King of Hearts

King of Hearts

Chapter 10

The Match

When Buffy woke up the next morning, she was only mildly surprised to find Spike gone. She knew it was his big day: the day
of his first polo match, a charity match in Cirencester.

She could not wait to see how he and his team would fare, obviously praying to heaven and everybody that would listen, that
they fared well.

*

Spike enjoyed a moment away from the crowd at the polo field. He eyed Darla suspiciously. With the unfamiliar surroundings
and all the background noise outside of the stables, the pony was becoming very nervous. Her nostrils flared, her dark brown
eyes rolled, and her body was moving with heavy breaths. As much as Darla had irritated him in the past, Spike pitied her
now.

"Falling to pieces, huh?" he said softly. "Welcome to my world, luv. Just…Don't let me down today, alright?"

"Now, whom do we have here? The horse whisperer, Your Majesty?" he heard a sneering voice from behind him.

Spike turned around to see Sir Riley standing there in his polo clothes. He decided to disregard such remark, considering the
person whence it came. There were other more important things on his mind at the moment.

"I have to get Darla ready for the match," Sir Riley explained. "Besides, Sir Rupert wants a word with you."

Spike nodded. "Of course". He patted Darla's neck. "See you in a bit."

Sir Rupert was expecting him near the field. Local gentry were filing into the field and taking seats on the ranks around it. Sir
Rupert gazed pointedly at his watch. "You're late again, Your Majesty," he said sourly.

"Good morning to you as well, Sir Rupert," Spike replied levelly. He lowered his voice and glanced around quickly to make
sure no one was within earshot. "Where's Dru?"

"I had her taken home by one of the chauffeurs last night. I also took the liberty to arrange an appointment for her with a
discreet doctor the Royal family has had close ties with in the past. Do not fret; she is being taken care of." Sir Rupert sounded
casual, he gave no sign that it was bothering him a lot that the young king was involved in such a scandal, and even more so,
that Spike seemed to blindly trust every single word that woman uttered. Had it been any other member of British royalty, Sir
Rupert would immediately have suggested DNA testing to prove fatherhood, but since it was the only way to keep Spike away
from his daughter, he thought it wiser not to point that out. King William was old enough to know that not everyone was sincere
and honest, and if he chose to be irrational when it came to his first love Drusilla, Sir Rupert would not be the one to question
his monarch's judgment. Buffy would be better off without yet another royal scandal.

Spike looked relieved. "Thanks."

"I have already spotted Lady Winifred," Sir Rupert informed him, "Would you to her and have some small talk before the
match? It's good if the press see you two together."

"Of course." It took Spike a lot of self-control to push the thought of Buffy aside.

*

Lady Winifred was nervous. She was not used to so many people. Having spent most of her life at a boarding school for girls,
she was still fairly insecure when it came to socializing with the nobility. She turned her pink parasol in her hands nervously.

"Pretty as a picture".

She whirled around in her chair and beamed at the handsome man approaching her and blushed deeply. "Wesley," she sighed in
a low voice and cast her eyes down. Then she remembered they were in public and glanced around anxiously. "You shouldn't
have come here, if father sees you..."

"Don't worry, I'm here on business," he calmed her. "Security measures for His Majesty's first official polo match. Your father
knows I'm here."

"Yes, but still, we shouldn't be seen together." A shadow fell over her face. "Not now, not ever."

Wesley shook his head. "I'm going crazy not seeing you."

"I know," she said slowly. "But there's no way we can be together. We have to start seeing other people and forget what
happened. I've already told you."

"And I don't accept that," he snapped, "Fred, please, I've tried to go on without you, but I can't. We'll find a way, I promise."

She looked at him with sad and longing eyes. "I'm so sorry, Wesley. Some things just aren't meant to be."

"But we are meant to be," Wesley said, a little louder than necessary. People around them were already looking to see what
was going on.

Fred stared at him desperately.

"We are meant to be... winning today," Wesley added in a loud voice. "I firmly believe His Majesty's team will win!"

"Glad to hear that, Agent Pryce," Spike said. He and Sir Rupert had reached the couple.

Lady Winifred turned around and blushed even more furiously. "Your Majesty," she whispered and curtseyed with a nervous
nod of her head, not daring to look at him.

"Your Majesty." Wesley nodded and indicated a bow, his expression betraying that he hated to be interrupted this way.

"You remember Lady Winifred, Your Majesty," Sir Rupert said formally.

Lady Winifred still did not dare to rise. A host of photographers had gathered around them in the fraction of a second, all eyes
were on her, cameras flashing all around them.

"Of course," Spike said and extended his hand to her. Glancing at him shyly, Lady Winifred rose. "Pleased to meet you again,
Lady Winifred," he told her. "The match is about to begin, would you care to sit in the top box with your father? You will have
a good view of the field from up there."

"Oh... yes... that'd be great,... Your Majesty, thank you." Lady Winifred stumbled.

