Page 24 of How to Date a Prince

Thanks, Father, for lying on the show application.

“—I’m impressed with the care you took to follow instructions. Unfortunately, the results were crisped beyond recognition.”

I wince. A brutal but fair assessment.

“However, your table setting was artful and the floral arrangements an impressive surprise.”

“This was a difficult decision, and we’ve enjoyed very much having you both on.”

There’s a dramatic pause. My jaw tightens. A couple more minutes and I’ll escape to pack my bags?—

“With apologies, Mark, we’ll be sending you back home to your mates.”

There’s a slight commotion from the men before Colin quiets everyone down. Gisele gives a look of warning to the cast from where she stands with her arms crossed behind the camera crew.

Nothing like some minor pandemonium to provide welcome shelter. Or maybe it’s just shock.

Mark and I both stand frozen, neither one of us quite able to believe it either. He turns to me first. “Your Royal Highness, it was an honor to meet you,” he says with grace. We shake hands.

“The honor is mine,” I say.

Mark turns back to the others and shrugs. “It is what it is,” he says cheerfully.

I stand, reeling, while the cameras track Mark saying his goodbyes to the other men. He had been popular with them, and they’re sorry to see him go. Mark walks out of the kitchen, the camera crew following him out. Thomas gives me a bemused glance and a slight shake of his head.

My guts twist. I shouldn’t care what Thomas Golden, of all people, thinks of me. What I should be thinking hard about instead is why they didn’t kick me off the show.

Everyone gathers to eat the baked goods. No one comes to talk to me.

“What a joke.” Wilson, the standoffish man from the challenge, shakes his head. He’s a little older than me, an investment banker, I overheard someone say. He’s the one who came by my station earlier to heckle before Thomas Golden helped me. “We’re all supposed to be able to bake. He’s obviously a liar.”

I take my mic off and set it on the counter with a clatter. My hands tremble. I slip out of the kitchen and retreat to my rooms, as confused as the others.

They should have sent me home.

ChapterTen

In my room, I pack up my week’s worth of clothes and books with no small amount of relief, including my monthly standing book box order from Barnes Books with the latest queer romance selections, which came with a cute tote bag. Taylor sings at volume from my laptop, and there’s some comfort in “Anti-Hero.” At least the stone walls are thick, and the men are downstairs, if not already out the door after the week’s filming wraps.

It’s a shame I haven’t been sent home permanently, but home for the weekend is the next best thing. I’ll have the palace to myself, aside from the staff. Anne and Gav are still on holidays. My father is in Wales doing something kingly.

There’s a rap on my door. I glance at my watch. It’s too soon for my ride back to London. I only called half an hour ago, not sure what time filming would wrap for the day. I didn’t want to be a jerk and have a car and driver idle here for hours today.

“Come in.” I turn Taylor down.

The door opens. Colin enters with a tray laden with baking, including cake and pie slices, éclairs, and cupcakes. And, importantly, tea. As long as it’s not some kind of Trojan tea situation. Colin makes an unlikely Helen of Troy.

He looks genuinely pleased. “You disappeared before trying the fruits of our labors.”

I press my lips into a line. “That’s very kind of you. Although I’m sure everyone’s unhappy with me after the judging and would rather gang up against me than sit down for tea together.”

Colin chuckles. “It will be fine. It’ll blow over. Every week brings new drama. Besides, you did well on presentation.”

“But I didn’t have any baking to present as my centerpiece.” I watch as he goes through the ritual of pouring the tea. I join him at the table. We sit by the window in the plush armchairs, too stuffed to be reasonable. “I still think I should’ve been sent off the show.”

He gives an expansive shrug. “It’s television. And truthfully, I don’t decide these things.”

Obviously, Gisele does, along with the production team. They’ll do whatever it takes for ratings. Forget about fair play. Unfair play gets viewers hooked. I’ve learned that much about reality TV from my father.

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