Page 86 of How to Date a Prince

He looks stunning as ever in a smart shirt and trousers well tailored to fit his athletic build. And his smile is as warm, the special smile I’ve seen him give only me. The smile I remember from lying in his arms in his flat high above London in our few stolen days together when we made believe the real world didn’t exist.

All thanks to reality TV, no less. I can’t say reality TV didn’t deliver in my case. But now, seeing him in front of me is an all-too-painful reminder of what we gave up. And now, the epic mess we’re in with the media.

My father will murder me if Thomas is found within the palace.

And he’s supposed to be on set or at a protest tonight against the Royal Family, and I have no idea how he’s here. My face burns.

“Hi, Auggie.” Thomas approaches, tentative.

I can’t help it: I burst into tears.

Concern immediately washes over his features. “I can leave if you don’t want to see me. I knew it was a risk coming. But Katie messaged me and said you could use some cheering up.”

I shake my head in disbelief, thrilled and overwhelmed and heartbroken all at once. “Why are you even in London?”

“Work. Filming. You know that.”

He steps closer to me.

“You mean you’re here for a protest.” My jaw lifts, but my voice wavers. I force some steadying breaths down like I have some pretense of control, but frankly, I don’t. “To bring down the kingdom. Or spring the ravens from the Tower.”

He gives me a wry smile. “Well, actually?—”

“You have got to leave before anyone else sees you,” I hiss. My shoulders shake, my chest so tight I can barely get in a shuddering breath.

“We’ll leave you alone for a few minutes,” says Anne, pointedly gathering Gav and Katie, who’re rubbernecking shamelessly, and they at last slip out of the room to give us something like privacy.

“I heard you weren’t well.” His voice is low. “That you’ve been having a hard time with your recovery. The media has gone crazy, and I had to see you.”

Swallowing hard, my voice wavers. “I thought you were off doing the show or whatever you’re doing with your app. Or your empire. Leave me out of it.”

“Republic. Since July 4, 1776. You might’ve heard of it.” The smile’s plain in his voice, and my heart leaps to see him. “Auggie?—”

“Thom, you must leave, right now. No joke this time. Before there’s an international incident. The Royal Family is meant to be apolitical and definitely,definitely notsupporting people who want to bring down the kingdom,” I repeat, my voice low as I catch his arm, searching his eyes. My hands shake. “I—I don’t know how you got in, but you must get out the same way. However you got smuggled in. My father can’t find out you’ve been here. Or the paparazzi. No matter what my friends might have said or done.”

I tremble, fearful. Frozen in place, I stare at him. Words evade me like running water.

Thomas frowns hard in disbelief. “Are you serious? I just—I’ve had it?—”

“Now.You don’t understand.” My voice is unsteady, the room starting to spin. “I’m not kidding about an international incident?—”

“This was a mistake, clearly.” Thomas’s expression is cold as he eyes me. “I should leave.” Hurt, he pauses at the door to look at me one last time and storms out.

Then he’s gone. And that’s even worse.

I rush from the room down picture-perfect corridors to my bedroom. I want to burn everything down, unsay what I did. Because for a few weeks, Thomas meant everything, even if it was make-believe and temporary in our own world.

My father is right that bloodlines do matter if the monarchy is to survive, whether I like it or not. Anne would inherit if I abdicated right now. Which I can’t do. I owe my life to the Royal Family and to duty. I can’t face abdication—I would disappoint my mother. And my father.

It would mean I would have failed my life’s purpose.

Plus, I don’t know if Anne has it in her plans to rule. My cousin James, who is next in line after Anne, is a train wreck, and his brother John is even worse.

I’m doomed.

ChapterThirty-One

The next morning, I’ve cranked the music despite the new headache it will bring as I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling. Camden orbits my head, going from pillow to cushion and back again. Music has been a memory, like Thomas and fashion, horses and pottery, and all of before-Auggie. I let the room spin, my jaw clenched. The sooner I can forget all of it, the better it will be for me to move on and face the inevitable future.

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