A Royal Shade of Blue (Modern Royals Series Book 1)

by Aven Ellis

  Christian puts his hands on my shoulders, his blue eyes growing intense as he stares down at me.

  “But you don’t have to do this,” Christian pleads. “You know how I feel about you changing to please her.”

  “I do, but showing your mother I can dress in her realm is important.”

  “I don’t care what she thinks or what she says,” Christian says, his voice taking on an irritated edge. “You need to do you.”

  “I’m still me. It’s just a dress. Please remember that.”

  “What if it’s not?”

  Now I’m getting edgy. “Do you trust me?”

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Do you?”

  “You know I do. I trust you more than I’ve trusted anyone in my life.”

  “Then trust me when I say this is a dress and nothing more.”

  I still can’t figure out Christian’s issue with clothing and why he thinks it’s significant. Someday I’ll bring it up with him to try and get to the root of this irrational fear, but now is not the time to have that conversation.

  “I do trust you,” Christian repeats, dropping a kiss on my mouth. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too,” I say. “Now come on, let’s go.”

  We head over to Buckingham Palace in Christian’s Audi with his security detail following behind. It’s a quick ten-minute drive, and soon we are whisked through the gates and led inside. My sick feeling grows stronger as I remember the last time I was here.

  We head up in the elevator to the private apartments. Christian leads me to King Arthur’s sitting room, which is the opposite of Queen Antonia’s. It has a country English vibe, with pictures of horses and dogs and tartan plaid sofas—plump, oversized ones that look perfect for sinking into and having a long conversation.

  The family is standing around having cocktails, and as soon as we enter, Princess Helene makes her way over to me.

  “I’ve been dying to meet you,” Princess Helene declares, her eyes twinkling. “I’m Helene. I like a dirty joke and a dirty martini, and if you have any dirty men hanging around to enjoy them with, all the better.”

  Then she winks at me.

  Despite my state of anxiety, I burst out laughing.

  “That is the best introduction I’ve ever heard. I’m Clementine. I like hot chocolate, I’m terrible at anagrams, and I love this golden-haired man right here.”

  I glance at Christian, who smiles at me.

  “Would you like a gin and tonic, sweetheart?” he asks.

  “Yes, thank you.”

  “I’ll be right back,” he says.

  I watch as he cuts across the room to the bar, where he’s greeted by King Arthur. I see genuine happiness on King Arthur’s face as he talks to Christian, which warms my heart. Christian does have a tremendous father who loves him as he deserves to be loved—for being Christian, his son.

  “Christian has grown up since the last time I saw him,” Princess Helene says, interrupting my thoughts.

  I turn toward her, intrigued. “How so?”

  “This past Christmas, at Sandringham,” Princess Helene says, pausing to take a sip of her martini, “he loathed being out in public. The walk to the church was always painful for him. Christian hated being watched. He hated having to talk to people. I think those moments reminded him of the unavoidable road that was to come. Cambridge would end, and since my nephew threw down the gauntlet and said no military service yet, there would be nowhere to hide. Christian knew this is what his life would be, and it terrified him. The poor boy was lost.”

  She takes another drink and continues. “Then Easter rolls around—you know us old folks, we only get to see the younger generation at forced gatherings—he was smiling, talking, and not so much inside his head as he used to be. Christian told me all about this girl he had met. He said you had energy and passion and overcame a lot to be where you are now. He showed me pictures of you doing T-rex arms together and ones of you making faces at him on the punt on the River Cam. Christian seemed excited to start the next part of his life, with you, something I’ve never seen before. Christian said you helped him realize he could use his position for things that mattered to him, and he was ready to take that on. In that conversation, I knew you had turned my great nephew from a boy into a man.”

  “Christian did all that on his own,” I say proudly. “I only helped him see it.”

  “That is what a good partner will do: help the other grow and become a better person. And you are the woman who reached him, my dear.”

  Christian reappears and hands me a gin and tonic.

