Royal Master

by Emilia Beaumont

  Mum stumbled over her words. “I thought… It was a lapse in judgment. After all that girl has been through, she was close to Frederick, and all the hours she’s put in to get you up to speed, I believed she deserved a break.”

  I narrowed my eyes and read between the lines. “You were trying to set her up, weren’t you? Who with?”

  “Keep your voice down! And do not use that tone with me ever again. My patience is wearing thin, William. I’ve had enough. No longer can I trust you to do the right thing. Your flirting days, sowing your wild oats—oh, yes! Don’t you think I don’t know about that, boy—are over! Did you truly not understand why you were being paired with Annabelle tonight?”

  Momentarily I was off balance. And it took me a few seconds to register the meaning of her words. Had she known everything? The women, the booze, the cars? The private club?

  “Answer me.”

  “You said it was up to me to decide how far I would like to take things with Annabelle.”

  I had no interest in Annabelle. She was everything I was not, despite the fact that her upbringing was similar. Though that was probably my failing not hers. She wanted the crown, I wanted Sophie. End of story.

  “Really, William. Surely you should be better at this by now, you should be able to read between the lines. After all, you are a part of this family, born and bred. It’s not like you were picked off the streets or adopted! You know the rules; some of it must have penetrated that hardened skull of yours.”

  “Mum?”

  “Oh someone have mercy on me… We tried to ease you into the idea gently, but… She is to be your wife, William.”

  “You were actually serious?” I shouted, surprise flooding through my veins. “Fuck no.”

  Her fingers dug into my arm, anger reigniting in her eyes. “I told you not to use that tone with me. You cannot be the person you want to be anymore, William. It’s time for you to grow up and take some responsibility and the first step in doing that is getting married to someone of your ranking. Annabelle and you together is what this country needs to heal, and she will make an excellent queen one day.”

  “For someone else,” I countered. “I am not going to be forced into marriage Mum, not by you, not by anyone.”

  No. Over my dead body. I wasn’t marrying for power or for the sodding country at large. I wasn’t going to sacrifice my happiness because we were going to gain political power.

  “This is not up for negotiation,” the Queen snapped, the look on her face frightening. “You will go back into that ballroom and show some proper attention to your fiancée. Your father and I have agreed to allow enough time for you to date before announcing your engagement. But I warn you, do not try to test us.”

  I shook my head but remained quiet. There was nothing more to say; they’d made their minds up.

  Her expression softened some and she released my arm, patting my face instead. “William, look at me. I’m sorry, I truly am, but this is your life now and you must accept it, all of it. Warts and all.”

  “Do not sack Sophie,” I blurted, not wanting my wrongdoings to be her downfall. “The dance was my doing, not hers.”

  She dropped her hand, staring into my eyes. “Can you keep your hands off her, then? Sophie has done this family a great service, as well as her mother, but if she is going to tempt you at every corner, we cannot have her in the palace.”

  “Done,” I ground out, not even bothering to cross my fingers as I forced out the lie. I would do fucking anything to keep Sophie near me until I figured out this damn mess. She was the only one I could trust in the whole place.

  Mum studied my face, a strong internal debate going on behind those eyes.

  “Fine, she stays. But I will be watching the both of you. Don’t make me fire her, William.” She sighed. “The liberties we gave you… we shouldn’t have allowed it to begin with. We were too lenient on you.”

  I shrugged, emotion choking my throat. “It was my life.”

  She gave me a sad smile. “No son, it’s never been your life.”

  I watched as she walked away, my hands clenched into fists, her words running through my head. How dare they think I was going to abide by those rules? I wasn’t a fucking puppet on a string, willing to dance to their beat whenever they wanted. I wasn’t. I wasn’t my brother.

  “Fuck,” I said under my breath, running a hand through my hair. I hated this. I could argue with them all I wanted, but they had me by the balls.

  What was I going to do? Exile myself from my own family? I could, but I would be broke as hell and be forced to leave my home, my friends, Sophie. Maybe the country. She had been right. I had stirred the hornet’s nest and gotten thoroughly stung. Now I was being forced into a marriage; soon I’d be sleeping next to a stranger. Someone my family had picked out for me, like an outfit off the rack, and not the person I had fallen in love with all by myself.

  Straightening my shoulders, I felt the ever-increasing weight of the envelope and the letter tucked away close to my chest. I pulled it out and took one last look before violently crushing the envelope and its contents. I could feel the sharp thick paper digging into my palm. I released the crumpled ball, discarding it like just another piece of garbage and walked willingly back towards the palace. Back towards my doom and duty. I had just lost the last shred of freedom I had left and all I could think was that I should have ran while I had the chance.

  Five minutes had passed before I came to my senses. I couldn’t leave something as sensitive as what was in that letter lying around for anyone to find. What on earth had I been thinking? That was the problem, I hadn’t been.

  I hustled through the throngs of guests and back outside, my heart pounding with every step. What if one of the staff had already cleaned it away? They were constantly cleaning away empty glasses, crumb-laden plates, keeping everything ship shape. It wouldn’t do for someone to see litter lying around the palace gardens.

