Page 50 of Thrones We Steal

There is a hard set to his jaw as he says, “That became my role the minute I was born. But don’t worry,” he adds, and his face brightens. “I make sure he never runs out of ammo.”

Someone pulls him aside, and I can’t help feeling like he isn’t telling me everything. I nearly walked in on an argument between the two of them last week. I was on my way to the massive palace library, but raised voices inside stopped me right before I entered the room.

Pure human instinct caused me to listen at the door. I had no intention of eavesdropping, but when I heard the two of them arguing inside, curiosity got the best of me.

William sounded angry. “Need I remind you of what will happen if you let this get out of control?”

“I’m well aware, Father,” Henry said. “Nothing has changed.”

“We both know the temptation anything in a skirt poses for you. Your reputation speaks louder than your words.”

Henry again. “Well, I learned from the best, didn’t I?”

“Don’t patronize me!” There was a sound of a thump. Palms hitting a table? “I will be watching you.” I imagined him jabbing his finger at Henry. “And you know exactly what I’ll do if you break our agreement.”

Afraid they were about to leave the room, I scurried down the hallway like a mouse about to be spotted. My guess is Henry and his father both have some deep-seated issues to deal with, and neither will appreciate me sticking my nose in.

But just how deep are those issues, and what kind of fallout will result if they’re ever addressed?

17

“Set Fire to the Rain” - Adele

Despite the Crown’s confidence in their working relationship with the press, they failed to take into consideration the amount of cell phones that would be at the garden party, gripped by the general public who don’t follow the same rules of decorum as the peerage, and who don’t hesitate to sell incriminating photos of the royal family to the tabloids in order to buy groceries for another month.

That’s how pictures of Henry and Beatrice managed to grace the glossy covers of no less than six different tabloids, accompanied by headlines speculating on everything from Henry choosing the wrong girl to having a threesome with the two Chapman-Payne sisters.

Maisie waited three days to show them to me.

I wait three seconds before marching into Henry’s office.

It’s the kind of room you’d expect from a posh banker. A combination of leather, woodsy spice, and coffee greets me as his private secretary leads me inside. Three of the walls boast floor-to-ceiling bookcases, all made from a rich, dark mahogany. A fireplace is nestled among the books opposite three large windows that overlook the palace grounds.

Henry sits behind the massive desk in the center of the room. He looks up as I enter. His suit jacket is draped over his chair, and he’s sporting a pair of tortoiseshell glasses. He looks more businessman than rogue prince.

He stands and pours himself a cup of coffee from the mini bar in the corner. “Want some?”

I shake my head.

He takes a sip of coffee and winces as it burns his mouth. “What can I do for you?”

“You can stop making advances on my sister, that’s what.” I slam one of the magazines onto the desk. It makes a very satisfying wham, and his shoulders twitch.

He flicks his eyes to it, then returns them to me. “They write whatever they want.”

“Everyone at that party saw the way the two of you acted. Not only are you playing with Bea’s heart, but you’re ruining her reputation.”

“Maybe you should give your sister more credit. She can take care of herself.”

I clench my jaw. The last time I thought Bea could take care of herself, she’d ended up lost in the woods for five hours, looking for her big sister, who’d been so eager to shake her presence, she hadn’t given any thought to the consequences.

That isn’t going to happen again.

There is only one way to handle Henry.

“I’m here to strike a deal. Name your price,” I say.

His eyebrows float upward in an amused expression. “My price?”

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