“What’s the matter, lover,” Briggs says as he stumbles inside. “You and Charlotte have a fight?”
I slap her note against his chest and he grabs it. “Read this.”
“You read it. My head hurts to bad.”
“Suck it up, buttercup, and read the damn thing.” I sort through the pictures and handwritten notes that I did not make. None of this is in my handwriting, but how can I prove that to her. She’s never seen my handwriting.
“You’ve known all along…” Briggs joins me at my desk. “I don’t understand.”
“She thinks that I’ve known her secrets and was just using her.”
“Well, if you already knew her secrets, why would you use her to get them?” he asks.
“To confirm them. She knows I don’t publish anything without verifying.”
“Dude, you have to go after her.”
“Will do, bro, right after I shower and beat the shit out of Davies.”
“Want some help?” he asks.
I turn to him, a smile kicking up the corners of my mouth. “You have a political career ahead of you. No need to do something I’d be forced to write about.”
He grabs my shoulder. “I mean it, Brooks. I have your back.”
“I know you do, but this is something that I have to take care of on my own. I caused this mess in the first place.” Well, I didn’t force her mother’s bodyguard to confess that he fathered five of the six Sinclair siblings and I sure as shit didn’t have a fucking clue that my princess is actually the rightful queen of the Isle of Man. “I have to protect Charlotte and make things right.”
“You’re still a good guy—I knew it.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Yeah, well, you’d buried that good guy under a huge pile of asshole.”
I can’t argue with my twin because it’s true.
“Seriously, go. Get a shower and some sleep. You smell like ass.”
“Better than your ass,” he quips, making no sense. Another squeeze of my shoulder and he’s gone, his footsteps heavy on the hardwood floor.
Leaning over, I grab my phone from the bag and call Charlotte. Just like I expected, she doesn’t answer, so I leave her a voicemail.
“I’m coming for you, Princess, and I’m going to prove that I’m a changed man.” There’s no need to tell her I didn’t do it. That I hadn’t gathered information on her or her family over the years, because I have…only I didn’t have this kind of information. The kind of information only achieved via a mole in the government.
The birth certificates have the original official seals, after all. Not even your average villain of a journalist with the best connections, i.e., me, could have gotten his hands on this.
It’s fucking platinum.
It’s the truth, her birth certificate anyway. There’s nothing salacious about it, like the maybe babies’ daddy confession.
I could win so many awards if I published a piece on her. So damn many, and doors would open. Doors I’ve dreamed of walking through, only to flip those bastards off and walk out again.
Besides, I reason with myself, doesn’t Charlotte deserve to be queen? Doesn’t she deserve to be the one with all the attention instead of a wallflower? If I were to publish, just the part about their birth certificates, it would be a good thing.
An unselfish thing on my part because I know I could never have her then, but she’s worth it. Her happiness is worth it.
And that’s what I keep telling myself when I call the number on the card that’s at the bottom of the pile to make arrangements to meet with the former prime minister.
—
I’m not shocked at all when Davies agrees to meet me in London the next day.
He’s waiting for me in a small tea shop near the British House of Lords. Without waiting for his permission or some kind of smug wave over, I stride to his table, spin the chair around, and sit down, making sure to place both elbows on the table.
I figure shit like that gets to a man like him.
His gaze zooms right in on my arms.
Bingo.
“How’s it hanging, Dave?” I ask.
“Davies.”
“Davies? Is that a British slang for dick?”
His jaw ticks and it’s all I can do not to laugh in his face. “No. I take it you’ve sorted through the contents of the envelope I gave you.”
“Yeah, and it’s big news. Huge. Could totally make my career—if it were true.”
He looks so offended that I’m surprised his beady eyes don’t bug out of his head. “I can assure you that everything has been carefully documented.”
“That handwriting is very neat. Better than my chicken scratch.”
“I wrote them myself.”
I pull out my phone, pretending to scroll through my texts. “I’m sure you got an A in penmanship. Anyway, how do you expect me to publish something that’s not verified from an original source?”
“I’m the source. I was there when the twins were delivered and certified their birth certificates myself,” he says smugly. “We can’t have the queen trying to pass off another’s child as her own.”
“You were in the hospital room?”
“Naturally.”
My jaw all but drops. “That’s…”
“The burden of royalty, Mr. Walker. It’s a matter of public record, should you like to search the royal library at Saint-Lyons castle.” He picks up his teacup, pinky out in a way that Frankie Prescott could never get the boys to do during Cotillion lessons. “In any case, since you now have verified the original source, what are your plans?”
“To verify your verification. It’s the burden of journalism.”
“You’ll need an invitation to the castle, but—”
I shake my phone at him. “I have one of those and a press pass.” That showed up in my in-box the morning I discovered Charlotte had left. Since they still haven’t been revoked, I’m assuming Charlotte hasn’t shared anything with her sister.
Yet.
“Are you sure you’ll be able to pull this off? You and the princess seem to be rather close. She met your family and was seen with you at your private residence on Smith Island.”
My skin crawls at the thought of him knowing her every move. “We’re no longer seeing each other. She got…tired of slumming,” I say with a shrug. “You know how those Sinclairs are.”
