***
February
"My sister the artist," James said, for about the tenth time.
"I can't believe it." Indigo leaned back in the leather booth at the gay bar that had become the hottest nightspot in London, thanks to James and Ben's frequent patronage. "I got in without them even knowing it was me!"
"Your work stands on its own," said Eden, Indigo's artist friend; they were spending more time together, which James thought did Indigo good. "Still, I'd have loved to have seen the professors' faces when they learned just who 'P.A. Clarence' really is."
Everyone at the table laughed, including James. When he had first learned that his sister intended to try to get into the school of fine art at Oxford University, he had in fact been more worried than enthusiastic. What if she's rejected? he'd said to Ben. It could set her back, just when she's been doing so well.
But Ben had given him a look and said, What if she's accepted? Think about what that would mean to her. You can't take away the risk of pain without taking away her chance for what she wants most in the world.
So James had said nothing, stepped aside, and been absolutely thrilled to be proven wrong.
Not that Indigo hadn't had her own doubts, but still, encouraged by Eden and Zale, Indigo had finally gone through with the application, complete with submitting pieces of her own work for a portfolio that revealed the breadth of her art in all its allegorical, painful complexity.
His sister had finally shown something personal to the world, and the result was a triumph.
James looked around the bar with pleasure. Once, walking in here had felt like an act of defiance. Now it was simply part of his life. In the corner, Roberto and Nicholas were talking animatedly about something; nearby, Spencer was trying to draw out Zale and having about as much luck as anyone did, save for Indigo. Some months ago, Ben and Cassandra had figured out that they were the only two people in their circle of friends who wholeheartedly enjoyed dancing, which was why they were now out on the floor tearing it up to the Scissor Sisters. And Indigo sat next to him with Eden, accepting the congratulations of a professional artist.
The rubber band remained around Indigo's wrist, but it was almost invisible beneath her stack of bangle bracelets, just part of the armor with which she faced the world.
***
March
The Firm was fractious today.
Ben was learning to take the temperature of these gatherings. Often they were deadly dull, simply long recitations of what duties people were taking on, what trips they were going to make. Occasionally there were days when they quarreled a bit; he'd watched James and Richard bicker, albeit in a genteel way, over security staff salaries and that sort of thing.
But now, finally, he had a chance to watch them fight it out.
"It's absurd," Richard said. "Nicholas is a fully grown man. He has more than done his duty to the nation. Another tour of duty in the RAF is merely a stalling tactic for adulthood."
"How is serving in the armed forces not the act of an adult?" James protested.
"The point is that Nicholas is meant to take up greater responsibility within The Firm." The queen's voice rang out, instantly commanding more attention than anyone else in the room. She never actually spoke more loudly than the others, Ben noticed. She simply commanded more natural majesty than any other royal. "We have been counting on him for some time now. That means his petition to stay with the RAF must be declined."
James, as usual, stuck up for Nicholas. He was always arguing for the right things, Ben thought--but not always in the smartest ways. "This is Nicholas's life we're talking about. It's not as if he wants to be a beachcomber, for God's sake. He wants to serve the nation in a productive way. It sounds as if you want to exercise authority over him merely to prove you can."
"He's needed here," Richard insisted. "Particularly now that Amelia is backsliding."
"She isn't." James sat upright. "She had a bad couple of days last week. That's all. You can't look at how far she's come, how much she's done, and dismiss it that easily. She's allowed to have some bad days. We all are, aren't we?"
"Regardless, the therapists said she needs her support system around her. So Nicholas should be near," Richard said. "Or do you wish to pay attention to her doctors only when they agree with you?"
This was going to devolve fast, Ben thought. So he spoke up, "If I might, Your Majesty--" The queen nodded, so he went on. "Public response to Prince Nicholas's reenlistment would no doubt be positive. It would not be seen as a personal indulgence, but as a sign of responsibility and maturity."
Richard cut in, "We know perfectly well it's a personal indulgence."
"We don't know that at all," James shot back.
Ben ignored them both, paying attention only to the queen. "Prince Nicholas already undertakes some royal duties despite his military service. Perhaps it could be arranged for him to increase those duties to some degree while still in the RAF. A gradual transition, rather than an abrupt one--that should satisfy both the public and the prince. It would allow Prince Nicholas to spend more time with Princess Amelia as well."
"What does it matter whether the transition is gradual?" Richard said.
"Indigo's fine," James insisted again. "Everything that's going on--all the planning--it's a lot of pressure for anyone."
The queen held up her hand. "Enough, both of you. I live for the day when you stop fighting like wet cats and learn to present your arguments rationally and thoughtfully, as Ben has done. Thank goodness someone in this family is capable of having a discussion in a reasonable manner."
