“Seems plausible,” I say on a light laugh. “What did he want?”
“The call he got earlier was security on the gate. Gerry Rush was trying to get into the club.”
That magic smile drops away like a rock. “What?” I can’t take any more. What the hell is wrong with him? He’s married, for God’s sake.
Damon’s eyebrows are scarily high. “Mr. Rush was demanding to see you. He soon departed, mind you, when Felix waved a few photographs under his nose.”
I feel myself shrink. But there we have it. Threats come first, then action should warnings not be heeded. My family’s army of advisors can’t possibly be responsible for the wreck that was Josh’s suite. It’s not how they operate. After being summoned to the palace, Josh would have received a polite stay away. It’s of no consequence that Josh would never take notice of a threat, nor would I obey my father’s demand. The point is, neither of those things happened. They would never jump straight into fixing a problem that may not need that much fixing. This is hurting my head.
“Just be careful, ma’am,” Damon offers gently, nodding past me to give me the heads-up that we soon won’t be alone.
Matilda joins us, falling into stride beside me as Damon drops back. “I’m not even going to ask,” she says snootily. “I’m offended by your lack of trust in me.”
The game is now over, the riders all dismounted and shaking hands. “He was set up. It was Josh’s room, but he wasn’t there when it was trashed.” I keep my eyes set on the field before me. “It happened while he was at an after-party. But the night they’re claiming it was done, I was with him all night. He’s been set up.” I peek out the corner of my eye to gauge her reaction.
My cousin is looking at me like I could be a unicorn pissing rainbows. “What?” she chokes, a little too loudly for my liking.
“Keep it down.” I link arms with her and start walking around the outskirts of the field, out of earshot of everyone.
“I don’t know what question to ask first,” she admits. “Wait, yes I do. You spent all night in Josh Jameson’s suite?”
“Yes.” I can’t help the smile that creeps up on me, my mind giving me a lovely replay of that night. And just now, back in the car when he laid it all out for me. He leads, I follow. It seems so natural.
“And you’re not falling for him?” Her glare dares me to deny it.
“I’ve fallen so hard I’m black and blue.” I laugh on the inside at the irony of that statement. My body has never been in such a terrible state, yet my heart has never been in a better state. As for my head, I haven’t the first idea how to deal with the state of that.
“Oh my goodness, Adeline.”
“I do not need you to tell me what a mess I am in, Matilda. Please.”
“No, you don’t. You have photographs of Josh’s hotel suite to tell you that.”
“That’s just it. I don’t think the wonderful institution that is our family is responsible. Only you, Eddie, Kim, and Damon know, and I trust you all wholeheartedly. Besides, they would never steamroll in and tackle a problem so brutally, not without the mundane warnings first.”
“Who else would want to paint Josh in such a terrible light?”
“I don’t know.” We come to a stop on the opposite side of the field, and I scan the crowds, my eyes falling on my father, who is flanked on all sides by close protection. “The King would never be able to hold back on berating me if he knew I had been keeping company with Josh Jameson, and he sure as hell wouldn’t allow Josh here today.”
“True,” Matilda agrees, lowering to the grass.
I join her, picking at the blades, observing the people waiting in line to lick my father’s boots.
“There’s your lover.” My cousin jars my forearm with a flick of her elbow.
I look to where she’s discreetly indicating and follow Josh’s path until he reaches Senator Jameson, who greets him with a firm slap to the shoulder before walking him over to my father. I watch, rapt. Matilda is quickly holding my arm tightly, equally as interested, and maybe nervous, too. My mind only bends more when the King gives Josh a friendly smile, taking his hand and shaking it firmly. I witness only civility in my father’s countenance. Then they’re laughing, all three of them, sealing my conclusion.
“His Majesty seems to like him,” Matilda says. “Maybe you are worrying over nothing.”
“Oh, Matilda, you say some stupid things, but . . . really?”
“Okay. It was a silly suggestion.” She turns into me, crossing her legs and pulling her dress over her knees. “Now, I want to know everything.”