  “What are you two talking about over here? You look like you are up to no good,” Christian teases.

  “I was telling Clementine she must sit with me at dinner,” Princess Helene says. “It’s nice to have someone outside the company business come through these boring, gilded doors.”

  “Aunt Helene, I’m offended you think I’m boring,” Liz says, walking up and giving her great aunt a kiss on the cheek.

  “You’re not boring, but you are never here. I’m stuck with this lot, and they are dreadfully dull. Not a good sex joke between all of them strung together. Well, unless Xander is here. Now that boy has good dirty jokes and then some.”

  I need to introduce Princess Helene to Jillian, I think, grinning. They would get on famously.

  “Well, I will be around a lot more now,” Liz says. “I’m officially done with university and am a working royal.”

  I’ve asked Liz why she is choosing this path when, unlike Christian, she can go off and pursue a career of her choosing. Liz is passionate about education and children’s programs, and she feels she has more power to make change by working as a royal than by entering the field. She is called to continuing the legacy of the monarchy, and I admire her for that.

  “Well, for that, I’m glad,” Princess Helene says, patting her cheek. “God, was that an old lady move or what?”

  “I’ll forgive you for it if you promise to never do it again,” Liz teases.

  James comes up and affectionately puts his arm around my shoulders. “So, we haven’t scared you off yet?” he teases.

  I laugh. “Nope, you are stuck with me.”

  I see Queen Antonia, who is talking with Arabella and Prince Henry, and her cold eyes are locked on me.

  “It’s more like you are stuck with us,” James jokes.

  “Isn’t that the truth?” Christian asks.

  Another royal household employee—this time a steward, I believe, as I’m trying to memorize stripes on uniforms—approaches King Arthur, who nods in response. The steward retreats and King Arthur clears his throat.

  “Let’s make our way to the dining room,” King Arthur says.

  Dinner will be served in the Chinese Dining Room. I’ve seen pictures online of its elaborate flower-shaped chinoiserie chandelier, and I can’t wait to see it in person.

  Christian’s hand finds the small of my back as we enter, and I try to hold back a gasp when I see the history before me. There are two chinoiserie panels adorning the walls—commissioned by George the Fourth—porcelain vases, and a Kylin clock on the mantle. I need to ask Christian if I can come back and study everything with the palace curator. It’s still hard believe that Queen Victoria herself sat in this room.

  Queen Victoria.

  Even after a month of living in this world, I can’t wrap my head around it.

  The table is once again set to perfection, with candelabras and floral arrangements. Christian guides me to a seat in the middle because, since it’s a family dinner, we can sit wherever we like. Christian pulls out my chair for me and another for Princess Helene on my left.

  King Arthur sits at one end of the table, and Queen Antonia sits at the other end. Next to her is the Dowager Queen, who is never far from her side at any occasion. Servers approach the table with champagne, and King Arthur speaks as the bubbly is poured.

  “I’d like to thank you all for co
ming tonight to celebrate Christian’s first solo trip abroad,” King Arthur says, smiling at his son. “You have grown tremendously in the last few months, and I couldn’t be prouder of all the ways you are engaging in your new role.”

  Christian blushes. “It’s my duty, Father. I realize now how important it is not only to do it but to be genuine in my efforts. That clarity came from the woman here by my side,” he says, shifting his attention to me.

  “I can see that,” King Arthur says, his gaze regarding me with genuine affection.

  “A toast,” Queen Antonia says, picking up her champagne flute. “To Christian and the future of the monarchy. With you, my son, it looks very bright indeed.”

  We all clink glasses and take a sip.

  “I’ve always loved New Zealand,” Prince Henry says. “Such a beautiful spot in the world.”

  “I’m surprised you didn’t say Sydney,” Arabella says flatly.

  Prince Henry shoots her a look. “Why would I, darling?”

  What is even happening here? I feel like we’ve been dropped into the middle of a private conversation. I glance at Liz, whose face is flushed with embarrassment. She quickly stares down at the table, looking like she wishes she could be anywhere but here.