For once, Richard's and James's expressions were exactly the same: complete consternation. Ben managed to keep a straight face.
"We shall put Ben's idea forward to Nicholas," the queen said. "If he is amenable, then we can move forward on that basis."
"Very well," Richard said. James nodded. Neither could stop staring.
From the end of the table, where he'd been dozing, the king roused himself to say, "What's that about Nicholas?"
At the end of the meeting, as Ben and James walked out, James muttered, "How did you turn into the queen's favorite?"
"I'll never tell."
***
April
Ben was up to something.
They were playing chess in their den, Happy and Glo snoozing at their feet, so it ought to have been any other night. But James could sense that Ben was preoccupied; their conversation had lagged slightly, weighed down by unspoken thoughts.
But this seemed like the kind of silence that was more promising than foreboding. James simply moved his rook and let Ben return to play.
"You've got a whole weekend free again?" Ben asked, never looking up from the chessboard.
"Miracle of miracles."
"It's our last break before the big day. So I was thinking, maybe we could head out of town."
"Really? Where?" So, Ben wanted to take a trip. Another ski outing? Or possibly he'd reconsidered Spencer and Cassandra's invitation to join them on Spencer's yacht sometime. James wouldn't mind seeing whether Ben still fit into that scandalous swimsuit of his.
But Ben surprised him. "One of your other castles."
That didn't narrow it down much. "Which one?"
"The one with the dungeon. We could try that game again. If we did, I think it would go better this time. Much better."
James looked up from the board then, and there were no words for the wickedness of Ben's smile. He murmured, "Are you sure?"
"Definitely."
Just the way Ben said it had James almost impossibly turned on. "I think a weekend trip could be arranged."
***
May
"You're sure you're all right," James said as he settled in across from Indigo.
She laughed. "I'm doing wonderfully. Stop worrying."
"It's just--I know this is the biggest public event you'll ever do."
Indigo nodded, hand against her chest as though she were
collecting herself, but her beautiful smile never dimmed. A glint of mischief in her eyes, she said, "I did tell you once that I thought I could manage the events better if I wore a veil."
"So you did," James said, beaming at his sister in her wedding dress.
At that moment the horses began moving, and the carriage began its journey toward St. Paul's. The billowing lace of Indigo's skirt surrounded her in the carriage, and covered most of James below the knee; it was a bit as though they were riding on a meringue. James wore his uniform as an honorary colonel of the Irish Guards because the handsome red and gold coat seemed festive enough for the day.
They got closer to the gates of the palace and the waiting crowds. Slightly uneasy, James touched the brim of his forage cap and said, "You know, the hat that really goes with this uniform is a full bearskin. I should've worn that. It's the only way I could've outshone you."
Indigo stuck her tongue out at him, confidently resplendent beneath the Vladimir Tiara. "All right," she said, slightly breathless. "Here we go."
The carriage rolled through the gates, and the roar went up from the crowd. Yet Indigo never flinched. If anything, her smile behind her veil only brightened. She began to wave as they went by, and James was able to relax and start to enjoy the day.
And what a day! More sunshine than English weather usually permitted, the crowds ecstatic in their Union Jack hats and T-shirts, and every sight along the route brilliant and gleaming: Everything had fallen into place. It seemed to James as though even the white carriage horses had a bit of prance in their steps.
"Indigo?" he said as he kept waving from the windows of the carriage.
"Yes?"
"I thought I ought to say--Mum and Dad would be so happy if they could see this."
"Maybe they can. I hope they can."
James reached out with his free hand to lay it across her arm. "I hope so too."
***
Ben had never been a person who paid much attention to royal weddings, to put it lightly. Yet for the past few months he had been surrounded by the myriad plans and preparations for Indigo's ceremony, drawn into minutiae such as helping to approve the "official wedding crest" with its united A&Z. It was a relief to get it over with, he thought--especially as Indigo didn't buckle under the strain, but instead looked glowingly happy at the altar.
And the sight of James in uniform . . . well. It might be Indigo's wedding night, but Ben thought he might want to do some honeymooning of his own once the celebrations were through.
As for his part, he wore a morning suit in dove gray, which made him feel a little like Freddy Eynsford-Hill. At least Spencer was wearing more or less the same thing, and they were both sitting with Cassandra, who wore a canary-colored hat with feathers that seemed to defy physics, so Ben was pretty sure nobody was looking at him.
Except, of course, James, as he came up the aisle, escorting Indigo; he'd glanced over at Ben just long enough for a wink.
Once the ceremony, Ben was able to ride in the carriage with James to Buckingham Palace, where apparently they had to show themselves to the public before anyone could eat. As everyone gathered in the balcony room, and Indigo's attendants fluttered around her, fluffing her skirt anew, Ben turned his attention to straightening James's blue sash.
