Page 118 of Nobody in Particular

If Father wasn’t thinking of the girl from his twenties before, he certainly is now. A flash of pain—and comprehension—crosses his face. So, then. Despite his obvious efforts to justify his own parents’ choice, he remembers the suffering it caused.

Then he knows the pain he almost handed down to me.

“Did you know William was working with Alfie?” I ask them.

Thankfully, this does prompt a confused reaction from them.

“He and Alfie took it upon themselves to convince me to become engaged to Alfie,” I go on, and their eyebrows shoot up. And so, I tell them. About the forum posts, and the anonymous tip, the attempts to send information to newspapers, both unsuccessful and successful. The bargaining, and the ultimatums.

What I don’t mention—at least, not explicitly—is how much of this entire situation might have been prevented if I trusted my parents to care as much about my personal well-being as they did—and do—about my ability to take their places one day.

What they don’t share—at least, not explicitly—is what they intend to say to William about all of this. From the looks on their faces, however—Father’s in particular—I am reassured William and I might never speak again. And, I believe, the Paget-Harringtons may be hearing from the two of them sooner rather than later as well. But not before we settle the more pressing matter before us.

“What happens now?” I ask. “Do you intend to remove me from the line of succession?” I swallow and draw a deep breath. “For what it’s worth, I do think Albert and Sukey would do well in my place.”

Mum recovers first. “Well, we aren’t there yet,” she says. I don’tallow even a hint of hope to touch my features. “Let’s see what happens now.”

“Yes,” says Father. He still sounds sad, but the anger has dissipated. “We must meet with parliament, and we need to ascertain the initial reaction from the public. You must prepare for the consequences, Rose. If parliament opposes your ascent, we will need to reevaluate the line of succession.”

“I know.”

“And even if parliament allows this, that’s not to say for a moment the people will. And if public opinion drops further—”

“I know.”

Father nods, then surveys me, long and mournful. “It is a shame,” he says, his voice breaking. “I very much wanted to see you serve this country, Rose. You would have done splendidly.”

This shakes me more than anything either of them have said until now. It is, I believe, the first time in years he’s shown any faith in my ability to perform this role well. Only for it to come now, when it’s far too late.

It does not, however, make me regret my decision.

“We will need to work through this together, as a family,” Mum says. “But wewillwork through it. Whatever the outcome.”

Father touches her upper arm, featherlight, and nods in agreement.

“Thank you,” I say, and, just for a moment, my brash confidence is missing, replaced by a note of fear. For all I had insisted I would bear the consequences, I think no small part of me had worried I would lose their love forever. It’s always felt like a fragile thing. Much more so than their love for each other ever has.

But perhaps it’s less conditional than I thought.

FIFTY-TWODANNI

“I’m so proud of you,” Mom says for the tenth time. “I’ve always been proud of you, you know that, honey. But gosh, you have gottenbrave. My brave girl.”

Mom has been cleaning my room. She’s gone through and refolded all the clothes in my chest of drawers, and tidied the mess of papers on my desk, and made my bed so perfectly Harriet would be proud. I love her, and I’m happy to see her, but I am just about ready for her to meet Rose and go home so I can have my space back.

I’m pretty sure I’m bright red right now. “Not that brave.”

“Yeahthat brave. How many times did you flunk an oral presentation in Boulder because you couldn’t speak in front of the class? Now look at you!” She looks me up and down, shaking her head. “I’ve had so many friends from home message these past few days. They’re proud of you, too. Oh, and the people online! They all love you. I saw one of those—what do you call it?” She snaps her fingers. “Articles on my newsfeed about you, and all the comments, oh. So many girls look up to you.”

“Really?” I ask. “It kind of feels like people hate me.”

“Yes, well, you’ve always been someone to listen much more closely to criticism than a compliment. You’re my reward-motivated, inspiring,verybrave girl. And I—Oh,Danni, I just can’t believe youdidn’t tell me the princess is your girlfriend.” If she’s told me she’s proud of me ten times, she’s saidthatabout twenty thousand times. “I’m yourmom. I wouldn’t have told anyone.”

“It’s not ‘the princess,’ Mom. It’s just Rose.”

“Yeah, but…” She gives me a wounded look. “Danni, this is important. You should’ve told me.”

“It wasn’t my secret to tell! Besides, my being bi was probably enough for you to process in one hit.”

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