The Controversial Princess (The Smoke & Mirrors Duology #1)(90)
The King laughs, loud and rumbling. “Josh here makes movies. He’s quite an accomplished actor.”
“How delightful.” I smile tightly, trying to keep my composure. Just the simple fact that my father doesn’t know of Josh’s fame speaks volumes. Hollywood royalty isn’t on his radar, so I’m not surprised he thinks it won’t be on mine either. But it is. Like a huge, bright screaming beacon. I analyze my father’s disposition. He’s relaxed, smiling, and he is far from wary of the American before him. In fact, I would go as far as to say he is rather impressed by him. Maybe even likes him.
“And you are a very accomplished shooter, I hear?” Josh relieves me of his burning eyes, giving the King his full attention.
“Years of practice on the clays, my boy.”
“I used to shoot. Haven’t for years, mind you, but I used to enjoy a hunt from time to time.”
“What did you hunt?” the King asks, interested.
“Elk, deer, moose. If it moved in the woods, it was mine.”
Father is more than impressed now. “I hunted elk once in Arizona. Thrilling. You must join me one day. I like a bit of competition, and no one around here provides that.”
Did my father just invite Josh out for the day? I stare at Josh, astonished, who gladly accepts the King’s offer, because no one, no matter who you are, declines the King. I’m not quite sure what I’m witnessing. Silly thoughts start to bounce around in my head, visions of my father aiming for a clay and turning the gun onto Josh at the last second. Bang! I flinch on the spot, my mind now having the King tossing Josh’s body in a nearby ditch. Christ, what’s going on in my head? Or maybe the King really will approve of Josh and give us his blessing. Now, I’m inwardly laughing, because that is, without question, the silliest thought I have ever had. Even more silly than the idea of the King having Josh killed off.
I’m gratefully distracted from my crazy thought process when Davenport appears by my father’s side, whispering into his ear. The King’s expression goes from delight to dismay in a heartbeat. “Very well.” He moves away, addressing the group. “Duty calls, I’m afraid.”
Everyone nods at the King’s departure, and I use it to break away myself. “Excuse me, gentlemen.” I nod, turning away before I make eye contact with Eddie, the senator, and especially Josh. I’m ready to go home and process everything that has happened today. It might take me a while. And plenty of champagne, since I’ve been denied too much today. Whatever is going on?
THE NEXT DAY AFTER I’VE spent most of it at the stables, we collect Eddie from the barracks on the way back to Kellington. I’ve managed to avoid him since yesterday’s polo match, but now …
The atmosphere in the car is painful. I make idol chit-chat, none of which he indulges in. He mostly looks out of the window, lost in thought. And I positively hate the fact that his thoughts are undeniably centered on me and my predicament. Because that is exactly what it is. A dilemma. Me being smitten with a man, the perfect man for me, is a problem. I can’t even appreciate that Eddie is worried about me. I’m too worried for myself. The first thing I did this morning was check the online news for anything related to Josh and a trashed hotel suite. My heart pounded as I worked my way through every publication. I found nothing. My heartbeats calmed, but only a little. I’m still anxious.
A few times on our ride back to Kellington, after I’ve tried to engage Eddie in conversation and he has blocked me dead in my tracks, I look to Damon in the rearview mirror, as if seeking help. My head of security just shrugs his big shoulders, leaving me pondering alone. I don’t know what to say to my brother, and I am not sure it would make even a bit of difference to his opinion if I did. So in the end, I close my mouth and endure the wretched silence.
When we pull into the grounds of Kellington, I’m like a rocket out of the car, darting up the steps to the entrance in a rush to get myself to my suite so I can be alone and away from the lingering silence of the car.
“Your Highness.” Olive’s hands are held out in front of her ready to take my bag, but letting her help me would stall my escape. So I whizz past, catching her stunned look in my haste. “But, ma’am, your supper,” she calls to my back.
“I’m not hungry, but thank you, Olive.” I take the stairs two at a time.
“But Dolly has cooked your favorite, ma’am.”
King prawn linguine? My steps stutter to a stop on the stairs, my shoulders dropping in defeat. “She has?” I squeak, cringing at the plush carpet runner on the stairs before me. Dolly only ever makes me my favorite dish when she’s pulling no punches. She knows it’s the only meal that will get me to the table, no matter how much I try to convince her I’m not hungry. It is the dish she uses as a weapon, to force me to eat when I don’t want to. It is also a dish that she will be grumpy about should I decline to eat it, since it takes up so much of her time and steers her well clear of her usual, traditional meals. “I’ll take it in my room.” I try to bargain my way out of it, not wanting to upset Dolly, but at the same time wondering why today she has pulled out the big guns.
“But His Royal Highness Prince Edward has requested the table be laid, ma’am.” Olive, God bless her soul, sounds nervous at delivering this news. She should be. So it’s Eddie who’s pulling out the big guns? He wants me to eat with him. Why? So he can talk to me? We just had alone time in the car together, and he didn’t murmur a word.