I laugh. She really doesn’t. “Like what?” Where would I start? The whipping? The commands? The romantic ride on horseback through the countryside? The tiara upon my head when he fucked me? Or drifting off to sleep in his arms? I sigh dreamily like a lovesick teenager, all of my woes forgotten.
“Like everything, Adeline.” She looks across the field toward Josh, where he is still conversing with the King and the senator. “He has gorgeous eyes.”
“He has gorgeous everything,” I admit, getting a flurry of mental images flicker through my mind, every picture a piece of Josh’s anatomy—his biceps, his insanely tight stomach, his thick thighs, his hard pecs, his . . .
“He doesn’t look like his father.”
I don’t divulge what I know. It’s not my place. “I think he must look like his mother. She passed away.”
“That’s sad.”
“It is.” Smiling fondly at Josh across the way, I can’t help but feel a little proud of him for everything he’s achieved. Yet his success still won’t be good enough for my father. “Oh, look.” I point to the left of us, where the Argentine is wandering over with his horse, his hat dangling by the thigh of his tight trousers. His appearance gives me the perfect opportunity to change the subject. “That’s a bulge and a half.”
“You are disgraceful.” Matilda sniffs, coming over all fidgety. “I wouldn’t know. I have not looked.”
“Then do so, because it is delightful.” I yelp through a chuckle when she elbows me in the side. “He’s heading this way,” I inform her around a grin. “And he has his eyes on you.”
“Oh my goodness, what do I say? What do I do?”
“Relax,” I laugh, helping her to her feet. “Ask him about his beast. And I mean his horse, not his bulge.”
“Adeline!”
My grin widens as Santiago makes it to us, nodding politely. “Ladies,” he purrs, his accent thick and rough and sexy. I can literally feel my cousin crumbling under the pleasure of it.
I quickly kick off the introductions before Matilda screws it up. “Mr. Garcia, what a pleasure to meet you.” I offer my hand.
“Your Highness, the pleasure is mine.”
I smile and claim my hand back. “This is Her Royal Highness the Duchess of Kent. But you may call her Matilda.”
“Matilda.” Santiago flashes my cousin a mouthful of perfectly pearly white teeth, and, I swear, a twinkle sparks in his eye. The man is gorgeous, no doubt, but he is a little too pretty for my taste.
When Matilda fails to offer her hand to him, he takes the liberty of collecting it himself, placing a lingering kiss on the back. She stares at the back of his head, frozen, until I jar her from her inertness with a poke to the arm. She darts a panicked look at me.
Ask about his beast, I mouth, backing away on a smirk. She rolls her eyes, her chest expanding.
“That’s a fine beast you have there,” she says, and I chuckle as I leave them to it, making a mental note to call her later. I want every juicy detail. Well, perhaps not about his beast.
I watch Josh with fascination as I wander toward the hub of things. He’s laughing along with my father, and Eddie has joined the group, too. Senator Jameson is congratulating him on a game well played. I’m curious of what the King could possibly be talking about with a Hollywood actor, but I know not to muscle in on man-talk, not without an invitation, so I head toward the tent. Besides,
I can’t be certain I could hold it together with Josh so near in front of an audience.
“Adeline.” My father’s booming voice cuts my journey short.
I cringe at the entrance to the tent, contemplating, just for a second, pretending not to hear. That would be very unwise of me. So I paint on that smile and pivot, finding all four men looking at me. Eddie is the only one without a smile. I don’t like it. Be cool. Be cool. Be cool. “Father,” I sing, making my way to him, accepting his warm welcome. It’s quite a novelty after the last few times I’ve seen him, when he has ranted and raved at me.
“I don’t believe you have been formally introduced to the Senator and his son.”
Christ. My smile falters, but I quickly remedy it. “I don’t believe I have.”
Eddie clears his throat, and Josh flicks a curious look his way. I was right to avoid this cozy little group. How awful. “Oh, she has,” Senator Jameson pipes in. “At the garden party.”
Oh God. I’m as stiff as a board, frantically searching my mind for my next words. I have just blatantly lied to the King. Why would I do such a thing if I have nothing to hide? But he saw me talking to Josh. Is it possible he doesn’t remember? I don’t know, but I need to play it down. “Oh, of course.” I smile at Josh who is looking at his dad like he wants to rip his head off. “Forgive me.”
