Beating the System

by E V Darcy

Her heart lifted a bit at that. Maybe her grandmother would be present! While she never spoke to her grandfather, her grandmother was another matter.

  The Queen was a different kettle of fish to the King. Where he was hard and unyielding, her grandmother was firm but malleable. She didn’t take things as absolutes and was more willing to listen and consider things than her husband ever was. And while all that was the unequivocal truth, she was also her husband’s weakness.

  The only one who could get him to bend and compromise. Hattie was sure that a number of modern-day concessions to the law had come through her grandmother talking her husband around.

  That wasn’t to say her grandmother couldn’t be a conniving cow when she wanted. She had a penchant for making sure her family knew when she was displeased with them. She often dismissed the Grand Duke, her eldest child, just for speaking in her presence. It was also a well-known fact—well, amongst the family—that the Queen had no desire for the Grand Duke to rule.

  Yes, perhaps if her grandmother was here, things wouldn’t be so bad. Hattie’s heart swelled with hope and stood a little taller as they stepped past the guards dressed in their traditional ceremonial garb.

  While she was unimpressed at the pair, holding their huge swords in their hands pointed down to the floor—she also knew there were more modern firearms hidden away under their tunics—the glances that Roman threw at them, showed the Guardsmen had the desired affect; they added a little more tension to his shoulders and put a slight hesitation in his step.

  Hattie swallowed, reached out and took Roman’s hand in hers as they stopped outside the door the two sentries stood before. She took a deep breath before the butler opened the door and announced them to those inside.

  Her hopes deflated as they stepped inside the large circular study and saw only her grandfather with Marcus stood behind him, the captain’s brows drawn in a frown at the two of them. She probably should have expected the Head of the Royal Guard, and the fact he’d managed to take her by surprise showed she wasn’t ready to do this. She needed her ‘A’ game when dealing with her grandfather and right now she wasn’t even working at ‘B’ or ‘C’ level.

  She narrowed her eyes his way. It was bad enough her grandfather was about to try and pry into her personal life, she didn’t want his lackey getting involved too. She’d already revealed far more to him about Roman and Jensen than she’d been comfortable doing; what more could he want?

  Ol’ Dick didn’t even acknowledge them as they entered. Anger heated her veins and spread through her chest, climbing up her neck as his steely blue eyes focused on whatever the documents held.

  ‘Your Majesty,’ she and Roman said in unison as she curtseyed and he bent into the ridiculously rigid bow that was expected of him. While she’d had years of practice staying in the stupid dip for however long the King felt they needed to, Roman hadn’t. But she was impressed that despite Cormac only showing him the precise forty-five degree angle a few minutes ago, he held it well. Clearly, he had an excellent personal trainer. If he didn’t, he should probably get one after this.

  After what felt like an eternity, her grandfather finally cleared his throat.

  ‘Arise and take a seat,’ Richard told them, putting down the paperwork he’d been perusing and removing the thin-framed spectacles perched on his nose. He motioned to the chairs in front of the desk and Hattie felt his eyes watching them carefully as they took their places. Purposefully, she pulled her chair closer to Roman and took his hand again, noting the flicker of her grandfather’s eyes as he glanced to where their fingers entwined together.

  ‘I think we can forgo the pleasantries as I believe we all understand why we’re here,’ Richard said as he leaned forward in his chair, his hands playing with the glasses he still held. Hattie considered the movements; it wasn’t like Dick to play with things when talking, and he couldn’t be nervous.

  Her head tilted as his hands suddenly stopped and she slowly raised her brown eyes to his blue. He narrowed his fractionally, daring her to say whatever she was thinking, but she merely pressed her lips together and sat back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other, something Victoria always told her off for.

  Ladies don’t cross at the knee, they cross at the ankle, Victoria had constantly chided when they were little. Her eldest sister had taken great delight at sharing her royal training with her and Pippa, although neither of them had taken any interest. However, Alexi had lapped it up. Hattie was sure that was where she had the idea of one day becoming a queen.

  ‘Societal norms dictate that I offer you both my heartfelt congratulations,’ her grandfather began. ‘Although, I’m not exactly sure what I should be congratulating you on; the fact you managed to get pregnant outside of marriage or the fact you managed it with a man who has been in a very public, long-term, committed relationship?’

