His Royal Favorite

by Lilah Pace

  "We could of course cancel, sir," Kimberley said earlier that afternoon, as they worked out the details of his week's schedule. "Per our request, ITV has kept this under wraps, so no one outside the network need ever know."

  "We should go on with it." Although James wanted nothing so much as to simply burrow in with Ben for a few days, he recognized the opportunity the interview presented. He had wanted to talk more openly about his decision to come out, and now that he was no longer head of state, he could. Now he also needed to discuss Indigo's decision to seek help. Although he would not violate her privacy, he could put the basics in general terms and stress how courageous she had been, and would have to be.

  "I'm glad you agree, Your Royal Highness. In fact, I'd going to pass along a request from ITV that I think you should seriously consider."

  "What's that?"

  "They asked whether Mr. Dahan might come along, and participate in the final segment of the interview, perhaps seven minutes or so."

  That stopped James short. "Really? That sounds a bit--I don't know. Official." That was something a royal fiance would do, rather than a partner, however serious. At this moment, when James was unsure whether Ben would still be in his life three months in the future, the idea struck at something raw within him. "That's not a good idea. I doubt Mr. Dahan would be interested, anyway."

  Instead of agreeing, though, Kimberley said, "I would urge you to reconsider, sir, and I would be willing to speak to Mr. Dahan about this myself. You have an opportunity here that shouldn't be wasted."

  "Maybe someday."

  "No, sir. You should act now." She leaned forward. "As you wished, we have not summarized or reviewed the press coverage of Princess Amelia's hospitalization."

  James hadn't had the heart to look at any more of it. "Have the papers violated the privacy agreement?"

  Kimberley shook her head. "The agreement has held, sir. Even the tabloids have kept far from St. Maur Hall. However, other forms of coverage continue. Op-eds, letters to the editor, columnists, blogs, that sort of thing--and to a very great extent, the public sees the princess's hospitalization as something Mr. Dahan helped to bring about."

  It was enough to drive a man to despair. "They blame him? They're blaming him for this?"

  "No, sir." Kimberley smiled. "Do you not see? They don't blame Mr. Dahan. They credit him."

  "Credit?"

  "If you will permit me to say so, Your Royal Highness, while you are far more forward-thinking than the rest of your family in most respects, you did not give the British people fair credit when it came to understanding mental illness. Yes, there are rude and foolish voices--but most people sympathize with the princess's situation. They are ready for an open and honest discussion of her condition, and relieved to finally know the truth. Several other people suffering from anxiety and self-harm have spoken out, and the coverage has been more compassionate than I would have dared hope."

  At first he could hardly believe it. James had never been happily surprised by the media in his life.

  Kimberley continued, "Mr. Dahan has been singled out as a positive force mostly because of that one story, the leak from St. Maur Hall--"

  James knew it instantly: the one that had described Ben comforting him in the hallway, sheltering his face from the sight of others. In his indignation at having such an intimate moment revealed, he had never stopped to consider that people reading about the scene might recognize Ben's kindness, and the strength he had given James on that awful night.

  "And, of course, simply because he is the main new force in the royal family and thus considered more likely to advocate for an obviously new course of care for Her Royal Highness. For the first time since he gave his public statement as your partner, he is being looked upon favorably." Kimberley's eyes studied him intently. "In other words, sir, this would be a very good time for the public to meet Mr. Dahan."

  He took a deep breath. "Let me talk with him."

  Ben was deep in work on his book--so deep that it was less a matter of interrupting him and more a matter of getting him to surface--though James felt sure that wasn't the main reason Ben looked so startled. "They think I'm the one who got Indigo into treatment? That was Hartley, if it was anybody. And she's the one who's had to have the guts to go through it. I don't want credit for something that's not true."

  "It's true enough," James said. "If you hadn't been there that night . . . I would've known what needed doing, but I don't know if I would have acted on it. I was still trying to protect her. You were the one who said I needed to trust Indigo. To let her fight."

  "Still, an interview?"

