The Controversial Princess (The Smoke & Mirrors Duology #1)(33)
AS DAMON ROLLS TO A stop on the cobbles of the stable courtyard, I spot my mother riding in from the fields with Aunt Victoria. My father’s sister is a massive fifth in line to the throne, much to her displeasure. The woman is aloof and frosty, and speaks with three plums in her mouth as opposed to the customary one.
Damon opens the car door for me. “I assume you’ll be here for a while?”
“Yes, at least a few hours.”
“I’m to collect Prince Edward and drive him to the barracks. Shouldn’t be longer than an hour.”
“No problem. See you soon, Damon.”
“Adeline, darling,” Mother croons as Aunt Victoria nods her acknowledgment of me.
“Mother.” I smile as their stallions trot toward me.
Aunt Victoria is the first to dismount, sliding off her horse with the grace expected of the Duchess of Sussex. “Good morning, Adeline,” she says with no warmth. “Did you enjoy your birthday celebrations?”
I smile to myself, reflecting on last night when the real party began, the dancing and the disgraceful rate at which we poured alcohol into our mouths. I would love nothing more than to bring Aunt Victoria’s snootiness down a notch or ten by telling her that her precious Matilda had a fabulous time, but I would never do that to my cousin. “The garden party was wonderful,” I exclaim, with a pathetic amount of enthusiasm. My faux excitement doesn’t escape my mother’s notice, her lips straightening in displeasure. Lord Almighty, I can only imagine the family’s disgust if they saw the shenanigans of Kellington Palace last night. But I definitely cannot imagine their abhorrence if they were privy to what I got up to in the privacy of my suite with a certain tall, handsome, American actor. It is off the disgrace scales, like nothing heard of before from a royal. I grin on the inside, and then kick myself for it. Because I, too, should be repulsed. “Must dash,” I blurt, kicking my feet into action before I can let any flashbacks take hold.
“But, darling,” Mother calls. “Are you not joining us for afternoon tea?”
I cringe, running through all the things I would rather do. “I was not aware that there was an afternoon tea in the schedule,” I say, pivoting to find my mother shaking her head in dismay as she slips off her horse.
“My secretary called Kim. We’re celebrating your brother’s wonderful news with the ladies. Did she not mention it?”
It’s utterly ridiculous for my mother’s private secretary to call my private secretary. Why can’t my mother simply call me? “She didn’t.” I can think of nothing worse than enduring my sister-in-law for the afternoon, especially now she’s carrying the second in line to the throne. I would not be surprised if an army of close protection officers tail her every waking moment. And every sleeping moment, for that matter. And on top of enduring Princess Helen for an afternoon tea, every other female member of the Royal Family, too? All in one room, sipping tea and picking delicately at cute cakes and sandwiches? I would rather be whipped with a riding crop. I flinch at my stray, inappropriate thought, my eyes falling to the riding crop in my mother’s hand. And my body heats. And my heart speeds up. And a throb starts a cruel beat between my thighs. “I have made plans to spend the day here getting to know Spearmint. Sabina has kindly set some time aside for me, and I really don’t want to cancel. I know she is busy, and her time is precious.”
Aunt Victoria rolls her eyes slowly and dramatically, fully intending for me to catch it. “Priorities askew as normal,” she mutters, walking her horse on to the south stable block.
I barely restrain my scowl at her back, and Mother doesn’t breathe a word in my defense. I’m not sure why I continually let it bother me that she never fights in my corner. She knows as well as I do that the women in my family, all but Matilda, see me as rebellious and insolent, just because I have not allowed myself to be marched down the aisle and handed over to a man of the King’s choosing. Because, of course, they’re all living in wedded bliss. It hacks me off. They are a bunch of frauds. The whole bloody family is an institution of frauds. “I will be sure to send my love and a gift to John and Helen,” I assure my mother, making a mental note to ask Kim to order some elaborate baby gift for my brother and his wife.
Mother sighs, and I make tracks to the north stables before I can be forced into showing my face at their afternoon tea. I send a quick text to Kim as I walk, asking her to source a gift, and then drop Matilda a quick message wishing her luck this afternoon. Her response is immediate.
You’re not coming? How do you always wriggle your way out of these things? And where did you disappear to last night?
I stall for a beat, breathing in.
I was tired. Enjoy the afternoon tea!
As I round the corner, I slip my phone into my suede tote and look up, spotting Sabina hunched against the giant trailer that stores the manure collected from the fields. I’m about to call for her, but someone appears from behind the wagon. The King. I skid to an abrupt halt and hide myself from view. Avoiding my father is at the top of my priority list, especially after our little meeting on my birthday.
I watch as he rests his hand on Sabina’s arm, a gesture of comfort as she wipes at her cheek. She’s upset, clearly, but why? Sabina and her husband, Haydon’s grandparents, have been managing the royal stables for as long as I can remember. Sabina’s a gentle soul, unassuming and open-minded, and despite her son being relentlessly supportive of my father’s attempts to marry me off to her grandson, Sabina has never pushed the matter with me. It has only made me appreciate her more.