  I made it out into the night air and spun around trying retrace my steps and locate the crumpled ball. Small yellow lights around the periphery cast dark shadows and I couldn’t find what I was looking for.

  Panic swelled as I continued the search. Had the breeze caught hold of it and scuttled it away off the path? I turned the corner and a vague sense of relief came over me. This had been where Mum and I had talked. This had to be the place where I dropped the letter.

  But as I approached a silhouetted figure came into focus, the smoothed out envelope in one hand. The opened and salvaged letter in the other. I stopped as if there was an invisible barrier in front of me.

  “Will? What is this?” she asked.

  I wanted to snatch it from her hands, but I couldn’t move, my stomach twisting, sinking as if the floor had been ripped away from me and I was free falling without a parachute. The damage had already been done; I wouldn’t be able to remove the contents of the letter from her head.

  She stepped forward, her face now bathed in the light angled down from the palace wall. Her blue eyes wide and brimming with tears. Her lip quivering.

  “Sophie. Let me explain.”

  Eighteen

  Sophie

  “William?” I asked again as I desperately tried to make sense of what I was holding in my hands. My hands were trembling slightly, but I couldn’t decide if that was due to the sudden coolness in the air or the contents of the letter William had dropped.

  After our little dance and wholly inappropriate display inside I’d needed to escape to where a hundred pairs of eyes weren’t watching me. The garden had seemed like the sensible choice. Some fresh air to get myself under control before heading home. I’d stayed close to the path and like a dishevelled dandelion seed caught on the wind I drifted along it without any real care to where I was going.

  Soon, as I was making my way back towards the palace, the gentle thrum of people could be heard inside; tinkling glasses, the orchestra starting up again. But over the noise, closer to me, were two voices. I stopped, hidden in the
shadows, as I realised and recognised who they were. I couldn’t quite hear what they were saying but the timbre and tone of each voice was unmistakable; Prince William and Queen Beatrice.

  No doubt she was giving him a good roasting for what he—we’d—just done inside. But I didn’t move closer. I kept my distance. I didn’t want to overhear their private conversation; I respected them both too much for that.

  So I stayed quiet, unmoving, until I was sure they were both gone. Then continued on my way with a plan to head straight for my car to go home. Leave this whole sorry evening behind. I’d resolved to return the gown to Charlotte, too.

  But then I saw the damned thing, a sheet of paper moulded into a tight ball. Just lying there. Completely out of place in the middle of the swept path and pristine gardens.

  I picked it up with the intention of throwing it away as soon as I was inside, but then I spotted a blot of red; the cracked seal I knew all too well. Without thinking my fingers dug into the crevices and smoothed open, like an unfurling flower, what I now knew to be an envelope with William’s name handwritten upon it. One I’d seen before. It was the one William had taken from me all those nights ago when it had dropped from his suit jacket.

  The one with Frederick’s handwriting. The flap open, its contents readily available.

  William stood motionless before me. His face drained of all its colour.

  “Did you look inside? Did you read it?”

  The tears in my eyes were answer enough. I hadn’t meant to, not really. The impulse had been too strong, it was as if I was no longer in control of my body. One minute I held the envelope and then in the blink of an eye I’d torn its secrets from the inside, the letter in my hand.

  “Sophie, answer me! Did you…”

  My eyes were brimming with tears but the forcefulness of his tone made my gaze snap to his. They were alight with a blaze of fury. Hard and stern. I wanted to look away, wither away into the darkness. But then a softness appeared in his bottomless blues, a glossy shine as if he too were holding back the tears.

  I nodded and thickly swallowed.

  “Goddammit, Sophie!” he roared, the momentary gentleness in his visage completely obliterated.

  I found my voice and asked the question I really did not want to let out into the world, “He did it on purpose, didn’t he?”

  William stepped forward abruptly and snatched the letter out of my hands. He looked at me, his mouth partly open. Then he closed it again and shook his head. I began to reach out for him to touch his arm when he pulled back and walked into the darkness of the garden. But not before I saw a single tear cascade down his cheek.

  Hesitating between the safety of the palace ahead of me and the gloomy prince disappearing between the shrubbery behind me, I stood motionless for a second. But again, like I had no control over my limbs, my body made the decision for me.

  A few minutes later I found Will sat on the edge of a grand stone fountain.

  Strategically positioned underwater lights cast an eerie glow about his form. He had his head in his hands and was hunched over, sitting forward. I didn’t ask if I could join him and instead gently sat beside the mourning prince. Mourning for his brother and possibly for William’s own life he’d been forced to leave behind. Will released his grasp on his head and righted himself. His gaze flicked my way and he exhaled.

  I slipped my hand into his. He didn’t pull away and I gave it a little squeeze. I asked my question again and he tensed up.

  “Fuck, Sophie, I don’t know.” His Adam’s apple juddered up and down his throat. “It bloody well seems like it, doesn’t it?”

  I shook my head, still not able to come to terms with the contents of the letter.

  “He sent me a fucking suicide note, for Christ’s sake!”

  I winced at his open declaration and closed my eyes. “Frederick… he wouldn’t,” I trailed off. “He wouldn’t commit suicide.”

