I yawned. I simply couldn’t help myself. The ambassador had been talking non-stop for over forty minutes, and the room was so very warm. Jet-lag was also getting the best of me despite the fact it had only been a short flight. I sipped on a glass of water in the hopes of keeping myself awake. I longed to get back to the plush suite I would be calling home for the next week. If I could be anywhere but here right now, I would love to be. But, in my family, duty is prized above all else, and apparently this was my time to step up.

And unfortunately for me, I was called upon at the last minute to step into my brother William’s shoes. Don’t get me wrong, I did not envy my bigger brother, or his position of bring first in line for the throne, but right then I was seriously envious of the terrible case of “flu” that stopped him from undertaking this diplomatic tour of Luxembourg.

But while William was in fact making my father proud—with the help of his private secretary of course—I wasn’t entirely convinced he was totally out for the count… man-flu more like it, or perhaps he’d managed to convince Sophie to wear a nurse’s uniform and was prolonging his bed rest. Wouldn’t have surprised me what with the rumours flying around about those two. The palace had practically been abuzz with talk of William’s scandalous relationship.

The ambassador was still droning on and I stifled another yawn. It wasn’t that the man or the country was dull, far from it. I had holidayed there a number of times with friends. In fact, I rather liked it as an unexpected retreat from all the hustle and bustle of life back home in the capital, and the horror of being a military surgeon since I qualified four years ago. No, it was more that on this occasion I would see none of it, and way too much of these lavish salons, being forced to listen politely—and to feign suitable interest of course—to inordinate amounts of dull speeches honouring my grandmother, Princess Augusta, Duchess of Cambridge.

St. Bartholomew's Hospital wasn’t pleased about it either, and they had every right to be unhappy with me. I’d spent much of my interview convincing them that I would be reliable and that my position in the Royal Family would have little to no impact on my duties as surgical registrar. But then within one week of starting, I was forced to let them down. I couldn’t help but wonder if I would even have a job to go back to—and even if I did, there was no way they were going to be happy about their new registrar taking time out willy-nilly—even if the person ordering it was the King and Queen of England.

I wasn’t cut out for the politics or grandstanding. I was a medic, a surgeon, and I loved my work more than almost anything on earth—yet trying to convince my mother and father, as well as the rest of the older generation in the family, was like banging my head against a brick wall. And had been ever since I’d announced at the tender age of fourteen that I wanted to be a doctor. Sitting here, being polite and making little people feel big was not my forte at all.

Bored, I tapped my long fingers across my thigh, imagining I was operating on someone. I applied the gentle pressure to the scalpel I was wielding in my imagination, picturing the diseased tissue that I was skilfully removing, and the recovery of my patient as they returned to their normal lives once more. What wasn’t to love, right? How many people truly got the chance to change peoples’ lives in such a drastic way? But no, instead my family wanted me to waste time here, listening to these puffed up fools.

Perhaps it would’ve been better if I’d fought harder to stay in the military just a little bit longer. Though in the end it was my own choice to leave, regardless of the pressure coming from above. But if I’d stayed at least then I would’ve had some semblance of control over my life… I could’ve even tried to request to be stationed back in the refugee camps at Chad. I would’ve been able to see Penny again, I thought with desperate longing.

Don’t think about her, you’re just going to make it harder for yourself.

“Ahem, Prince Robert,” my father’s valet nudged me in the ribs as imperceptibly as he could and Penny's beautiful face dissolved out of my mind.

Gavin gave another subtle cough and I was thrown back into reality. Father had lent him to me as I had no personal servants—didn’t need or want one in my everyday life—but for these occasions they were a necessary evil. At least Gavin and I knew one another well, so it wasn’t awkward. I flicked him a thankful look as I glanced up to see that the Ambassador had moved to shake my hand and offer me the gift that I was there to receive on Grandmother’s behalf.

“This is exquisite,” I lied as I took the ugly green glass—or was it crystal?—vase that was supposedly worth as much as the average family home in London. I couldn’t see the appeal myself and would be happy if it got broken in transit rather than seeing it up in any of the Royal residences, but I knew a place would be found for it somewhere. Even if that was in one of the many storage rooms where it would be protected, boxed up and labelled with extreme accuracy; detailing who it had been present by and when.

I gratefully said my goodbyes to the assembled group of highly-connected politicians and businessmen and women, saving a quiet and private moment for the Ambassador as I had been directed by the team that had been sent out to shepherd me through my duties.