  Hattie’s eye twitched again as she rolled her lips between her teeth, biting down on them to stop her from saying what she wanted to. She felt Roman’s eyes fall on her and heard him take a breath.

  It’s fine. Everything’s fine, she told herself.

  ‘Now, wait a minute,’ Roman began, but his words were quickly lost as Richard turned to him, daring him to finish what he wanted to say. Hattie gently squeezed his fingers to both thank and warn him not to push on.

  She would be fine, she was fine, they were going to be just fine.

  ‘Oh, Mr Tyrrell, where do I begin with you?’ The ageing monarch sat back in his seat, resting his elbow on the arm of his chair and leaning his head into his hand. His index finger stretching up to his temple, as the rest of his fingers sat beneath his lip as he considered where he should start with his family’s latest debacle.

  ‘You couldn’t stay away from her, could you?’

  Hattie’s breath caught in her throat. What did that mean? Had her grandfather warned Roman away from her all those years ago? Was that why he had acted the way he had, so harsh and cruel the morning after their one night together? Was that why he had returned to Guildford like a completely different person in their final year? Was that why he had started dating Fiona? She’d always wondered what had happened to cause such a difference in her friend over a summer; what had made him suddenly decide that Fiona wasn’t a cold harsh bitch any longer but the woman he wanted to be with? Had her grandfather scared him away from her and into the arms of the Ice Queen?

  Or had Ol’ Dick approached him later? Had he somehow found out about the hurt and upset Roman had caused her and told him never to go near her again?

  Fury bubbled within her. Whatever the reason, he had no right to interfere with her life. No right to tell someone to stay away from her.

  ‘I’m sorry?’ Roman’s voice sounded cautious, almost confused. Was he worried about her finding out he’d betrayed her to her grandfather? That he’d given into the man she’d told him would try and control her if she wasn’t careful? She wanted to let go of his hand, to throw it back at him, but she had to remember where they were and who they were facing.

  ‘As well you should be.’ Richard sat up properly, disturbing her train of thought. ‘I believe my Head of Protection’—he motioned behind him towards where Marcus stood silently, his dark gaze levelled directly at Roman—‘visited you and advised you to stay away from my granddaughter.’

  ‘He did what?’ Hattie asked. Clearly it hadn’t been during their university days, Marcus had only become Head of the Guard three years ago, fifteen years ago, he had only just started out in the force, stepping into the lowest rank possible.

  She looked at Marcus first before turning to the man at her side. ‘When was this?’ Her eyes silently asking why hadn’t he told her?

  Maybe he would have if you’d have spoken to him in the car, rather than pouting like a child, her mind taunted.

  ‘Yes,’ Roman admitted, shifting slightly in his seat. He turned to Hattie and took her hand in both of his. She stared at him warily, as he met her gaze unwaveringly, his expression sombre. ‘I’m
sorry I didn’t tell you, but, well, there has already been so much dropped on us today…’

  Roman glanced at the Head of the Royal Guard from the corner of his eye before refocusing on the woman in front of him. ‘Captain Walker came to see me the day after the funeral. He arrived unexpectedly under a false name and, for your safety, recommended that I had to stay away from you.’

  ‘Oh.’ Hattie’s mouth formed the vowel, far longer than the sound carried as she recalled exactly why Marcus had kept her a prisoner for four days at the hospital. She bit her lip as Roman’s eyes tightened fractionally and she realised he knew she understood why he’d had the Head of the Avalonian Guard threatening him.

  ‘Jensen,’ she whispered. ‘Because he was dressed like you.’ Her voice held a hint of the sadness, the ache behind her ribs once again throbbing at the thought of her lost friend. But for the room she scoffed and rolled her eyes as she turned back to Dick and his interfering bodyguard.

  ‘He was a bit late with his recommendation.’

  ‘Quite,’ Roman agreed.

  ‘So it would seem,’ the monarch said. ‘From my understanding your… dalliance occurred at your own twin brother’s funeral.’ The King’s lip twisted in disgust at Roman before turning his attention to Hattie again. ‘And exactly a week after you slept with said twin. What, did the two of them frequently pass you around? A week on, a week off? How did you work out who got you on public holidays?’