  As if the staff senses the tension, they begin appearing with the first course. A plate is placed in front of me, and I nearly weep with relief that it’s not a fish course but a mushroom tart. I glance at Christian’s plate, which has a white fish in a sauce. Princess Helene has fish, too, so obviously Christian alerted the chefs that I don’t eat fish.

  I love him.

  “I take it you don’t like fish,” James says, picking up his fork.

  “No, I don’t,” I admit.

  “She doesn’t care for tea, either,” Christian offers, outing me. Then he places his hand on my knee and gives it an affectionate squeeze.

  “What? You don’t like tea?” Princess Helene asks.

  I laugh. “I know, yet they still approved my work visa,” I joke.

  “Interesting,” Queen Antonia says from her end of the table. “Because when we had tea two weeks ago, you not only had tea but proclaimed you took it with lemon. You also selected a salmon finger sandwich, which my lady-in-waiting can attest to. So, is your dislike a sudden development, Clementine?”

  Oh, my God.

  My stomach drops out.

  Queen Antonia has openly declared war.

  My heart is roaring in my ears. I can’t speak. I know my entire world is about to be blown apart, and I can’t stop it.

  The table falls silent, and all eyes are on me.

  “What?” Christian asks, his eyes questioning me. “What is she talking about, Clem?”

  “Oh, she didn’t tell you? I invited her for tea while you were in Australia,” Queen Antonia says, pausing to savor a bite of her fish. “I’m surprised she kept that a secret from you, along with her love of tea.”

  “Clementine wouldn’t lie to me,” Christian says, his voice taking on an angry edge. “But you would.”

  “Christian,” I plead.

  “Antonia, stop,” King Arthur demands, his voice like ice.

  “I’m sick and tired of all these damn games this family plays. I will not stand for you trying to manipulate me,” Christian snaps.

  “I’m not the one manipulating you, my precious son,” Queen Antonia says. “Your so-called love is. She did come to tea, and she pretended to enjoy it while doing everything else she could to appease me. Look at her dress tonight; she thinks she can be one of us.”

  “You told me to keep the tea a secret,” I shout across the table, losing my temper.

  A collective gasp goes up.

  Christian removes his hand from my knee, his eyes now desperate for me to say something different. “You … it’s true?”

  I want to die when I see the look of anguish on his face.

  “She asked me to keep it a secret,” I say, my voice breaking.

  Christian is reeling. I move to touch his hand under the table, but he jerks it away.

  “I did no such thing,” Queen Antonia lies. “Clementine made the decision to lie to you, Christian, not me, just like she made the decision to pretend to like tea, just like she made the decision to dress like me tonight. Apparently, she does want to be a part of this monarchy, even if it means deceiving you, or changing to please us.”

  King Arthur smashes his fist on the table, sending the plates and cutlery rattling.

  “You will stop this instant,” he bellows at Queen Antonia. “I have had more than enough of your underhanded games, and it shall cease now.”

  “Why should she stop?” the Dowager Queen pipes up. “Clementine lied to Christian.”

  “Oh, sod off, you old bag,” Princess Helene snaps. “Everyone here knows Queen Antonia is jealous of Clementine. She’s young, beautiful, and adored for being a genuine breath of fresh air.”

  “How dare you speak to me like that!” the Dowager Queen cries at her sister-in-law, looking aghast.

  “I am not jealous of her,” Queen Antonia cries, her composure breaking.

  “Look at the way we are acting. This is ridiculous,” James says.

  “It’s embarrassing!” Liz says, pushing her plate away in disgust. “I am so sorry, Clementine. We all are.”

  “I will not apologize to a woman who lied to my son,” Queen Antonia declares icily.

  “Christian,” I say, putting my hand on his arm. “Please, this isn’t the whole story. We need to talk.”

