“That sounds good, but let me change first.”
“I’ll be in the kitchen.”
For a minute or two, I linger in the dining room, staring at the presents that Colin bought me. All of my favorite things.
I sigh thickly.
It’s hard to stay mad at such a sincerely charming man.
But thanks to my conversation with Lola, I can’t shake the feeling that he is hiding something pretty big from me.
Chapter 3
Colin
I arrive at the Strangers’ Dining Room well before nine. It’s a rather grand room with carved wainscoting, red carpeting, and an intricate ceiling. Eight-paned windows on the east side of the room frame a spectacular view of the Thames.
It’s actually one of my favorite places—one that I remember coming to as a child with my parents. I would stare at the river for hours, watching marine vessels as they traveled up and down the waterway.
However, I am not the first to arrive, so I don’t have that luxury.
At one of the six round tables in the room, four members of Parliament and one prime minister sit. Three security guards stand close by. Out of sixty possible seats at ten tables, only five are taken.
Five against one. Two if I count Beaumont.
I suppose I should be nervous, but I was born for this sort of thing.
“Colin!”
I turn, finding one of the twins striding toward me. Thankfully in our family, my sisters are fraternal twins and relatively easy to tell apart. I can only imagine what trouble they would have gotten up to had that not been the case.
“Charlotte”—I say her name with a smile—“what are you doing here?”
She smiles slightly in return. “To lend you my support, of course.”
I look over her head to see if anyone else is with her.
“Imogen is not here. Neither is Theo.”
“It’s not that.”
Charlotte cocks her head to one side, her hazel eyes assessing. “I know you’re disappointed that the meek sister is here, but in these cases, a bit of delicacy is required.”
“I could never be disappointed in you.” I press a kiss to the top of her head. It’s the truth. While Theo and Imogen do their damnedest to flaunt how much they don’t care they’ve been exiled by putting themselves in situations that wouldn’t look very good for the average citizen, much less a royal one, sweet Charlotte follows the rules.
Always.
“Then I’ll join you in the lion’s den,” she says, sweeping by me.
While Charlotte may be a stickler for the rules, she is still a Sinclair, after all. I hide a smile and follow after her, since I am lower ranked.
Prime Minister Davies stands, fastening his suit coat as he does. The other members of Parliament, men and women who I do not recognize, stand as well. They look at us with wary eyes, as if they were expecting our parents instead.
“Your Highnesses.” Davies bows to my sister, then to me, and indicates we should sit. “Thank you for joining us today.”
Charlotte and I glance at each other, but neither of us shows what we truly think. We don’t ever have a choice, not if we want to return home someday.
“Prime Minister, we are anxious to come to an agreement—”
“Not now. Let us eat first.”
I clench my jaw, forcing down the words that I want to unleash on this arsehole.
“Given the amount of taxes paid by the citizens of the Isle, they deserve politicians who can multitask,” Charlotte says sweetly.
“Wouldn’t you agree, Prime Minister?” she asks a beat later.
I bite back a laugh while Davies and the members of Parliament appear stupefied. However, I am not surprised in the least. Charlotte has a keen mind for diplomacy…and getting her way.
“Naturally,” he replies.
“Mr. Davies, our family is prepared to listen with open minds to Parliament’s terms for recalling our exile,” I say right after plates piled with a traditional English breakfast are placed in front of us. “We miss our home.”
Davies picks up his cup of tea, taking a long sip—too long—before he speaks. “We are not opposed to the Sinclairs coming home. It’s quite the opposite actually. Parliament is most anxious to see order returned to one of the oldest continuing lines of royal houses. The people are anxious for a return to traditional ways. Our children are learning Manx Gaelic. We have opportunities to secure contracts that will bring in economic prosperity. Sinclair Enterprises has the means to make that happen. However, without the factory reopened by a Sinclair, none of that can happen.”
There is a but coming. I can see it from a mile away.
“But no one is anxious to return to the government rule that led to the murder of your parents and your exile. Therefore, we propose that a new order be put in place to break away from a tradition that nearly bankrupted the country.”
“And that would be?”
“You will marry a woman of our choosing. Since you are single, that portion of the proposal shouldn’t be too difficult. Prince Colin, with all due respect to your departed parents, you have proven yourself to be their polar opposite. That speaks volumes.”
Marry a stranger of their choosing—not bloody happening. I don’t give a damn how many compliments they attempt to give me. “And then what?”
“Parliament crowns you as king.”
Charlotte’s fork hits the table with a clatter.
My mouth parts slightly. “Are you mad? The Isle has always been ruled by a queen who answers to Parliament and the people,” I all but shout. “To deviate from that would require a constitutional amendment.”
Davies’s smile is smug. “We have the votes.”
“It would also require Imogen’s signature,” Charlotte says quietly.
I slice my gaze to her. She’s regained her composure, but there is a tightness to her jaw.
Prime Minister Davies frowns. “I suggest you encourage her to sign.”
“And if she refuses?” I ask.
Davies’s gaze fixes on me. “Your family remains in exile and we look elsewhere.”