  “I don’t know what to think anymore,” Will replied. “But that’s what it looks like. What else could it be? He was passing on the torch, saying goodbye!” William’s voice broke, tumbling over the word goodbye and he looked away again into the darkness.

  “But why?” I said, asking the question that was buzzing around in my head. “Frederick wasn’t depressed. He was so happy. I saw him daily… he never gave any indication that he was planning anything like this. And you, surely you would’ve noticed him being off?”

  William reclaimed his hand and brushed it across his face, then stood. “It doesn’t matter now. It’s done. He chose to leave me in this fucking mess and he knew exactly what he was doing. The bastard had the nerve to apologise to me. God, I hate him.”

  “William,” I warned in a soft breath, “you don’t hate him. You’re just angry. And you have every right to be.”

  He shrugged and studied his feet.

  I joined him and tried to get him to look at me but he was in his own world, a world full of hurt.

  “What are you going to do? Are you going to—”

  The fire was back, his eyes hard and determined.

  “Nothing. Except burn the letter like I should’ve done in the first place. No one else can know.” He closed the gap between us and took my shoulders in a firm grip. “Sophie, you have to promise not to say anything. You have to forget you ever saw the letter.”

  “I—”

  “Do you hear me? The scandal would be too much to bear. You have to keep your mouth shut. My mother… she wouldn’t be able to take it.” He pulled me closer as his voice took on an edge.

  There was no thought in my mind to go blabbing about this new revelation. None whatsoever. The knowledge of what Frederick had done would likely throw the whole country into chaos, and the very foundation of the monarchy itself would be under threat. It would cast doubt upon them all… especially William. Did mental illness run in the family? Were they fit to rule? I could see the headlines already.

  “I promise.”

  “Good.” His thumbs lazily grazed over my shoulders, as his penetrating stare continued to bore into me. “You have to promise me one more thing.”

  “Anything,” I gasped, barely able to breathe as I looked at him. We were close again, like we’d been on the dance floor, and my head was spinning as if he were twirling me around.

  “You have to forget that this ever happened too… what’s one more secret?”

  Before I could ask what this was, his hands swept up my neck, cradling my face, claiming me, then he kissed me.

  Long and deep, he brushed my lips open with his tongue. I melted into him, my eyes closing. Unable to resist.

  I savoured his taste and the feel of him in my mouth as he took his time to explore. I pushed all panicky thoughts aside, batting them away one by one as they tried to make me see sense, to make me stop. But I was too far gone, my head swimming, drowning, falling.

  Utterly lost to him.

  I huddled under my quilt as I watched the telly, safe in my warm cocoon in the bedroom, shaking my head at the game highlights I’d recorded even though I had no real idea what was going on.

  Sleep was eluding me and I was too distracted to pay attention to the men on the field. My thoughts instead were constantly replaying the night’s events, a strange concoction of sadness, elation and then lust. And now my stomach was swirling with dread.

  After William and I had danced at the ball, after I’d ran with my tail tucked between my legs then found the letter and all the terrible implications of it, after that goddamn kiss, was it any wonder that I had a lot to think about?

  He’d put me in a position I didn’t want to be in; the secrets were pilling up and I was thrust deeper into a dangerous game. My future was in his hands. Though it was quite possible my life was already destroyed if his parents had anything to say about it. That dance was scandalous enough, never mind another kiss they knew nothing about, or my ever-growing feelings for Will.

  Monday morning would be the real test. I would be summoned and then my
services summarily dismissed; there could be no other alternative from their point of view. I was a liability. Regardless of who’d instigated the dance, I knew that they wouldn’t allow us to work together, not when he and I had so obviously embarrassed them.

  And though I felt sick to my stomach with nerves, a bubble of laughter escaped up my throat. That kiss alone had been worth it. His arms wrapped around me, touching me like I was the only person that mattered to him in the entire world.

  But I knew it couldn’t last. It was folly to even think anything more even should happen. He’d been emotional, upset that I’d discovered Frederick’s secret letter addressed to him. That was all the kiss was. A reaction that didn’t mean anything.

  Yet why was I thinking the unthinkable?

  A life together with a prince; walking down the aisle towards him…

  I ran a hand over my tired face, wondering what they would have done if William had kissed me in front of everyone and not out in the gardens in secret. I knew they hadn’t publicly executed anyone in hundreds of years but I’m sure my head would roll if his lips had so much as grazed mine in front of all those aristocrats and heads of state.

  I sighed. I wasn’t stupid. My fantasies were just that: fantasies. Dreams that would never come true. I’d been around the royal family for long enough to know that there were no exceptions: royals didn’t marry commoners. It didn’t matter that we were in the twenty-first century. Tradition was paramount and marriages were still used to gain political power and strengthen bloodlines. Love came much later, if at all.

  “Oh God,” I moaned, pulling the blanket up over my flushed face. I was thinking about love and marriage, and everything dirty in between, with William. Why did I feel the need to torture myself? This wasn’t love. It was a slip up, a momentary lapse in judgement. And even if I was, it didn’t matter anyway… he wasn’t in love with me. I’d just been a convenient prop to piss off his parents no matter what he said.