  "You could give the credit to Indigo yourself." The rest of the suggestion would have to go unspoken, for now. They had chosen to give each other space to consider their future, which meant not saying, This is one more thing you'll have to accept if you stay with me. This is one more way of living in the public eye. You might as well begin.

  Ben remained silent for a few long moments, then breathed out in exasperation. "I need to shave."

  James grinned, and tried very hard not to read more into it than it was. Ben wasn't promising to be by his side forever, just for the interview. But he couldn't help grasping on to every thread that gave him hope.

  ***

  At the studio, Ben was completely flummoxed by the makeup. "Really?"

  "Oh, come on. It's not like you haven't worn it before," James teased as he submitted to his own powdering.

  "Some eyeliner. At the clubs."

  The debate was half joke, both for their own amusement and for that of the makeup artists circling them like honeybees. Although the performance-before-the-performance had become second nature to James, he saw it fresh through Ben's eyes, the need to be "on" while in the presence of virtually any other person.

  But Ben was managing. He understood what to do. James relaxed a little, knowing he could trust Ben in this too.

  Just as well, because once he took his place on the sofa, and the lights were adjusted, and he and Gavin Carmichael had said their hellos, the cameras came on, and it was time, at last, to speak.

  They began with the basics: The king's recovery, the end of the regency, and so on. James had thought he'd have to lead into his own "voluntary" choice to step away from the throne, but instead, the subject didn't have to be raised.

  Talk of the family led to talk of Indigo:

  "When did you first realize your sister was unwell, sir?"

  "Approximately a year after the deaths of our parents," James said evenly. The lights shone warm on his face. "Obviously that was a deeply difficult experience for both of us. I fear that my own grief may have kept me from fully understanding the impact on Amelia. Also, I remained at university. At the time we all felt a very strong need to go on with our lives as usual, as much as we possibly could given the circumstances. In retrospect, however, I wish I had remained in London with my sister. Amelia was much younger, and I believe she felt the loss even more keenly than I."

  Gavin didn't ask for details of injuries or for specific incidents. Nor would James have supplied them if asked. The horrors of the box cutter, or the blood-spattered closet floor, or Indigo's injuries on that final night--those remained private, closed to the world, forever.

  "What led to the decision for Her Royal Highness to seek inpatient treatment?"

  "She came to a point of crisis." Hartley too would go unmentioned. Although James felt he deserved more credit than anyone save Indigo herself, Indigo had asked for their relationship not to be revealed to the public. Insofar as possible, James was hewing to the boundaries Indigo herself had discussed with him in advance. The precious and the painful alike had to be concealed. "Her self-harm had escalated to a point where we were genuinely afraid for her. Our attempts to deal with her problems as a family had fallen short, and I think we all finally understood this. Amelia herself made the decision, which I consider to be incredibly courageous. She has a very long road ahead, and I intend to be with her every
step of the way. We all do."

  Now that even Richard was on board, James could say that and mean it.

  That was a natural segue, one Gavin Carmichael would tape a voiceover for and edit later. They took a quick break, allowing them each to get a sip of water while the camera was off. James stole a look over at Ben, who was looking polished and dapper while he sat in a chair off to the side awaiting his turn. Ben winked. A makeup artist blotted James's skin with a bit of powdery paper. In the background, Kimberley gave him a thumbs-up.

  The camera light went on again.

  "Speaking of coming forward, sir--"

  James smiled. "Yes."

  "It has now been approximately five months since you revealed to the world that you are a gay man."

  Some response seemed to be expected. "Yes."

  "Why then?"

  He gave Gavin Carmichael, and beyond him, the audience, his best smile, the most boyish and winning of them all, so this wouldn't come across as defensive: "Do you mean, why so late, or why so soon?"

  It worked: He earned a small laugh from Gavin. "Let's say both."

