The Controversial Princess (The Smoke & Mirrors Duology #1)(113)
Never have I heard Major Davenport speak to my mother so informally, and I can only watch as she turns clouded eyes to the major, tears beginning to stream. “How?” she asks, so helpless it breaks my heart.
The lethal edge of Davenport’s expression cuts deeper, his hand squeezing Mother’s. “I won’t rest until I find out.” He looks as fierce as a warrior, his stiff upper lip gone. It’s an alien sight, but I’m immediately thankful he is with us.
“Where is he? Where is Edward?”
“He should be—” Davenport is cut short by the slam of a door, and all our heads shoot to the entrance of the lounge. Past the madness, I hear a voice.
“It’s Eddie.” I’m up fast, running to the foyer and fighting through those in my path. Not even the formidable presence of the King deters me. I push my father out of the way and throw myself at a bewildered-looking Eddie. “Thank God,” I say into his jacket, clinging to him tightly.
“I’m okay,” he says, though he doesn’t sound it, his voice broken as he wraps a shaky arm around my waist. “Everyone needs to stop fussing.”
“Yes, enough,” the King barks, backing Eddie up as he pulls me away. “Let the man breathe, Adeline.” Father casts a stern look around the crowded space, and everyone heeds the silent order, dispersing quickly. Except me. I’m going nowhere. “To my office.” Father marches on, his relief short-lived. “Now.”
He’s not even going to give Mother the opportunity to hug her son, to shower him with love and appreciation that he is home. Safe. She’s standing at the entrance of the lounge, looking on, her place known. Business first, reunions later. That doesn’t stop Eddie from going to her, though, giving her a precious moment to feel him, kiss him, and hug him. She looks old all of a sudden, the stress taking its toll on her usual serenity. Holding his face with her palm, she smiles through her tears and pats his cheek lightly, a wordless show of her relief. The light kiss my brother drops on Mother’s head before he follows our father leaves the Queen Consort with her eyes closed and Davenport holding her arm to keep her steady, his duties all askew. He should be on the King’s heels, not tending to the Queen Consort. There are many other staff to see to her, as well as me, yet I can’t help but feel profoundly grateful for his clear concern for her wellbeing. He even walks her to the couch and helps her down before relieving himself of his duties. As he passes me by the door, I hold my hand out, delaying him.
“Thank you,” I say, and he looks at me, definite surprise being masked by his usual harsh blankness.
“Part of the job, ma’am.” He heads toward Father’s office and I smile, because it most definitely is not part of his job. This horrific news has rocked the palace to the core. An assassination attempt on Prince Eddie? I lean against the doorframe, looking up the stairs. It’s crazy. Edward is loved by this country. I watch as Davenport joins Eddie at the top of the staircase, his palm landing on my brother’s shoulder and massaging as they walk. And then the doors to the palace swing open again, and John and Helen are hustled in. John goes straight to the King’s office, and Helen is shown to the lounge by a footman, not giving me a second’s glance as she passes. I stand where I am, the quiet observer, as my mind spins, my problems seeming inconsequential now, and diluted by the madness surrounding me. I nearly lost my beloved Eddie.
THE KING HAS BEEN IN his office constantly, people coming and going, from MI6, to the Prime Minister, important people on a mission to get to the bottom of what’s happened. The incident hasn’t been contained from public. Gunshots in the countryside is not unheard of; high society shoot in the area frequently. But on that day, there were no scheduled shooting meetings. The bullet missed my brother, but it took out his horse. The sketchy reports in the newspapers is putting pressure on the Royal Press Office to put out an official statement.
Poor Eddie looks as dazed now as he did on that wretched day. He’s here, but not really here. We’ve talked, but he’s not in the conversation, his mind clearly wandering. I can’t blame him. The questions are driving everyone around here insane, including me. Not just because it’s becoming less likely each day that whoever is responsible will be tracked down and an explanation found, but because until then, no one is going anywhere.
If I ever felt like a prisoner before, now I feel buried alive. Claringdon is on lockdown, no one is permitted to leave. For two weeks, I’ve been contained within the palace walls, not even allowed to roam the gardens without Damon in tow. I’m struggling to breathe, and this is only worsened by the fact that I haven’t been able to see Josh for the whole time. We have spoken every day and there are constant text messages going back and forth. But no matter how much contact we have, it doesn’t ease the growing ache in my heart. He left for New Zealand last week. Now, he’s on the other side of the world, and I don’t know when I might see him again. The time difference is a nightmare too, our calls limited simply because of that. My only comfort is knowing he is missing me as much as I am missing him. My mobile phone has been glued to my hand wherever I go. When I take a shower, I prop it up on the vanity unit and never take my eyes off the screen until I’m done. When I eat, it’s in my lap on vibrate, so I’ll know the second Josh calls or texts me and I can excuse myself quickly. I may be na?ve, but I am sure Eddie is the only person who has noticed the extreme activity of my phone and my extended time alone so I can talk to Josh. Everyone else is too distracted by the shock of Eddie’s incident. It would be a blessing in disguise if I could monopolize on the hypothetical space I’m being given. But I can’t, and it is slowly driving me to despair.