The Controversial Princess (The Smoke & Mirrors Duology #1)(105)

I sit where I am, my eyes constantly flicking to the doors, wracking my brain for a reason to excuse myself, so I can go on a hunt around the palace to find what I really came here for.

“You look distracted, Adeline,” Mother says quietly.

“Oh, not at all.” I wave her observation off, and my phone starts ringing from my bag. When Matilda’s name glows at me, I smile to myself, holding up my mobile so Mother can see. “It’s Matilda. Please, excuse me.” I’m up and out of there quickly, answering as soon as I am far enough away not to be heard. “Perfect timing,” I say in greeting, crossing the huge landing.

“It’s you, isn’t it? In those pictures spattered in every newspaper.”

“It’s me,” I confirm quietly.

“Christ, Adeline. Do you have a death wish? Where are you?”

“At Claringdon.”

“Whatever for? Oh my, does the King know?”

“Not just yet. But enough about me for now.” I make it to the window at the far end of the landing and gaze out onto the grounds, seeing a dozen gardeners preening the perfect flowerbeds. “Tell me what happened with the Argentine.”

Her soft giggle fills me with all kinds of hope. “We’re going to have dinner.”

“Oh gosh.” My grin is epic. “And your parents, they approve?”

“Why, of course. He descends from Spanish royalty, don’t you know?”

“Oh, I know.” The intermingling of royal families throughout Europe upsets me greatly. “So do I need to buy a hat?”

Matilda laughs, loud and high, though I sense nerves, too. “Hold your horses, dear cousin.”

“I’m very excited for you.”

“Me too,” she practically squeals. “But I am terrified I’m going to make a complete hash of our date. I get so nervous around him.”

“Just be cool. Almost aloof. Make him work hard for your affection.” I’m a hypocrite of the worst kind. I dropped to my knees for Josh Jameson in a heartbeat. Not too cool at all. Although I wasn’t wanting his affection then. Just his palm on my flesh. My, how things have changed. I smile to myself, warming up inside. “I have to go,” I say, glancing around the landing, my eyes homing in on the huge double doors that mark the entrance to the King’s office. “I’ll call you.”

“Okay.” Matilda hangs up, and I chew the corner of my mobile, weighing up the chances of being reprimanded for visiting my father’s office without an escort or invitation. Is Josh in there? Are they smoking cigars while discussing the plan for their hunting trip? Or is Josh dead already? That thought alone kicks my feet into action, and I head toward my father’s private office. I’ll think of an excuse for being here. Something believable. Something that won’t have the King suspicious. I still don’t know what that excuse is as I lift my hand to rap the door, and I don’t get a chance to debate it further. His loud voice is easily heard through the door, stalling my balled fist midway through the air.

“I don’t care how you do it, just get rid of those letters.” The King sounds furious, and I immediately feel terribly sorry for the person in the line of fire. Davenport, no doubt. I’m also wondering with annoying curiosity what letters he is speaking of, my frown deep. “This is unacceptable,” my father goes on. “There will be grave consequences should they make it into the cold light of day, I assure you. The Queen Consort will not be thankful. It’s been over thirty years. It’s history. And while we’re discussing problems, get rid of that blasted banker before I do it myself.”

My breath hitches, my steps reversing. Oh, darn. I realize his tirade isn’t solely surrounding me, but that last demand has me rethinking my bright idea of a surprise visit. It also confirms that Josh isn’t puffing on cigars with him.

“Eavesdropping again, Your Highness?”

I swing around and come chest to chest with Davenport, though he doesn’t move away, his stern face glaring at me. “I was doing no such thing,” I argue, all in a fluster.

His eyes are tired as he reaches past me, gently knocking the door before entering. My father slams down the phone and Davenport frowns, taking in the angry vibes bouncing around the grand office. “Your Majesty?” he questions tentatively.

My father shoots Davenport down with a scowl of epic proportions, and for the first time in my life, I see the King’s private secretary’s tall frame shrink somewhat. “Fine,” Father barks, sounding less than fine. I look out the corner of my eye to Davenport, who, in turn, is peeking at me. I can see it in his stony eyes. He’s wondering what I heard. He’s wondering who my father was talking to and what was said on the phone. He can wonder.

“Must dash,” I squeak, leaving behind the unbearable awkwardness, glancing over my shoulder as I go.

“The hunting party awaits, sir,” Davenport says to the King. His many years of service forbids him from entering without the required invitation.

“I will be down soon.”

“Sir.” Davenport closes the door, and I return my attention forward, picking up my pace before the major can stop me and wring me for information.

As I’m taking the stairs, I see David Sampson being escorted up them, his body clad in attire suitable only for a hunting trip. My steps falter, surprised to see him. “David, you’re back.” I kick myself as soon as I have voiced my thoughts.