12
Lunch with anyone at Regal Park Clubhouse is normally an engagement I would studiously avoid, because the clubhouse is one of the snobbiest places in London. Even the food is uptight. And honestly, usually served at the wrong temperature. The patrons dine here to rub shoulders, not to eat. Even the waitstaff is pretentious. Though perhaps that’s demanded of them.
But I’m on a tight timeline, and the clubhouse is conveniently situated on the upper level of Regal Park Racecourse, more commonly referred to simply as the Racetrack. Where Rian is racing Perseus today. The series of flat races being run aren’t for a title or a cup, but it’s a perfect qualifying race for a horse with a new trainer. A new jockey as well. Apparently, a member of Rian’s main staff also rides competitively.
My text messages from Rian this morning are filled with all sorts of stats and assurances as to why, even as a late entry, it’s a good choice of race to start off Perseus’s season. But nowhere among all that politely delivered info is an explanation of the distance growing between us. No sexy selfies. Not even a suggestive emoji.
So … my return texts have been just as polite. No mention of the kids or our run-in with the Möbius Group. Between Elias and the royal guard actively keeping a lid on everything, the illegal auction at the theater hasn’t been reported by any mainstream news outlets. And hopefully it never will be. I doubt that any of the figures involved are going to out themselves willingly.
I also haven’t mentioned to Rian my now-undeniable connection to the rest of our bond group. Instead, I’ve asked him to join all of us, including the kids, in the Royal Household Box during the race.
He hasn’t replied to that last message.
I tell myself he’s busy with preparation, and that I should focus on my main task for the day. Retribution.
Well, really, ensuring that the kids are protected.
But also, retribution.
By my request, because I think he’ll be the most levelheaded in this situation, Christoph accompanies me to lunch. Even though I know without discussing it that he’d rather stay with the kids. He grumbled through all the adjustments Sully made to his now-perfectly-tailored suit. Then he glowered at all the notes— about who might be in the room and what their presence signified— that Elias had inundated him with all the way out the door and into the car.
I had tuned all of that out, to be honest. The duke was seriously done with the earl’s ‘helpful tips’ for navigating the society that congregated at the Racetrack after less than fifteen minutes of it as well.
Forced back into perfect-princess mode, whether my power was tucked politely away or not, I would have preferred to be alone to tackle this disturbing issue. But apparently, I will never, ever again be allowed out of sight of at least one of my bond mates— never mind a full contingent of royal guards— while in public.
That last part is according to Raoul. And Anne.
Yes, everyone tattled on me. Okay, Roz and Elias tattled.
Roz still isn’t speaking to me unless directly and pointedly addressed.
Our armored Rolls-Royce pulls to a stop, deliberately blocking access to the elevator in the car park under the Racetrack clubhouse. Christoph slips out of the car and quickly moves around to my side, where I take his offered hand to get out of the vehicle. Then I tuck a hand into his elbow, allowing myself a little moment of pleasure because I’m so tiny next to the bear shifter. Another armored car idles just ahead of ours, with another behind for extra security even though we’re in a gated section of the underground parking. Royal guards in dark-navy suits slip around us, securing our passage.
“There’s no going back now,” I say. I mean it as a joke — I can feel the tension radiating from Christoph — but it comes out flat. And a little whiney. I wince.
Christoph steps around me, placing the vehicle at my back, and standing so close that all I can see is him. He gazes down at me with warm golden eyes.
“Mirth,” he murmurs. “None of this shit means anything to me. You can walk through it all, and I’ll be at your side any time you need me. You could choose to walk away from it all, abandon all your worldly goods and titles, and I’d happily hold your hand.” He squeezes my hand for emphasis. “How about I just keep ignoring everyone but you, and you do your thing, knowing I’ll be at your side wherever and whenever?”
I blink at him.
He flushes. That shouldn’t be sexy. Honestly, with how he left the dining room earlier that morning during my tryst with Elias, I’m not certain Christoph is actually interested in being sexy to me. So my reaction to that flush could be entirely inappropriate —
“You’re thinking a lot today,” he says.
“Every day,” I murmur, leaning into him just a little and enjoying the pocket of respite his sheer presence effortlessly carves out of the space around us.
“The bond is intense.”
I nod. “For you as well?”
“Yes. Have you spoken to Elias about it? He’s been doing some research.”
“Yes. And his parents were soul bound.”
“He said.”
I step a little closer, then give in to the impulse to run my hand down Christoph’s already perfectly straight lapel. The dark brown of his suit is a perfect color on him, highlighting his dark-blond hair and golden eyes against his light-brown skin. His muscles shift under my touch.