  ‘How dare you!’ She threw herself from her chair and stood up. The chair skidded back and she heard it topple over as she leaned over the huge desk to get as close to the snivelling little man as she could without climbing on it. If she did, she’d end up grabbing him by his tie and punching him right in his nose.

  ‘You vile little man!’ she cried, slamming her fists down. ‘Jensen was a dear friend and perfect gentleman! He would never, never’—she waved her arm to emphasise her point—‘use someone so… so…’

  ‘Abominably,’ Roman interceded for her when she couldn’t find the right word. ‘Distastefully. Shamelessly. Vulgarly.’

  ‘No,’ Hattie agreed, stepping back from the desk. ‘Never.’ Her voice cracked, and as a surge of sadness and despair wash over her as she recalled so vividly how happy Jensen had been, smiling down at her as he hung from the car window and asked her to marry him. How he’d waved as he’d disappeared and then the sudden rush of heat and pain… There had been so much pain from being thrown back, from slamming into the door and the floor. More from running up the steps barefoot and trying to pick her way through glass and twisted metal, and the burning heat that seared her skin and stopped her from getting to her friends as he—

  A huge sob bubbled from her chest and she turned, her vision blurred by unshed tears as she tried to find a way to escape, to get out. She couldn’t let them see her like this. Couldn’t let them know how they affected her. She refused to let them see her so weak; it would give them the power.

  ‘I’m here, I’m here,’ Roman’s voice whispered as he tugged her into his arms. She fell into them willingly and clung to him for support.

  ‘Jensen,’ she mewed as she gazed up at Roman, her eyes wide and earnest. ‘He would never have done such a thing.’ He nodded, pulling her in closer and pressing a kiss to her head.

  She breathed in that wonderful aroma and something deep inside her told her she was safe, she was home wrapped up in his arms. She burrowed into him, her hands slipping under his jacket and up his back, her fingers twisting into his shirt to anchor her as she allowed herself to cry heartily.

  ‘He was my friend,’ she managed to get out between heaving sobs.

  ‘I know, I know he was,’ Roman whispered as he brushed her hair and continued to press kisses to the top of her head. ‘And I’d kindly like you to remember,’ Roman said to the King again. ‘That was my brother you just disparaged, my dead brother. He isn’t here to fight his own battles, but I bloody well will.’

  ‘And me,’ Hattie managed to say from where she had burrowed.

  ‘If you must know the sordid little details of our love life, Hattie and I were grieving my brother and her friend. We found ourselves seeking solace in the same place during the wake. We got talking and one thing led to another. It wasn’t planned, it wasn’t sensible, it wasn’t proper, but for that brief time, we stopped hurting.’

  Hattie took a deep shuddering breath at his words. Part of her wished they were true; that she hadn’t slept with Jensen and instead she’d been with Roman, even somewhere as crass as Jensen’s funeral. Of course, her mind knew that without the funeral she and Roman wouldn’t have had any chance of being alone. It was rare enough they saw each other at all. But if she had to have slept with someone and carried their child, she wished it was Roman’s.

  Jensen appeared in her mind, his eyes hurt and upset by her newest, deepest secret.

  I’m sorry, she told him. But you were right, I’ve always loved him.

  ‘You may be the King,’ Roman continued. ‘And Henrietta’s grandfather, but I will not have you making her so distraught. I think it’s best we take our leave now.’

  ‘Oh, sit down,’ Richard sighed.

  ‘No.’ Roman gathered Hattie in one arm and began to guide her from the room. She heard someone else moving and as she lifted her head slightly to see where they were going, she saw Marcus standing in their way.

  ‘The King said sit down.’

  ‘Move out of the way, Walker.’ At the sound of her grandmother’s voice, Hattie’s head shot up.

  Marcus glanced over his shoulder and quickly stepped aside, standing to attention as Queen Katrine stood there glaring up at the Guardsman before directing her fury at her husband. Hattie watched the Queen’s eyes narrow at the King before they turned her way, softening the moment her eyes fell on her distressed granddaughter.