“Did you consider that I have no interest in becoming king?” My grip tightens on my glass. “My entire life has been dedicated to protecting the queen, not usurping her.”
“Your family’s entire history has been one of power-hungry egomaniacs who have not a care for the citizens that support them.”
What he says is true, but not completely. “You cannot contend nor can you maintain that the citizens have ever supported the monarchy. We are independently wealthy and pay taxes like every citizen. Furthermore, we are not our parents, nor their parents before them. I think we both can agree that a carelessness in rule did not come before Queen Amelia or Queen Eleanora.”
Davies’s mouth thins. “Be that as it may, we had a revolution, and if you want to be part of the future, those are our terms.”
Take it or shove it up your arse hangs in the air—unspoken yet very much real.
“If I refuse, will the offer be extended to Theo or my—the boys?”
“Prince Theo is no more suited to rule than a fish is to sing.” Davies smirks as he delivers the ancient insult. “As for the young princelings…illegitimate offspring have no claim to the throne.”
My hand fists in my lap. “We shall consider your terms. Thank you so much, Prime Minister, and please give our best wishes to the rest of Parliament.”
Charlotte rises to her feet and everyone scrambles to show her proper respect, chairs toppling over in their haste. While the new world order wants a different ruler, there are some things that never change.
I stand with Charlotte. Beaumont pulls back her chair and I offer my elbow. She takes it and we leave the room, striding down hallways with tourists queuing for group tours of the House of Commons.
“What in the hell are they thinking?” I mutter as we step outside. The bleak morning matches our mood.
“To insult and humiliate us,” my sister
replies.
“The car is right this way.”
Security flanks us on all sides as we continue to walk. Charlotte gets inside the waiting limo and then I follow. As soon as we are secured, it pulls into traffic.
She stares at me, her hazel eyes wide and her cheeks flushed pink. She pushes a dark strand of hair back. “They are quite serious.”
“I’m not keen on marrying a stranger, but most of all I don’t want to be king.”
“I know you don’t. That was never my concern.” She pats my hand and then leans against me. “What are we going to do?”
“We have to decide if I am to be the sacrificial lamb, if it’s worth it to return home, or if there is another alternative.” I stare out the window. Rain begins to fall and even darker clouds move in.
“The only alternative is to marry someone of your choice and take yourself out of the running. Surely, they wouldn’t expect a married man to divorce his wife?” I can hear the smile in Charlotte’s voice as she says this. “Even Davies wouldn’t go that far and given the history of our parents…to start a new era with a man like that…I can only imagine the backlash.”
“You are brilliant, Char. You know that, don’t you?”
“There are times I shock myself,” she jokes.
I exhale, then tug on an earlobe. “All I have to do is find a suitable woman to marry. Someone who will agree to a marriage of convenience, keep our secrets, will accept my boys…damn, I want a woman who doesn’t exist.”
“Are you so sure about that?” my sister asks.
Della. My best friend. The woman of my dreams. Forever off-limits…until now. Except I cannot expect a real marriage with her. I can’t expect for nothing to change between us once I reveal who we are.
Who I am.
She won’t look at me the same way anymore, won’t tell me off, or tease me. A wall will be erected between us, practically overnight.
Can I risk that?…Do I have a choice?
“You don’t have tell her, you know.” Charlotte sits up. “You can tell her that you’ve finally come to your senses and want her to be the official mother to our boys, like she’s been all these years.”
“Your mind is positively terrifying.”
She grins cheekily. “Thank you.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Then admit you’re in love with her.”
I want to argue with her, but I know it won’t sway her opinion. “This conversation is over.” I rub my temples. “We have to speak with Theo and Imogen before any decisions are made.”
“Why do you suppose Parliament hates us so much? We’re not our parents.” Sadness glimmers in her pretty eyes. “Theo and Imogen’s antics notwithstanding, none of us have gotten up to anything remotely scandalous.”
I disagree. “Theo isn’t exactly known for his discretion and Imogen…she’s hell-bent on making a spectacle of herself. Or is your joint Vegas birthday party forgotten?” Imogen had stripped to her birthday suit and attempted to dance on the bar until her bodyguard had to physically remove her.
“We all do stupid things when we’re young.”
“It was last year and you stayed in your hotel room.”
“Twenty-one is a very special birthday and I was feeling poorly,” Charlotte retorts, ever the defender of her twin. “Besides, Theo says they can pretend we don’t exist, but that doesn’t mean we have to pretend we don’t exist as well.”
I have nothing to counter with. My brother is right and, most of all, I’m tired of simply existing.
—
Later that day, as soon as I step foot in my private suite, I’m greeted by my siblings. Theo stands by the fireplace, one arm propped against the mantle, while Charlotte sits on the sofa in the living room, her face grim. Imogen sits in a highback chair, the expression on her face a twin of her sister’s.
“Where are the boys?” I ask.
“With Della and Tressie,” Theo replies, and I make a mental note to call their house as soon we’re done discussing Parliament’s requirements. “I told them that we had an international family emergency. We’ve been brought up to speed by Char, but there are more important matters to attend to.”
