The Controversial Princess (The Smoke & Mirrors Duology #1)(109)
“Radio, ma’am?”
“How about a bit of Take That?” It’s out there before I can stop it, with no hope of being retracted. Damon’s eyes, now horrified, find me again. I smile, awkward, and sink into my seat, pushing back my laughter. “Don’t give up your day job.”
“Didn’t plan on it, ma’am. Unless you get me fired, of course.”
“Then I guess I should ensure you’re never fired.” I snicker, he scowls, and the car picks up speed, whisking me off to somewhere I really don’t want to be.
WHY ISN’T HE ANSWERING? I’M asking myself over and over with each attempt to reach Josh. I need to know how his jolly outing with my father went today.
This time when I arrive at Claringdon, Sid doesn’t regard me like a monster with four man-eating heads, because, of course, he is expecting me. He got the memo. But who sent the memo? My suspicions only mount when Davenport appears in the foyer. Since when does he deem my arrival at Claringdon worthy of his escort? He descends on me in long, even strides, his arms poker straight by his sides. “I’ll escort Her Royal Highness, thank you, Sid,” Davenport says, his voice, as always, leaving no room for argument.
“Sir.” Sid wastes no time skulking off, leaving me at the mercy of the King’s private secretary. I glare at him, my face low, my expression, I hope, telling him I know of his game. “After you.” He gestures toward the stairs.
“No, please, after you.” I smile sweetly, neither of us moving. It’s a glaring deadlock. I’m not budging. No way.
“Adeline?” Mother’s dulcet tone drifts between us, dissolving the tension a little. “Twice in one day? One will start to worry.”
“One has been summoned,” I purr, slowly dragging my hard stare off Davenport, but returning it the moment I catch a mild change in his persona. His always stiff posture seems to soften somewhat, and his cutting eyes grow nervous, fluttering between the Queen Consort and me.
“Whatever for this time?” Mother asks, ever exasperated, breaking my observing of Davenport.
“I guess I’ll find out soon.” I move toward her and link our arms, gently pulling her away from the listening ears of the major. She looks at me with questions in her tender eyes. “I heard Father speaking earlier about something,” I tell her. Her first reaction is her trained reaction: warning eyes on me, telling me that whatever I have heard, I shouldn’t speak of it, no matter what it is. But I ignore her and press on. “He was very mad.” I make sure I keep my voice low and quiet. “About some letters that he wants rid of.”
Mother stops and turns into me, her warning eyes now questioning. But she doesn’t question, just simply maintains her state of duty. “Adeline, you know it is not your place to pry into the King’s affairs.”
My teeth grind in natural frustration. Her reminder, although accurate, is laughable. No, it’s not my place, I learned that from a very early age, yet it is perfectly okay for the King to pry into my affairs. And he does. All the flaming time. “He said it was history. Said it would be a disaster if the letters made it into the public domain, that you would be very displeased.”
Her face is stoic, but there is something else there too, something I cannot quite read. And as infuriating as it is, I know I will get nothing from my mother if she knows something. And I have a feeling she does. “Like I said, it is not your place to pry in the King’s affairs.”
I close my eyes and pray for restraint. She knows something. When I mentioned letters, something changed in her. I admit defeat and swallow down my frustration, saying what I’m expected to say. “It’s probably nothing.”
“I expect so,” she agrees, smiling gently, her eyes wandering past my shoulder. I turn to find what has captured her attention, seeing Davenport. He clears his throat and gestures to the stairs. “Yes, yes,” I breathe, kissing mother’s cheek. I’m halfway up, Davenport on my tail, when my phone rings. I run the rest of the way, leaving the King’s private secretary knocked back by the gust of wind that my quick acceleration creates. “Josh,” I hiss down the line, moving around the landing to gain some distance from Davenport. “I’ve been trying to call you.”
“I know. I just came out of a meeting and picked up your calls. Everything okay?”
A meeting? He never mentioned a meeting. “Who were you meeting?”
“My publicist. You were right, I was wrong.” He sounds a little despondent.
“What do you mean? What happened?”
“What happened? I spent the day with the King of England. That’s what happened. Like I said, you were right and I was wrong. There’s not a fuckin’ chance in hell he’s going to give us his blessing.”
I flick my eyes across the landing, seeing Davenport waiting not so patiently for me at the top of the stairs, his foot tapping. “That bad?”
Josh laughs, but it is not a laugh of joy. It’s sarcastic. “Well, I was forced to listen to His Majesty and that David Sampson dick giving me every gory detail of your relationship with Haydon. Fuckin’ brilliant. Then I had the pleasure of listening to Haydon I’m-Perfect-For-Adeline Sampson reinforce it, with some added extras. Then I shot a few pretend birds and got an encore of all that torturous information. Did you know you will have two kids? One boy and one girl. The boy will come first, followed quickly by a cute little girl. He doesn’t plan on giving you much of a break between the birth of your son and impregnating you again with a daughter.” He huffs his displeasure, while my eyes get gradually wider, alarmed. “I swear to God, Adeline, I was so close to turning my gun on that asshole and shooting something with a fuckin’ pulse. Pretend fuckin’ birds. Who the fuck shoots pretend fuckin’ birds?”