  "Both! Very well. Obviously, I was concerned about how the British public would react. Too concerned, as it turns out. I've been deeply moved and gratified by the people's support." Just over half the people counted, James figured. "I knew there would be significant concerns, particularly regarding the Commonwealth and the Church of England. Regardless of my own commitment to the monarchy, I realized that if I came out, there would be calls for me to step down. That bothered me less for my own sake and more for my sister's. Amelia was in no condition to consider taking the throne herself, not before she sought treatment, so I didn't want to add to the pressures she already felt."

  Might that change, in the future? Could a healthy Indigo become a happy, confident Queen Amelia?

  He and the interviewer spoke in more general terms about the changing public views of homosexuality--this part was half history lesson, except that nearly all the TV audience that night would have lived through it. But James could see the need for greater context. Then they moved on to Cassandra, whom James was happy to praise in glowing terms, and finally got around to the act of coming out itself.

  "Not all the press coverage was kind, at first," Gavin said.

  "No. I was particularly angered by one headline"--James didn't name the publication, though he remembered very well it was the Express--"which asked, What would Princess Rose think? That I found offensive. The rest was more or less what I had prepared myself for."

  Gavin surprised him again. "What would Princess Rose have thought, sir? How do you think your parents would have reacted, had they been here?"

  "My parents knew. I came out to them during my gap year. Both of them were loving and understanding."

  "They knew?" This seemed to catch Gavin off guard. "Did they advise you to come out, Your Royal Highness? Would you have done so had they not been so abruptly taken from us?"

  They were taken from Indigo and me, he thought, but the irritation came nowhere near the surface. "When they died, we were still working out how best to handle it. My father was perhaps a bit more old-fashioned. He supported me and accepted me, but was very wary of my coming out at that time. I think he had hoped to help ease me through the transition, which tragically he did not have the chance to do. I would have given a great deal to have him at my side." The sudden rush of sorrow James felt stayed nearly as well hidden as the annoyance. "My mother was more modern. She only wished for me to find love and be happy. So there's the answer to that headline. Princess Rose would have been delighted."

  And now it was time for the next segue. During the next break, James quickly drank some water as Ben settled in by his side. "Don't be nervous," he said.

  "Why should I be nervous?" Ben said wryly, as a makeup woman dusted across his nose with her largest puffy brush.

  "Just be yourself."

  "Please don't tell me to picture Mr. Carmichael in his underwear."

  That got Gavin to laugh, which was a good start, but James murmured, "I'm sure he'd rather be called Gavin. Let's make it a conversation." And eliminate any suggestion that Ben was deferring to a reporter, which was nearly as important.

  The lights were readjusted. The crew scurried off. James took a last glance at Ben's impeccable suit, at the way they sat side by side. To his happy surprise, Ben settled in calmly, even confidently. That was an act, but it was a good one. Very good.

  Gavin smiled as the camera light came on. "Mr. Dahan, it's highly unusual for a romantic partner of the royal family to consent to an interview, but we're grateful you decided to join us nevertheless."

  "Thank you for inviting me. I suppose this is a highly unusual situation," Ben said. James wasn't sure about that wording, but nothing dimmed his smile as he looked at Ben. Whatever else might come to light during this interview, he wanted every man, woman, and child watching it to know how much he loved Ben, and cherished having him near.

  "You've been the mystery figure in all this, Mr. Dahan. The British people would no doubt like a chance to get to know you better."

  "Mystery figure?" Ben cocked an eyebrow. "That sounds almost romantic. More so than the reality, I think."

  Good, good, James thought. Down to earth. Approachable.

  "Let's begin at the beginning," Gavin said. "How did you two meet?"

  Oh, crap, oh crap, can't talk about having sex mere hours after we exchanged names. James tried the neatest version of events: "We met in Kenya, on my tour there last summer. Ben was a reporter assigned to cover the final leg of my African tour."

  To his surprise, though, Ben continued, "Would you believe that I only got to talk to him one-on-one because of a rainstorm?"

  Gavin picked up on it right away, like any journalist scenting a juicy anecdote. "Rainstorm?"