Spike smiled at her, hating himself for his false cheerfulness. "Allow me to show you to your seat, then." He offered her his arm
as hundreds of flashes lit up around them once again. Lady Winifred hated being the centre of attention. They only were able to
get rid of the press following them once they reached the top box.

"Your Majesty... could I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"How can you live with that?" She gestured at the cameras around the field.

He shrugged. "No idea. Takes some getting used to, I guess. Lady Winifred..."

"Fred. Please. Call me Fred," she said, her cheeks reddened again.

"Fred. I have a première at the London Opera House next Saturday, 'The Parchese' or something."

"'The Mikado'," Fred corrected him, giggling. "And it's got nothing to do with the game!"

"See?" he said, "I'm useless at these things! I need someone to cover up my mistakes. Otherwise I'll be at the top box, by
myself, not understanding a word that’s being said."

"The opera is in English," Fred added.

"Oh, emm…that works out nicely then," said Spike somewhat embarrassed. "Anyway, I'd prefer to have some company.
Would you like to save me from two hours of boredom?"

Fred smiled faintly. "I'd love to. I love the opera."

Spike smiled back. "Okay, so that's settled. See you after the match, Lady... Fred." He walked from the top box, almost
running. The girl was sweet, clever, very pretty, and... and she was no more interested in him than he was in her. He had seen
the looks passing between her and Agent Pryce. It was obvious that the secret agent was the one who had got Fred into the
trouble she was in right now, and apparently she had decided it was best for them if they did not see each other any more.
Spike would have loved to have her as a good friend. Dating her just felt wrong. He sighed and headed to the polo field. Not
really looking where he was going, he suddenly found himself face to face with...

"There you are!" Buffy smiled brightly. She was wearing a white summer dress with blue flowers and looked stunningly
beautiful. "Just wanted to wish you luck!"

He stared at her. "Buffy."

She did not seem to notice his agitation. "You were gone so early this morning, and I didn't wanna miss your big day, so here I
am!" She nodded emphatically. "So... good luck." She made to kiss him, but Spike backed away.

Buffy frowned. "What's wrong?"

"Too many people," Spike managed to say, "Someone could see us..."

She nodded. "Right. I'll see you after the match, then."

"Yeah... I mean, no! No, sorry, have to socialize with these poofs afterwards, very boring, but necessary, you know…royal
duty and all." Just looking at her and lying in her face was torture. He closed his eyes for a moment and sighed. Then he looked
at her again. "Gotta go."

Buffy watched him leave at a rapid pace, never once looking back at her. She was very confused.

*

The team lined up at midfield, facing the umpire. Adrenaline was rushing through Spike's veins. His eyes searched the crowd
and caught sight of Buffy, standing by the field, waving a small paper flag with the Royal Coat of Arms. He felt helpless and
angry. The best time to take his aggressions into a match of good old-fashioned polo. Just then the bell rung. The umpire threw
the ball between them. The match had begun.

Spike found he felt much more comfortable playing polo when he was not alone in the field with Sir Riley. He managed to get
rid of several opponents to allow his team mates a clear shot. Spike even used a nearside neck shot to attempt a shot at the
goal; unfortunately he narrowly missed and failed to score. The audience "Awww!"ed disappointedly. The other team took the
opportunity to counter-strike, and managed a goal immediately afterwards.

Spike shook his head in frustration. They were not going to lose this charity match. He saw the ball in front of him and urged
Darla on.

"Turn it!" Sir Riley shouted at him, meaning that he had got time, because there were not opposing players nearby to turn the
ball in the direction of his goal rather than hitting it backwards. Spike was in an ideal position to strike the ball. Suddenly,
another player crossed the imaginary line of the ball in front of him to hit it on the near side. Spike understood that a foul had
occurred, but the umpire had not seen it, the chukka was still going on. Darla was racing at top speed, the spectators and the
other players were merely blurs of colour. Then it happened very fast. He was unwilling to let go now and chased after the ball,
made for another strike at full speed, struck the ball... and felt, almost in slow motion, how he was lifted from the pony's back,
belatedly realizing how he could no longer hold on to it, nor prevent his heavy fall to the ground. His world went dark.

*

"I need to see him!" Buffy insisted.

Sir Rupert held her firmly as she struggled against him. "I told you he's all right, considering the circumstances."

"What circumstances?" Buffy demanded.

"His doctor said it was a miracle he only got minor bruises, and an injured arm. Falling from a pony at that speed is very
dangerous. He is in a shock now, but no permanent damage was done."

"He fell on his head!" Buffy reminded him.

Sir Rupert shrugged. "Well, he does have a slight concussion, but I assume you'd need brains to suffer brain damage."

Buffy glared at her father. "Are you finished? Can I see him now?"

"I regret to tell you this, Buffy, but I cannot allow you into the ward. The doctor said he needs to rest and must not be
disturbed. Maybe you can come back tomorrow."

"Will you tell him I was here?"

Sir Rupert nodded. "Of course I will, Buffy."