  He jerks his arm away and stands up. Christian tosses the napkin angrily on top of his plate and storms out without saying a word.

  I leap up from my seat, running behind him. “Christian, wait!”

  Christian is walking in long, angry strides down the corridor. I’m trying to run in heels and this damn column dress, and I can’t keep up. He’s going to be out of my sight soon if I don’t stop him, so I yell out the truth.

  “I didn’t tell you to protect you!” I cry.

  Christian whips around. “What?”

  I run until I’m standing in front of him.

  “I didn’t tell you because it would hurt you,” I say, gasping for breath. “Your mother said awful things to me, Christian. She threatened me. I didn’t want you to hear that about your mother, so I kept our tea a secret, but not to deceive you. I wanted to protect you.”

  “Protect me?” Christian roars. “How dare you decide what I get to know based on what you feel I need to be shielded from. You, of all people. You, the one who screams you’re being stifled if I try to do any damn thing to help you!”

  Anger rises within me. “That’s different.”

  “How? How is it different, Clementine?”

  “I have been suffocated my entire life by people wanting to protect me,” I snap, my voice shaking.

  “Not every single person who wants to protect you or help you is trying to suffocate you! You are so scarred by what your family did you can’t see the difference!”

  He’s made a direct hit on my battleship. I feel like I’m sinking now.

  “How ironic, when I protect you, it’s telling the truth via a statement,” Christian continues. “When you protect me, you lie.”

  “I didn’t tell you, because your mother told me to leave you,” I cry. “She said I wasn’t good enough for you. I didn’t have the mystique and elegance the role demands, and I would ruin the monarchy. So, I sat there, and yes, I accepted tea and a salmon sandwich and wore hose because I was trying to make an inroad with her, which I was very, very, wrong about. She didn’t invite me there to get to know me. She invited me to tea to make me go away.”

  “You’ve changed,” Christian says, taking a step back from me as if he’s revolted.

  “Did you hear what I said? Your mother wanted me gone, Christian!”

  “You pretended to be something you weren’t,” Christian says as if that’s more of a problem than what his mother did.

  “You are focusing on the
wrong thing,” I say angrily. “Your mother tried to get me to leave you.”

  “I heard you!” Christian roars. “My mother is an awful person who doesn’t love me. I hear you loud and clear.”

  I wince. “I’m not—”

  “I expect that from her, what she pulled,” Christian continues. “But I didn’t expect you to lie to me, to go over there and be something that you are not.”

  “Don’t you see I am me?” I cry, exasperated. “I was trying to be proper. I’m the same damn person, and a cup of tea won’t change that.”

  “Bollocks! Everything starts to change. You started lying. You’re going to be lost to them. It’s already happening!” He begins to pace, tearing at his hair as if he wishes he could pull it out.

  “No! I love you. I put up with your mother ripping me to shreds because of you. I know you love her. She’s your mother. Do you think I wanted to tell you all these things? Do you think I wanted this to get back to Xander? To James?” I cry, thinking of how fragile James is in particular. “It would devastate you. She asked me to keep the meeting private, and I did.”

  He pauses. I know I’ve reached him with those words, but within a second the angry expression returns.

  “So, the woman who is scarred by her parents protecting her without her consent turns around and does it to the man she says she loves?”

  “That’s not fair,” I say, my voice trembling.

  “It the same thing, except you won’t acknowledge it.”

  He’s scored another hit, but I can’t process that now, not when everything is spiraling out of control.

  “I did what your mother asked because I didn’t want to hurt you.”

  “Your parents never wanted to hurt you either.”

  His words feel like a slap. I want to fall to the floor, but I refuse to do so in front of him.

  “Your biggest fear was losing me to them,” I say, the tears I’ve desperately tried to hold back brimming over. “But you didn’t lose me to them. If I wear a damn dress for a Buckingham Palace occasion, I’m not lost to them. It’s dressing for business, no different than you putting on polo gear for a match. Why is clothing so significant to you? Why?”