The Controversial Princess (The Smoke & Mirrors Duology #1)(16)

That’s not true at all. I’ve had many encounters with men that my father has never caught wind of. Thank God for Felix and the communications team at Kellington Palace.

Father narrows displeased eyes on me, and Sir Don chooses now to step in with his thoughts. And we all know what they will be. “I’m sure you do not need me to tell you that the scandal arising from this would cast an unsightly shadow on the Monarchy.”

“No, I do not, so why are you telling me?”

“Have you no scruples, Adeline?” Father asks. I am not given the chance to defend myself, not that I have a defense. “You will marry Haydon Sampson. That is not a request.” His voice gets louder until he finishes on a boom.

I grind my teeth. “Edward is older than I am. Why is he not receiving such devotion to finding him a suitable wife?”

“Your brother has been busy fighting for our country.” He’s losing the plot rapidly, now standing over his desk in that imposing way that makes most people tremble when they are on the receiving end on his tirades. “He’s been making himself useful.”

“Oh, I see.” I stand abruptly, unable to maintain my calm composure. “So the only use I have to you and the monarchy is to marry and reproduce? To make appearances on request and mimic the words of royal advisors when I’m allowed to actually talk?”

“Adeline,” Mother breathes, making a rare intervention. “Darling, your father only wants what is best for you.”

“No, he doesn’t. He wants what is best for the monarchy. It’s ridiculous. Do you think the public is not aware of the sham marriages within this family? Open your eyes, Father.”

His fist lands on his red box, the box that’s delivered daily with important papers for him to sign, information to read, news to know. “My eyes are very much open. I am the King, dear daughter, and, like it or not, my word is final.”

His word? Or the words of the small army of men who advise him? The army led by Sir Don. “Exile me. I don’t care. I will not marry Haydon Sampson to keep up royal appearances.”

“You will do what I say!”

I take myself across to my mother and kiss her cheek lightly, feeling her despair. Then I turn to my father, whose face is now red with rage, and to Sir Don, who maintains a respectful silence, though I expect his thoughts are damning me to hell. “Thank you for a wonderful afternoon and for my lovely birthday gift.” I walk out, hearing Mother trying to placate her husband as he rants on about disobedience and my audacity to question his authority.

I pass Major Davenport as I leave, and I make sure he sees my glower. Although the man is impenetrable, probably necessary after nearly thirty years serving the King, and fifteen years prior to that serving my equally demanding grandfather.

“What’s ruffled your feathers?” Eddie catches me at the bottom of the stairs, and I spew out my grievances in one fell swoop, informing my brother that I would rather live as a pauper than marry Haydon Sampson. Perhaps I should join the military so my life has more approved purpose.

“Please,” I beg, grabbing my brother’s hands and squeezing. “Let’s go back to Kellington and get outrageously drunk. Today has been utterly tiresome. I need a stiff drink.”

“And something else stiff? Or have you already had a bit of that?”

“No, I have not, but I’m beginning to wish I’d taken him up on his shameful offer.”

“You turned him down?” Eddie’s shock is clear. “Josh Jameson?”

“And what of it?”

Snuggling my hand into the crook of his arm, Eddie starts to walk me out, nodding for a footman to fill my other hand with some champagne. Maybe I should stop drinking. My head is starting to feel a little woozy. “Not that I’m encouraging such scandalous behavior,” Eddie says. “I’m just surprised you turned down guaranteed fun.”

Fun? I inwardly scoff. Well, it was until I realized I was genuinely enjoying Josh Jameson’s idea of fun. “So when do we get to party properly?”

Eddie chuckles and gets his phone from his pocket. “I’ll send out an informal, impromptu invitation and let you know.”

“Oh, goody.” I kiss his cheek. Eddie sending out an “informal, impromptu invitation” is the best party invitation one could receive. And I am the special guest. I accost a footman and ask him to let Damon know I’ll be ready in half an hour. I’ve done my royal bit for today. Or maybe forever.





I SPEND THE NEXT DAY bored out of my poor mind, flicking through endless correspondence and letters that have made it through security and onto my desk. I read the words before me, though they don’t sink in, my mind far from focused. My head is not in my office. It’s in that blasted maze, and the wall of memories are too high for anything else to gain access to my head.

I curse under my breath and slam the papers down, giving up on trying to absorb any information. Getting up from my chair, I wander to the elaborately dressed window and gaze out across the well-kept grounds. The walls are beautiful, old, and made of rumbled stone, but high and impenetrable. The walls of my prison. What is Josh Jameson doing now, out there in the free world? Dinner somewhere? Maybe a spot of sport in a good old British pub? I’m being na?ve. He is insanely famous. There are no pints of beer waiting on any bar tops for him.