With another disappointed look, Buffy walked back to the parking lot.

*

The door to Spike's room in the ward opened, and Fred peered in. She was still wearing the pink silk dress and carrying her
parasol. "Just wanted to see how you were."

"Fred," Spike said with a weak smile. "Come on in. It's nice to see a friendly face round here." He sighed. "Everyone's so
damned concerned, talking in hushed voices like I was terminally ill. Bloody hell, I fell off a pony, not the bloody Sears Tower!"

Fred smiled. "I take it you're much better already."

"Take a seat, luv," he said, "Tell me how the match ended."

Fred grabbed a chair and sat down demurely by the bed. She smiled apologetically.

He groaned. "We lost, didn't we?"

"Sorry."

He shook his head in disbelief, only to feel a searing pain in his forehead. "That wasn't the best of ideas..."

Fred reached into her tiny handbag and put a small box on the bedside table. "Chocolate cookies," she explained in a low
voice, "I smuggled them in here for you. I hear the food is very... interesting in this hospital."

"Thanks." He stared at the ceiling. "Pretty stupid, getting thrown off by a pony and hurting my head first time I get the chance to
do that in front of a camera. Bet it was all over television."

"Breaking news," Fred confirmed his worst fears.

"You must think I'm a dork."

Fred shook her head. "No, I don't. That was just bad luck."

He sighed. "Fred, will you do me a favour? Could you go back to the polo field for me and check if the poor pony is okay?
Her name's Darla. She is to be taken back to London tomorrow, but I just want to make sure she didn't get hurt. Or they get
ideas because she threw me off... She's not dangerous or anything, it was my entire fault, see, I shouldn't have...!"

Fred nodded. "Of course. I'll look after her." She rose from her seat. "Try and get some sleep. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Thanks."

"Good night, Your Majesty."

"Can we agree on Spike?" he asked desperately.

Fred frowned. "Spike? I'm supposed to call you Spike?!"

"If you don't mind..."

Fred smiled. "Not at all. I kind of like it."

As soon as she left, Sir Rupert entered the room.

Spike glared at him. "I seem to have more people wanting to see me when I'm in the hospital than when I'm at the office!"

Sir Rupert did not smile. He pointed after Lady Winifred. "That went quite satisfactory, didn't it?"

"I guess."

Sir Rupert walked around the bed and spotted the chocolate cookies on the bedside table. "I'd better take those," he said with
an amused smirk.

Spike sighed. "Can't prevent you!"

"I assure you, this is a private hospital, and the cuisine is excellent." He cleared his voice. "I have talked to Lady Winifred's
father. Lord Burkle is very pleased at the prospect of a connection between you and his daughter."

"Unlike you," Spike remarked gloomily.

Sir Rupert pretended not to have noticed. "Your doctors assure me you will be well enough on Saturday to attend the première
- with Lady Winifred. You will sit and watch the performance with her at the top box, and you will hold her hand while you are
leaving the Opera House. For the next two weeks, you will attend several charity events and high society parties together. The
press will see, interview and photograph you both, together, thus, even if it is a relatively short time, it will leave no room to
doubt that you are a happy couple. The official version will be that you and Lady Winifred first met a year ago at a language
school in Bejing you both attended and have been in touch ever since. This way, people will not start calculating when you
marry her and she has your child."

"Best laid plans," Spike said sourly.

"I'll see you in the morning."

"Sir Rupert!"

"Yes?"

"What about Buffy? Was she... here to see me?"

Sir Rupert held his gaze. "No, I'm afraid she wasn't."

Spike sank back into the bed. "Can you tell her I asked to see her?"

Sir Rupert nodded. "Of course, Your Majesty."

*

Fred was wearing blue jeans and a white tee when she asked permission to visit the stables near the polo field. At first she was
not allowed in, but when she revealed she was Lord Burkle's daughter, permission was granted. It was slowly getting dark.
Most people had already left.

Sir Riley was still in the stable, clearing up, stalling the players' saddles away.

"So Darla wasn't injured?" she asked as she stroked the pony's mane.

"No," Sir Riley confirmed, "She's fine. We're taking her back to London tomorrow. It's not her fault that the jerk couldn't deal
with the speed. As my mum always says, if you can't stand the heat, get out of the kitchen!"

Fred eyed him disapprovingly. "Yeah. Right."

Sir Riley fetched another saddle. "This one... you think there's any chance I can sneak it out of here? It would gain me a fortune
at E-bay. 'His Majesty's first saddle'! 10 000 quid, you'd reckon?"

Fred approached curiously. "Was this the saddle King William used during the polo match?"

"Yes, Ma'am!"

"The saddle he was using when he fell off the pony?"

"The one and only!"

"Can I have a look?" Fred took the heavy saddle from Sir Riley and examined it curiously. "The strap..." She stared at it.

"Yeah, I know. Low quality equipment, it seems, tore right through."

Fred shook her head in determination. "No. The strap didn't tear. It was cut."

TBC...