  "It was rainy season," Ben said. As a reporter himself, he obviously knew just which details would draw Gavin Carmichael's interest. "Which, as you know if you've been there, means endless, torrential rain. One afternoon when there were no official functions, I was killing time at my cabin at the resort, and I saw this figure splashing around in the mud. I told him to come onto the porch and wait out the worst of it. I didn't recognize James until he was on the steps."

  "Really?" Gavin seemed delighted by the idea--as much as James had been, that long-ago day. "What were you thinking, Your Royal Highness?"

  "At first only that I wanted to get out of the rain!" James laughed. "Then Ben did me the courtesy of continuing to treat me just like anyone else, and before I knew it we'd got to talking."

  "We talked for quite a while," Ben confirmed. He was smiling--a mellower, gentler smile than his natural one. For his first time in front of a camera, he was great at this.

  Gavin said, "Obviously the two of you hit it off. But, tell me, Mr. Dahan, did His Royal Highness come out to you at that time?"

  Tricky ground . . .

  But Ben took it like a champion steeplechaser took a hedge. "If you mean, did he say the words, I am a gay man? No. But there was a certain chemistry."

  Absolutely true. Absolutely tactful. Absolutely working around the fact that James had more or less come out to Ben by putting his tongue in Ben's mouth.

  Gavin nodded seriously and said, voice almost grave, "Gaydar."

  Both James and Ben laughed out loud, though thankfully not so much that it would come across as ridicule, merely surprise. James said, "I confess, Gavin, that is not a word I ever expected to hear you say. But, yes, I suppose."

  "How long did the two of you speak that day?" Tom asked.

  Ben fielded this one too. "Probably about thirty minutes, just at first. I very much wanted him to stay longer, but I didn't know how to ask. Then James came up with an ingenious solution. He challenged me to a game of chess."

  "Chess?"

  James nodded. "There was a chess set in most of the cabins at the resort. Ben took up the challenge, and we played for--goodness. How long?"

  "Hours
." Ben's eyes met his, and he knew they were both remembering the secrets they'd shared, the way they'd watched each other's hands hovering over the pieces, the nearness of that broad four-poster bed that had tantalized them both. By now James knew Ben's body nearly as well as his own, and yet he could still taste the sweetness of that first curiosity, the deepening suspense.

  Gavin spoke at the very moment their shared gaze might have gone on too long. "Who won the game?"

  Ben pointed at James, who made a small victory gesture with one fist. Softly Ben laughed. "Don't think he lets me forget it, either."

  "But Ben's won more of our games since," James added quickly. He didn't want anyone thinking Ben was thick.

  "How many days were you able to see each other in Kenya?" Gavin asked.

  James knew he needed to take this. "Actually, not long after the chess game ended and I left Ben's cabin"--there, the crazy sex had been skipped right over--"I learned about the king's stroke. My sister called me, oh, maybe not five minutes after I'd returned to my own rooms. So I departed in a great hurry, obviously much preoccupied. There was no question of seeing Ben again after that."

  Gavin nodded and smiled. This was the fluff part of the interview, for him; no doubt he little suspected that, to James, it felt like leaping over hurdle after hurdle. What must it be like for Ben? Was he nervous too? He seemed calm. He was handling it beautifully, better than James had ever dared to dream. Ben's face remained genially handsome as Gavin asked his next: "How did the two of you encounter each other again?"

  "Luckily I was transferred to London one month afterward," Ben explained. "Not that it helped much at first. You can't just call the Prince of Wales and ask him to a movie, can you? But then I was given an invitation to a charity event James would be attending. I thought--I hoped he would recognize me. He did, and he called me over, and we talked for a bit before he invited me to visit Clarence House sometime."

  As in, an hour later, so we could fuck each other's lights out. James hoped he was keeping the wickedness out of his smile.

  To Ben, Gavin said, "You understood, at this point, that this visit would in effect be a date?"

  "Yes," Ben said fondly, as though he'd brought a picnic basket to their first encounter, instead of condoms and lube. "And I was very happy about that."