“You’re forgiven,” Josh says coolly, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Your Highness.”
Heat blazes my skin, damn him.
The King laughs, loud and rumbling. “Josh here makes movies. He’s quite an accomplished actor.”
“How delightful.” I smile tightly, trying to keep my composure. Just the simple fact that my father doesn’t know of Josh’s fame speaks volumes. Hollywood royalty isn’t on his radar, so I’m not surprised he thinks it won’t be on mine either. But it is. Like a huge, bright screaming beacon. I analyze my father’s disposition. He’s relaxed, smiling, and he is far from wary of the American before him. In fact, I would go as far as to say he is rather impressed by him. Maybe even likes him.
“And you are a very accomplished shooter, I hear?” Josh relieves me of his burning eyes, giving the King his full attention.
“Years of practice on the clays, my boy.”
“I used to shoot. Haven’t for years, mind you, but I used to enjoy a hunt from time to time.”
“What did you hunt?” the King asks, interested.
“Elk, deer, moose. If it moved in the woods, it was mine.”
Father is more than impressed now. “I hunted elk once in Arizona. Thrilling. You must join me one day. I like a bit of competition, and no one around here provides that.”
Did my father just invite Josh out for the day? I stare at Josh, astonished, who gladly accepts the King’s offer, because no one, no matter who you are, declines the King. I’m not quite sure what I’m witnessing. Silly thoughts start to bounce around in my head, visions of my father aiming for a clay and turning the gun onto Josh at the last second. Bang! I flinch on the spot, my mind now having the King tossing Josh’s body in a nearby ditch. Christ, what’s going on in my head? Or maybe the King really will approve of Josh and give us his blessing. Now, I’m inwardly laughing, because that is, without question, the silliest thought I have ever had. Even more silly than the idea of the King having Josh killed off.
I’m gratefully distracted from my crazy thought process when Davenport appears by my father’s side, whispering into his ear. The King’s expression goes from delight to dismay in a heartbeat. “Very well.” He moves away, addressing the group. “Duty calls, I’m afraid.”
Everyone nods at the King’s departure, and I use it to break away myself. “Excuse me, gentlemen.” I nod, turning away before I make eye contact with Eddie, the senator, and especially Josh. I’m ready to go home and process everything that has happened today. It might take me a while. And plenty of champagne, since I’ve been denied too much today. Whatever is going on?
THE NEXT DAY AFTER I’VE spent most of it at the stables, we collect Eddie from the barracks on the way back to Kellington. I’ve managed to avoid him since yesterday’s polo match, but now . . .
The atmosphere in the car is painful. I make idol chit-chat, none of which he indulges in. He mostly looks out of the window, lost in thought. And I positively hate the fact that his thoughts are undeniably centered on me and my predicament. Because that is exactly what it is. A dilemma. Me being smitten with a man, the perfect man for me, is a problem. I can’t even appreciate that Eddie is worried about me. I’m too worried for myself. The first thing I did this morning was check the online news for anything related to Josh and a trashed hotel suite. My heart pounded as I worked my way through every publication. I found nothing. My heartbeats calmed, but only a little. I’m still anxious.
A few times on our ride back to Kellington, after I’ve tried to engage Eddie in conversation and he has blocked me dead in my tracks, I look to Damon in the rearview mirror, as if seeking help. My head of security just shrugs his big shoulders, leaving me pondering alone. I don’t know what to say to my brother, and I am not sure it would make even a bit of difference to his opinion if I did. So in the end, I close my mouth and endure the wretched silence.
When we pull into the grounds of Kellington, I’m like a rocket out of the car, darting up the steps to the entrance in a rush to get myself to my suite so I can be alone and away from the lingering silence of the car.
“Your Highness.” Olive’s hands are held out in front of her ready to take my bag, but letting her help me would stall my escape. So I whizz past, catching her stunned look in my haste. “But, ma’am, your supper,” she calls to my back.