"She's so happy," James murmured. "I always told myself this could happen, but I didn't believe it until I saw it."
"Indigo found a way." Marrying Zale was only one of the ways she'd rebuilt her life, something she'd done only after putting the rest in order. "How long will you guys be out there?"
"Not sure. Ten, twenty minutes? Sometimes it seems like eternity," James said.
But then the queen interjected, "You will of course walk out with the rest of the family, Benjamin."
Ben stared. So did James. Richard opened his mouth as if to speak, but closed it again without comment. A hush fell. Yes, Ben had been taking part in more and more royal business during the past year, but walking out on the balcony to greet the crowds was something else altogether.
Someone had to speak, so Ben ventured, "Me, Your Majesty?"
"The two of you do intend to marry, don't you?"
James and Ben exchanged a glance. They hadn't actually discussed it in a while, but . . . "Yes, ma'am," Ben said as James began to smile. "We do."
"Then it is only sensible for you to join the family on the balcony," the queen said. "When we are asked about it, we can explain that you two have been engaged for some time but did not wish to take the spotlight away from Amelia by saying so. Thus we will announce the impending marriage without an official announcement, avoiding any controversy that might mar the happy occasion." She seemed very pleased with herself. "You see, I can be modern."
"Very well-thought-out, Your Majesty." Ben had to admit, even Kimberley Tseng couldn't have planned it better.
The buzz of preparation resumed, and James was now the one fussing with Ben's tie. He said, "You realize we won't have a wedding on this scale."
"God, I hope not."
James kept brushing off the shoulders of Ben's suit. "For us it's going to be a small private civil ceremony. Maybe some well-wishers outside."
"As long as we get the honeymoon, I'll be happy." Really there was just something about James with his beard, in that uniform.
"Of course, as we're not marrying in the Church, you can't become my official Prince Consort," James said. "But Grandfather will grant you a title, so you'll be able to have proper precedence. I've been looking over some of the available dukedoms."
"What?"
James grinned. "The 'Duke of Exeter' has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"
At no point had anyone mentioned anything about Ben becoming the Duke of Exeter--though by now Ben knew enough about royal protocol to realize he ought to have anticipated something like this. It felt absurd, but in a good way. Just one more strange twist his life had taken all because of his love for James.
"We should hold the ceremony soon," James continued. "Within a few months. Better while I'm Prince of Wales."
He referred to the declining health of the king. While there had been no other major health crisis, the king's attention became shorter as his constitution became frailer. It already seemed clear that, within the year, James would either be regent again or inherit the throne. "Yes," Ben said. "We'll get married right away."
Softly James said, "I just realized I never proposed properly. I'm sorry about that."
"It's all right. We've understood each other for a while." Ben folded James's hand between his. "Besides, I didn't ask you either, so I ought to apologize to you too."
"Oh, you couldn't have asked me. It wouldn't have been legal."
"Really?"
"Really," James said. "So I ought to have--"
"Shhh." Ben squeezed his hand again. "It doesn't matter. If you want, you can propose tonight. I'll even pretend to be surprised."
That delighted James, Ben could tell. They shared a smile, a moment in which their coming wedding belonged to them alone. "Would you? Oh, wait. Here we go."
Little flower girls swarmed around their feet as everyone approached the doors. James adjusted his hat; Ben told himself it was ludicrous to feel nervous. In front of them all, Indigo stood next to Zale, her arm in his, as he whispered into her ear--words of encouragement as she faced the crowd for the final time today.
Then the doors opened, and the roar welled up.
My God, Ben thought, listen to it! It was one thing to hear the din outside, but another to stand in front of it, to behold the vast sea of people waving Union Jacks in bright blue, white and red, and to feel that wild cheering and ecstatic energy all aimed in your direction. Indigo and Zale were at the heart of that energy, of course, but as he and James took their places at the side, Ben still felt the rush.
Maybe this was what it was like to be Bruce Springsteen.
Of course, James handled it like the pro he was, holding up his hand while smiling toward his sister. "Come on," he
murmured to Ben.
Ben knew what he meant. "Really?"
"Really. You heard Grandmother. You're part of the family now."
He felt strangely bashful--as though he were being inappropriate, but that was foolish. If Ben belonged anywhere in the world, he belonged here at James's side. So he lifted his hand to the crowd, and waved.
Lilah Pace is a pseudonym for a New York Times bestselling author. She is the author of His Royal Secret, Begging for It and Asking for It.
For those friends who read this story first and have given me so much support and encouragement along the way
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Lilah Pace, His Royal Favorite
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