“Ah, so revenge is in order,” he replies, indicating that he knows less than shit about Charlotte.
“Something like that.” Only it’s going to be on your ass, not hers.
He extends his hand and I take it, even though I’d rather break off his fingers and feed them to him. But I can’t show my hand and he’s got his security team with him.
“Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Walker. I’ll be sure to email the owner of the private Delaware LLC to let them know a takeover is no longer needed…as soon as you send me the draft of your article.”
Fucking asshole. “I’ve already asked for my shares back that will make me majority owner.”
“And your request has been denied.”
“The contract was ironclad.”
“There are always loopholes,” he says pleasantly. “Strange that you haven’t heard from them as of late.”
“You think you’ve got me by the balls, but you won’t win. Squeeze as hard as you want, Davies. I won’t squeal unless I feel like it, and even then it will only be what I think is best for public consumption.”
He smiles, pleasant and friendly. “I won’t have to squeeze. Your ego will do it for me.”
Chapter 17
Charlotte
I deliberated going back home to St. Claire so I could talk with Theo, but he’s out of the country at the moment, so I settle on flying to Gen, like I promised.
Peter glances over his newspaper at me. “Is there anything I can do, Princess?”
Quickly, I shake my head. I know that one word from me and he would find a way to make Brooks disappear
. Something that should make me happy, but to even think of it makes me want to cry.
“I’m fine. Just a little homesick is all with the traveling we’ve been doing.”
“We can practice Ymladd Iscuitt,” he suggests. “I’ll even allow you to get a few good hits in.”
“Bless you, Peter, but the last thing I feel like doing is fighting. I’m tired.”
His dark, knowing gaze nearly makes me blush. “Then rest and I will wake you up once we land.”
I stand and start to move toward one of the bedrooms at the back of the plane, then pause. “I’m so very glad you’re the one that Beaumont chose to protect me.”
“He didn’t pick me. I volunteered.” He smiles warmly at me, with open affection.
Oh dear. This is so very awkward. “You did—how lovely.”
His lips twist. “You remind me of my sister.”
I smile sheepishly. “I had no idea—not that you had a sister. Naturally, you have a sister. Her name is Fiona and she’s been married for several years now. Two children—Liam and Molly.”
He laughs. “Calm down, Princess. I know what you meant and, after all you’ve been through, maybe it would be a good thing to have a man bent on protecting you that also thinks that you’re very beautiful and kind.”
Like Brooks did. How often did he compliment me? “I don’t need protecting, except by a man who thinks of me like his sister.”
“Yeah, and my boyfriend’s glad I chose you instead of Theo,” Peter says.
Once again I’m at a loss for words. “You think Theo is more attractive than I am.”
He smirks. “Can’t help what I like.”
This time I burst out laughing. “You must think the worst of me—one minute thinking that you’re hitting on me and the next complaining that you prefer my brother’s looks over mine.”
“It’s good to hear you laugh instead of holding back your tears,” he says in all seriousness. “Go rest, Princess.”
I walk to him, bend down, and kiss his cheek. “I needed to laugh. Thank you for that.”
—
By the time we arrive at Castle Saint-Lyons, I’m exhausted and Gen’s in session with Parliament, so I get to delay a debriefing with her and go straight to bed.
Only my reprieve doesn’t last very long because as soon as my eyes shut, I’m being awoken by a grumpy queen.
“Wake up, Char, you’ve been asleep for hours,” Gen says, shaking me a little. Now I know why my sister-in-law always said Gen and I have a knack for making a small amount of time sound like an eternity.
I peel my eyelids back and then rub away the grittiness. “What time is it?”
“Nearly dinner. I’m hungry and would rather not dine alone. Well, Devereaux will be there, but he’s as loquacious as a cactus.” She jumps up from the bed. “Although I would ask you to brush your teeth before we leave. Perhaps your hair as well.” She shakes her head and holds out her hand. “Come, I’ll do your hair.”
Reluctantly, I follow her to my vanity and sit down while she stands behind me. “Leave it down, please. My head hurts from wearing it up for too long.”
“Here’s a mint, darling.” She extends her arm, holding the candy so close that my eyes nearly cross.
I take the peppermint and pop it in my mouth. “How very considerate of you.”
“If you expect me to be anywhere near your gorgeous face, you cannot have the breath equivalent of a moose’s arse.”
I narrow my eyes at her, but then she starts to fuss over me, taking her time as she gently brushes my hair and chats about everything I’ve missed.
“Oh my word, Char. Why haven’t you interrupted me yet?” she all but shouts. “I’ve blathered on about every person around here. What they’re wearing. Who they’re sleeping with…you know, things that bore me to tears. You as well.”
“I don’t feel like chatting.”
Her mouth twists as she runs the brush through my hair one last time and then pulls back two large sections, fixing them in place with barrettes crusted with rubies and diamonds. “Why?”
“Because my heart is broken.”
Gen’s queenly, disinterested facade fades. “I will kill him myself.”
“We’ll have enough scandal without you being convicted of murder.”
She grips my shoulders. “What does he know?”