  ‘Oh, child. My sweet, sweet Henrietta; has he upset you?’

  ‘Stay out of this, Katrine,’ her Grandfather’s voice commanded from across the room. Hattie couldn’t help it, she felt her lip protrude and nodded as more tears began to well in her eyes at the harshness of his tone.

  ‘Oh, come here, little one.’ Katrine plain ignored her husband, holding out her arms, and Hattie left Roman’s embrace for the other woman’s.

  It was comical. Queen Katrine was only just over five foot and while Hattie had never grown as tall as Alexi or Victoria, there was still at least half a foot difference between her and her grandmother. Hattie had to stoop down to receive the loving embrace the other woman offered.

  ‘Richard,’ Katrine’s voice rumbled low in Hattie’s ear as she brushed her hair back in soothing motions. ‘She’s carrying our first great-grandchild; why are you upsetting her? Stress isn’t good for the baby.’

  Richard mumbled something that none of them picked up. When Hattie’s sobs turned into snuffles, her grandmother pulled back and brushed Hattie’s hair from her face with both hands as she looked up at her.

  ‘I can’t believe you’re giving me my first great grandbaby!’ Katrine’s smile was genuine, her eyes sparkled with joy and excitement. ‘I didn’t think I’d ever get to see the day when I’d get to hold my first great grandbaby, and yet here you are. I am so excited!’

  At least someone is, she thought as she managed to return a small smile.

  ‘Just tell me who is actually the father. This one or the… Your sadly departed friend.’

  Hattie’s breath caught in her throat; had he been about to say the dead one?

  ‘I am.’ Roman spoke up behind her, his voice firm, brooking no room for discussion. Hattie imagined that in any other setting, no one would dare questioned him. But he wasn’t in charge in this room. In this room, it didn’t matter that he was the youngest VP in Seymour Medical, nor that he’d gained a double degree at the nation’s most prestigious university at the age of eighteen. And it certainly didn’t matter that he had a sizeable fortune sat in his bank account earning a very nice interest rate.

  ‘I’m not as
king you. I want to hear it from my granddaughter.’

  Hattie took in a deep breath and lifted her chin before turning on her heel to face her grandfather. He stood behind his desk, fastidiously keeping his eyes on her and ignoring the heated glare his wife sent his way.

  ‘And you better be honest with me, Henrietta,’ he continued. ‘Because I promise you this, if it’s his’—he pointed at Roman who stepped up to her side and slipped his arm around her again—‘you will marry him, and it will be for life. There will be no divorce, so you better tell me the truth. Which twin is actually the father of your child?’

  She glared at her grandfather, anger and contempt clear within her damp eyes.

  ‘I am not in the line of direct succession,’ she said, the strength in her voice surprising even her. ‘You have no power over me when it comes to who I marry, why I marry, or if I stay married. You don’t get a say in if I would be able to secure a divorce or not, like you do with my cousins—you made sure of that when you disavowed my mother.’

  ‘Good girl,’ Roman whispered as he leaned down and pressed his lips just above her ear.

  ‘So, I won’t be answering your questions because they’re none of your God damn business!’ She stared at her grandfather as if daring him to contradict her. Instead, the monarch simply sighed and sat back in his chair.

  ‘Damn right he doesn’t have the direct authority to decree your marriage an absolute truth, unbreakable before God,’ Katrine said as she stepped around the couple and moved towards the desk. Marcus grabbed a chair for the ageing queen and quickly settled it at the side of the desk, not facing the king but also not at his side. A clear display of who really had all the power. Hattie would have snorted at any other time; it was clear her grandmother ruled the roost when it came to the family.

  Her grandfather sighed. ‘You’re right, my dear, I should never have pushed Melinda away as I did. Maybe if I hadn’t the four of you wouldn’t have grown up so wild and uncultured.’

  ‘Uncultured? Wild?’ Hattie stared at the man. Had he no idea about them at all? ‘I lecture on world economics! I have a PhD from Oxford University!’ The King turned away, that same twist of disgust on his lips at the mention of the British school with the same name as his beloved castle town. ‘That I got when I was nineteen! I gained my masters at sixteen from our best university! How exactly am I wild and uncultured?’