. They got that wrong." While he was still speaking, Spike realized how dangerous it could be to play the know-all here. Why couldn't he just shut the bloody hell up?
Buffy nodded slowly. "You do know a lot about the royal family," she said ambiguously.
Spike put an arm around her shoulders. "Sorry, didn't mean to show off, pet," he whispered, brushing his lips against her forehead. Buffy shuddered.

*

"Joe Bradley, American News Service."
"So happy, Mr. Bradley."
Audrey Hepburn as Princess Ann walked from the stage. Buffy wiped away a tear when Gregory Peck's character looked back at the empty stage where the princess last stood, then turned and walked away.
THE END.
By now, Spike was feeling extremely uncomfortable.
As the credits went by, he asked her cautiously: "Did you like it?"
Buffy gazed at him with a grave expression. "I think Princess Ann should have told Joe from the beginning."
Spike looked at her disbelievingly. "But he KNEW! He was the one who tried to take advantage of her, he just wants the Princess story, the exclusive!"
"That's not the point," Buffy insisted. "She had no idea he already knew about her identity, so it would have been her obligation to tell him the truth."
Spike slowly shook his head. "Maybe she just wanted to be a normal girl for a day. Do you think they would have had such a good time together if she had told him she was a princess?"
"Of course not!" Buffy burst out.
Spike tried to keep his voice from shaking. "So it would have been a very sad film."
"It IS a very sad movie!" Buffy disagreed passionately. "Their time together was an illusion, they couldn't possibly get together, could they?"
Spike cast his eyes down. "Not in the 1950s, no."
"And not even today!" Buffy told him, "And she wouldn't even have liked being a normal girl had she been trapped in a boring job without luxury and servants, having to worry if she'll be able to pay her rent every month! Her day in Rome was just a nice distraction before she goes back to her palace and her jewels!"
"She seemed to enjoy the simple life," Spike pointed out quietly, "Maybe she'd prefer that to her palace if she had a choice."
"You can't know that after 24 hours," Buffy disagreed. "She had no right to walk over other people's feelings like that!"
"She didn't mean to," Spike said defensively, "And Joe ain't no bloody angel! He could've said something as well, couldn't he? He knew who she was almost from the beginning!"
"Why do you think he didn't sell the story in the end? He was in love with her, and it was all hopeless!" Buffy talked herself more and more into rage, tears welling in her eyes. "He thought he might have found something, someone special, only to see that he's beneath her and she'll be forever out of reach! Now, how is that fair?"
"That's Hollywood," Spike replied helplessly.
"No, that's life!" Buffy jumped from the armchair, now openly crying, her face flushed.
Spike slowly rose. "Buffy..." he began, now very concerned.
"Did you at least enjoy it?" Buffy asked accusingly in a shrill and petulant voice.
Spike stood staring at her, petrified. "You're not talking about the bloody film any more."
"No," Buffy yelled, "I'm talking about my bloody life, Your Royal Highness!" She turned to walk away from him.
Spike grabbed her arm. "Buffy, please."
"Let go," Buffy warned him.
"We have to talk!"
Buffy quickly raised her other hand and slapped him, hard. "Hope you enjoyed shagging the servants, Your Majesty," she said icily, "'Cos you'll never get that close to me again."
He did not try to stop her as she stormed from the cinema.
Buffy ran down the corridor, blind with tears, never looking back.

TBC...





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