“I’m not hungry, but thank you, Olive.” I take the stairs two at a time.
“But Dolly has cooked your favorite, ma’am.”
King prawn linguine? My steps stutter to a stop on the stairs, my shoulders dropping in defeat. “She has?” I squeak, cringing at the plush carpet runner on the stairs before me. Dolly only ever makes me my favorite dish when she’s pulling no punches. She knows it’s the only meal that will get me to the table, no matter how much I try to convince her I’m not hungry. It is the dish she uses as a weapon, to force me to eat when I don’t want to. It is also a dish that she will be grumpy about should I decline to eat it, since it takes up so much of her time and steers her well clear of her usual, traditional meals. “I’ll take it in my room.” I try to bargain my way out of it, not wanting to upset Dolly, but at the same time wondering why today she has pulled out the big guns.
“But His Royal Highness Prince Edward has requested the table be laid, ma’am.” Olive, God bless her soul, sounds nervous at delivering this news. She should be. So it’s Eddie who’s pulling out the big guns? He wants me to eat with him. Why? So he can talk to me? We just had alone time in the car together, and he didn’t murmur a word.
I slowly turn, full of dread, finding my brother standing behind Olive, observing my stalled fleeing form on the stairs. His face is the most serious that I have ever seen. “Dinner awaits,” he says flatly, gesturing to the dining room.
I suppress my sigh and take the stairs back down to the foyer, letting Olive take my bag and scarf. But not before I retrieve my mobile phone. The quick dip of my hand into my bag isn’t missed by Eddie. “Thank you.” I smile a small smile at Olive, who wastes no time removing herself from the thick atmosphere. I envy her. There is no escape for me. I look at my brother, who gives me nothing but a straight face. I want to tell him he looks less handsome when he doesn’t smile, that his boyish features look twenty years older. But that would be in spite. The flat look on his lovely face is indicating where dinner’s conversation will go, so I roll my shoulders back and make my way into the dining room, determined to see this through. I will tell him exactly what is happening, if that is what he wants. I have not been holding back because I don’t trust him. I simply don’t want someone raining on my already flooded parade.
“Looks very nice,” I sa
y to the perfectly laid table, taking my seat and letting one of the footmen drape the 500 thread count napkin across my lap. “Thank you.” I smile at him as he backs away, and rest my elbows on the table, something I’d never dream of doing if dining with the King. I also wouldn’t dream of lifting my silverware before the King began his meal, but since the King isn’t here, I grab my knife and fork and dive into my creamy pasta as soon as it lands on the table in front of me, if only to distract myself from Eddie, who is staring at me across the table, not bothering with his supper. I feel my irritation build with every silent second that passes, to the point I resort to clenching my silverware in my grasp and breathing in deeply, looking at my brother with an expectant look. Like, yes, just say what you want to say.
And he does. Bringing his balled fist to his mouth, he clears his throat and squares me with a level look. “Enough of the games. What’s going on?”
I match Eddie’s stark look, fumbling for the right words and the best way to say them. I don’t know whether it’s his reproachful expression or my muddled state, but the only words I can find are those of a negative nature, and it’s a challenge to hold them back. I want to scream at him to let me be, to let me figure this out on my own. I don’t need to hear what I am faced with. I know fine well. “I’m seeing him,” I mutter, annoyingly casting my eyes away as I confirm what he knows. What I wanted to do was look him square in the eye with confidence and conviction. Why can’t I do that? Why can’t I push forward with determination? It takes two seconds to reach my conclusion, and with that conclusion comes a reminder of the fear that accompanies the path I’ve chosen. I’ve fallen for Josh. I care about what happens to him. It matters to me if he’s tarnished in any way. That amplifies my fear, because it all leaves me vulnerable.
Eddie laughs, and it is the most condescending laugh I have ever heard.
Ignoring it, I battle forward. “I try to feel free every day,” I begin, keeping my voice calm and even, determined not to lose my temper with the brother I love so much. “I—”
Eddie laughs harder, bringing my intended plea to an abrupt halt. “You are a Lockhart, Adeline. The word free doesn’t come with the job.”