“I swear I didn’t say a thing—well, other than the bit about Beaumont being our biological father.”
Her blue-green eyes widen. “You what?”
“I didn’t mean to, but I didn’t have to say anything at all to him. He already knew.” Tears fill my eyes as I recall each piece of paper, each letter written in red ink, like tiny cuts on pictures of my family and me. “He had a file on us, with Beaumont’s confession and our birth certificates—the real ones. Not the forgeries.
“And that’s not the least of our problems, well, my problem.” My gaze drops to the floor. I can’t look her in the eye. She will be so disappointed in me. “There was one more reason Brooks wanted to marry me.”
“Oh no, Char,” Gen whispers. “Please don’t say you…”
“I might be pregnant.” I force my gaze to hers. “Please don’t lecture me and please don’t be mad. There might not be anything to worry about but right now…I just want my sister and not the queen to tell me that everything will work out.”
Gen closes her eyes and I know that her mind is spinning, that she’s calculating and deliberating the possibilities. Of the scandal of our parentage, of our birth…and a baby fathered by a man who did indeed hold my family in contempt.
Her eyes open. In them I don’t see accusation or condemnation. All I see is love. All I see is my sister. “I will take care of everything.”
I lean against her arm, my hand coming up to grip her wrist. Tears fall so fast that I can’t say anything at all. When she moves to stand between the vanity and me, I can’t control the fierce hug I give her or the sobs that wrack my soul.
Once I’m all cried out, Gen sends me back to bed and promptly orders up something from the kitchen. While we wait, she climbs into bed beside me and everything seems to rewind back to a time when we would share everything.
“Was he at least good to you while you were together?” she asks.
“He was bloody perfect in every way,” I say.
“A Prince Charming, huh?”
“Oh no. More like a villain. I’ve always wondered how they got there, what drove them to want to be that way?” I twist my hair around my finger. “I can’t imagine that they were born to be villains.” Plus, Brooks’s family was lovely. Normal.
“You were always the strange twin,” she says, making me laugh.
“Honestly, I thought he would have targeted you instead of me, but then I remembered that I’m not only the strangest twin—I’m the weakest link of the Sinclair family.”
“You are not,” she disagrees.
“I’m the one who let the entire world know that Colin married Della with my stupid Instagram account.”
“Eesh. Can’t defend that one.”
I spare her a glance and she scrunches her nose at me. “Anyway, he said that he found me to be fascinating. That he wanted inside my head. Foolish me thought it was to get to know the real Charlotte instead of the princess.”
“That wasn’t foolish. That was a risk we take in life. Some are worth it. Some we have to learn from.”
“I know,” I say sadly. “But I thought that by taking a risk on the villain instead of the prince, I wouldn’t get burned again.”
“That’s the problem, love. They’re all wicked, including the princes.” She hops up from the bed when our food arrives and lets the maid in. While the pretty girl with red curls lays everything out for us, Gen rummages through my purse.
“What are looking for?” I ask.
“Your mobile. Ah-ha!” She holds it up triumphantly. “Now, this is for your own good.”
Her fingers fly over the screen and my stomach flips.
“What’s for my own good?”
“Deleting Mr. Walker from your contact list.”
“No,” I scramble out of bed, nearly running into the poor maid so I can snatch the phone from Gen’s hand. But it’s too late. There is nothing left of our conversations and his name is completely gone from my list. “How could you?”
“It was for the best,” Gen says. “Trust me. A man like Brooks knows where to find you, if he wants to apologize…or find out about other matters.” Her gaze darts to the maid, then back to me. “Delicate in nature.”
“Yes, you’re right.” My shoulders slump. “I can’t believe it’s over.”
“Was there something more to be said?”
“Perhaps I should have given him the chance to explain. I left in such a rush while he was out with his brothers that I barely had time to leave a note for him.”
“What did it say?”
My face heats. “Not very nice things.”
Gen waits until the maid curtsies and leaves before she speaks again. “Do tell.”
“I might have told him to go fuck his nonexistent feelings, which in retrospect made no sense, but it was the best I could come up with at the time.”
She blinks at me; then a smile pushes up the corners of her mouth. “Color me impressed.”
“Can we stay longer than usual here? I don’t want to return to the States for a while.” When my sister holds court, by royal decree I must be in attendance or have a very good excuse, like dying, in order not to be there. And if she leaves, then I must follow her as well.
Such is the life of a spare princess in the Sinclairs’ royal court.
“Why not? I can knock a few of the not-ever-going-to-happen off my list of suitors,” Gen says, lifting the lids off the plates of my favorite dishes. “Perhaps I’ll cancel my ball since I invited that arse. No reason to give him an excuse to show up at my court.”
“How about postponing your ball, until…well, until I know for sure and then I’ll help you host it,” I offer, even though the mere thought of being under all that scrutiny makes my skin itchy.
“I love it. You can stand against the wall, all night long, if you must, with Peter at your side. He’s very good at keeping people away…unless you want to meet them,” she says slyly. “I know. We can look at my list and find a husband for you, too. Won’t that be fun?”
Royal Affair Page 16