Once free, and in relative privacy, I sank into the back of the black limousine and sighed heavily. At last the remainder of the day would be my own. I was looking forward to a good sleep. Since leaving the army, I’d barely had a chance to stop, let alone rest.

Endless visits to family and friends, and then this little formal excursion. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d slept a full eight hours, and I so desperately needed it. How Frederick had been able to manage it—let alone William—I had no clue. But I was amazed that the hardest thing had not been the switch from being an unknown, one of the squad, the same as any other, to being back in the public eye. No, the toughest thing I faced every day was that I didn’t get to see Doctor Penny Hawkins’s lovely face, hear her perfect laugh, touch her soft skin, or kiss her sensually full lips.

I clearly was out of practice when it came to the life I would now be expected to live until the day I died. The spotlight had caught me a few too many times already, and the paparazzi had taken some crazy pictures of me.

And because I had been seen with Eugenie, an old friend, more than once, the rumour mill had started up—yet again—and everyone was sure that another Royal Wedding must be in the offing.

Neither of us could be bothered to refute the stories; the papers would twist whatever we said anyway. She didn’t mind because it got her plenty of column inches as she started up her new very exclusive interior design decorating business, and as she was the sister of a good friend, Albert, whom I’d attended prep school with, I was more than happy to help her out.

To be fair it suited me too; I no longer had the press or my parents trying to pair me off with women I had no intention whatsoever of marrying. Especially since my thoughts still hadn’t been able to banish the spectre of the enigmatic Dr. Hawkins. There was no one else like her and I doubted very much that there would be anyone in my future who could make me feel even a fraction of what I felt when I’d been with her.

She haunted my nights, filled my daydreams—yet I still hadn’t managed to come up with a way to deal with the minor problem that she had no clue who I really was. Nor had I come up with a way that I could introduce her to my family, and have them take my feelings for her seriously. My worst nightmares were filled with them laughing in both our faces as we stood hand in hand, begging them to understand how we were so right for each other.

All the formality and publicity, I’d been subject to since I returned home, made me long even more for the easy camaraderie I had enjoyed in the military, the unexpected friendships I’d made in Chad. Life had been somehow easier, lighter, freer, despite all the regulations, orders and limitations to what we could possibly achieve given the circumstances. And I wished I could go back to those days, could return to the place I knew I did the most good. It sure as hell wasn’t here, after all.

My phone was flashing on the bedside table when we got back to the hotel. I picked it up and swiped through the messages as my entourage gave me some privacy for a change. I dialled my message service, quickly seeing it was from St. Barts.

“Hello, Robert, sorry to disturb you,” came the warm tones of Professor Calder. As one of the world’s leading heart surgeons, I knew I was lucky to be a part of his crew. I prayed he wasn’t calling to tell me that I had already lost my place. “I know you are busy. But I thought you might like to know about this as soon as possible. We are down a consultant. I’d be happy to put your name forward should you wish—but it would mean that situations like this one,” he coughed clearly uncomfortable about having to broach the dicey protocol issue, “simply cannot happen again.”

I felt for him and was touched at his immediate thought of me and my career. I wished that I had the same approach to the decisions that I made myself. Even going to medical school had been a huge battle, and though being allowed to enter the military had for the most part been praised there had been endless wranglings over whether it would be safe for me to be a medic in war zones.

It had been perceived that my presence might act as a magnet for attacks, but a level of anonymity had been possible so the issue had been thankfully brushed aside. I wouldn’t have traded my time there for anything, and I wished I could return tomorrow—or at least go back to Chad where my skills were in such desperate need.

I knew the Professor wouldn’t expect a return call, and that he would leave me to make up my own mind about what I should do, but I simply couldn’t imagine having the conversation that would be needed with my father. He would never understand that I saw my vocation as a greater calling of duty than I ever would being an heir to the throne. He had been adamant I shouldn’t continue my career once I returned from the army. It had only been agreed very grudgingly, and with the proviso that I would still do whatever was needed of me by the family. Including supporting William in his own new role. I’d known it would be difficult juggling both my lives, but I at least had to try.

Sadly, it looked like I was going to have to choose again, and far sooner than I had ever expected to have to. I sank down onto the vast emperor-sized bed, and despite the fears and worries plaguing my mind, I brushed them aside thinking of only one person, wishing she was there with me to discuss my troubles with. It wasn’t long that I was fast asleep, dreaming of her again.