The Controversial Princess (The Smoke & Mirrors Duology #1)(55)
I swallow and move away from the paper, unwilling to read on. I don’t have to, because I know one of these four men will enlighten me on the contents. Keeping my eyes downcast, I wait for the hurricane that is my father’s temper. “You are an aberration, Adeline,” he shouts. “A disgrace to the Royal Family!”
I flinch at his harshness, but I don’t bother mounting my defense. There’s little point. The journalist who printed this will have embellished the truth. A source close to me who doesn’t want to be named will have been quoted to confirm the headlines. It doesn’t matter that the close source is either made up, not close to me at all, or simply lying. People believe what they read, and in that article, I’m painted as an alcoholic, sex-mad, out-of-control princess. It will all be massively exaggerated. How did this happen? I saw Eddie stamp all over that mobile phone, and the idiot who it belonged to was ejected from the palace without it.
“We are constantly fighting back against the republicans.” The King launches into what I know will be a damning rant. “You are not helping matters.”
I catch David and Sir Don shaking their heads out of the corner of my eye. It takes everything in me and more not to retaliate.
“And how do you think Haydon will feel?” Father rants on. “The boy is waiting patiently for you to see sense, and you are carrying on like you are not promised to him.”
My jaw might crack from the force of my bite, my veins heating. “I am not promised to anyone,” I say calmly, defying the tornado of anger swirling in my gut.
“Wrong,” Father says simply, slamming his hands into the wood of his desk and leaning across threateningly. “I will not stand for this any longer. You will behave like the princess you are and fulfil your obligation’s as the King’s daughter, do you hear me?”
I close my eyes and inhale slowly, trying to reason with the anger dominating me. Don’t argue. Don’t retaliate. It will get me nowhere. But I also won’t agree to this madness. So I remain quiet where I sit. Father snatches the paper up and tosses it aside, huffing and puffing, getting more and more stressed by the minute. He will give himself a heart attack one of these days. “Davenport, get me a drink,” he orders, not even looking at the Major. I should feel sorry for him, constantly being barked at by the King, but he chose this life. Being the King’s private secretary isn’t as glamourous as it should be, at least not for Davenport.
“Am I excused?” I ask, rising to my feet, ignoring the disdainful looks pointed my way by all four men. I don’t appreciate it, but one thing I am managing to be grateful for is the fact that it is not my encounters with Josh Jameson that are cause for such anarchy. The soldier in that shot with me will be dealt with in one way or another. One kiss with the princess and he’ll be thrown out of the British army and have all sorts of skeletons crawling out of the closet, some possibly real, some undoubtedly fabricated. He will be labeled a fraudster, anything to discredit him and shine me in the best possible light. He will have spiked my drink, tricked me, or maybe something worse. And as for the snake who took the picture, I dread to think of the repercussions he’ll face.
“One more thing.” Father drops to his chair and collects a cigar from the shiny teak box by his phone. Snipping the end off with his cigar cutter, he lights up before dragging in a huge hit and letting it billow from his mouth as he relaxes back in his chair. “Colin Sampson passed away last night.” He says it so casually, like he hasn’t just advised me that Sabina has lost her husband, David his father, and Haydon his grandfather.
“What?” I look to David, expecting to find sadness at the mention of his father’s death, but all I see is an indifferent expression, nothing there. “David, I’m so sorry. How is Sabina?”
He looks at me, stoic. “Grief stricken.”
I’m so sad for her. “And Haydon?”
His blankness doesn’t waver. “Do you care?”
“Of course I care,” I splutter, deeply offended. I may not love the man or want to dance down the aisle into his arms, but I care deeply for him.
“Then maybe you could demonstrate that by comforting him through this difficult time.”
Well … ouch. David’s father has just passed away, and he’s monopolizing this as a way to push me toward his son? “I will be sure to call Haydon immediately. And your mother.”
David huffs, dismissing me by looking away. “Maybe your compassion and support will redeem you with my son after the disgrace you’ve brought upon this family.”
This family? He talks like he’s already a direct member of this family. “Good day.” I strain a smile and get on my way before I lose all resistance and ping-pong around the King’s office in an inappropriate outburst.
“We will talk again once you have had time to think about your actions,” Father calls, short and clipped.
My hand squeezes the solid gold knob on the door. “Why are you doing this?” I grate.
He ignores me, turning to Davenport to accept his drink, completely dismissing me. Picking up some papers from his red box, he scans a few and drops them again. “How much of this do I actually have to read? I’d like to go shooting.”
“Sir.” Davenport approaches the red box and pulls out a file, opening it up. “These require your signature.”