“I can’t imagine what would be more important than to return home.”
“We’ve been outed to the public,” Theo says, handing over his iPad and looking the exact opposite of grim. “Some rubbish journalist from Walker Media published a story on us. It’s only a matter of time before the US entertainment media picks up on it—they’re chomping at the bit for a good scandal. Hollywood has become quite dull. They have kept Pierce and Aiden’s names out of the column.”
I scan the screen, the lead headlines jumping out at me.
ROYALS IN EXILE.
PARENTS ASSASSINATED.
“How benevolent of them,” I growl, my jaw working. “Who is this Brooks Walker?”
“The owner,” Charlotte replies. “He reports on the political elite of the world as well as those who strive to bury the truth. His father is a former US senator.”
“Sounds like he’s watched an X-Files episode one too many times,” Imogen says.
“I don’t know…shouldn’t journalists report the truth?” Charlotte asks.
Imogen glares at her. “Why are you defending him?”
Charlotte scowls. “I’m not, Your Majesty.”
Imogen scowls back. “Do not pull that with me. You had the opportunity to—” Abruptly she stops talking and crosses her arms over her chest. Her blue-green eyes are full of fury and her cheeks are red.
“This is the most brilliant news to ever be reported about us,” Theo declares. “Honestly, I can do so much more, give so much back now that I can use my title properly.”
I doubt that my brother has charitable works in mind. “Ladies and gent, can we please focus on the matter at hand?” I ask.
“Fine.”
“Go on.”
I give Imogen a withering smile. “Thank you.”
She rolls her eyes. Not very queen-like, but she’s twenty-two and pissed off at the world. I should be glad she doesn’t attempt to imprison me for being impertinent. Or for all the times I grounded her.
“I’m getting married.
“To Della, if she’ll have me,” I add when there is no response. “She’s the perfect candidate. She’s unsuitable, American, and with me out of the running, Davies and his cronies will be forced to acknowledge Imogen’s rightful place.”
Imogen shakes her head, caramel-colored strands infused with a brilliant pink. “I don’t like it.”
“I’m doing this for you.”
“I didn’t ask you to.”
I force myself to remain calm. “You didn’t have to ask or command me to do the right thing. Besides, Della is our friend, practically family. She loves the boys, and we all know and adore her.”
Charlotte snorts delicately.
Theo raises a brow, then mouths, “I am so getting laid tonight.”
Imogen stares at the opposite wall.
Good God. It’s a replay of their teens.
“It makes perfect sense,” I insist.
“Thank you,” Imogen finally says. She swings her gaze to me. “I mean it and not because I want to be queen, either, but because you’ve put the good of our family before power and duty.”
“We are not our parents,” Charlotte says for the second time that day.
“Thank God for that,” Theo says.
I rub my hands together. “Brilliant. Now all I have to do is get to Della before the news does.”
Chapter 4
Della
It’s Friday afternoon and I’m in the middle of cooking supper while Lola sits at the island in the middle of the kitchen. She’s not there to eat, though. She’s there to lecture me up one side and down the other for attempting to cancel our couples’ date.
“I can’t believe you’re watching his kids so he can bang some chick all over Europe,” she says, grabbing a celery stick from the veg
gie tray that I’d made for the boys to snack on.
“His kids are in the living room,” I all but hiss.
She winces. “Sorry.”
“And I’m not watching them so he can bang anyone. Theo asked me—”
“Oh, that makes it so much better.” She rolls her eyes.
I stick a hand into the sink of soapy water and flick some in her direction. “Hush your mouth.”
Lola pushes back her hair and shakes her head so that the strands fall perfectly around her shoulders. “What does Theo plan to do for you in return?” She wriggles her eyebrows suggestively. “One brother is just as good as the other when it comes to breaking your dry spell.”
I go back to searing the chicken in the pan. “They are not interchangeable.”
“Maybe not to you.”
“Then you go after Theo.” Crap. I should have included Colin, but it would have been a lie.
“Already hit that and while it was good, I’m the marrying kind and he isn’t.”
I glance over my shoulder at her, my eyes widening. “You’ve fallen for a guy.”
She smiles. “Maybe I have.”
“Guy from the bar?”
“No.” A guilty look covers her face. “I canceled on him.”
“Are you serious?” I flip over the chicken breasts and add more salt and pepper. “After all the crap you gave me?”
“I know. I know.”
Turning down the burner, I whirl around and march up to the island. “I want details as to who this man is. He has to be pretty darn special for you to cancel our plans.”
Lola blushes. “Cary called me to ask if we could grab a cup of coffee.”
“What did your ex-boyfriend have to say?” I don’t dislike Cary, but I don’t exactly have a lot of love for the guy who broke Lola’s heart.
“That he made a mistake, that he’s truly sorry, and he wants me to consider giving him a chance. A permanent chance.”
My mouth drops open. “Wow. Cary never apologizes.”
She toys with a ripe tomato. “I know. He seemed really sincere. Do you think it’s a good idea?”
“I think people deserve second chances. He didn’t cheat on you, didn’t—”
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