by Avery Wilde
Fortunately, it was now late enough in the day that the house was operating on its skeleton overnight staff. Most of the maids, footmen, grooms, under-butlers and so on had either retired to their rooms in the house’s upper floors, and those who lived off-site had headed home for the night. It was therefore quiet when I sneaked in, trying not to look too sneaky since Perkins was still watching. I didn’t venture into the servants’ corridors often, but as a child I’d spent a great deal of time down here, playing hide and seek with Michael and our cousins. It was a great place to play hide and seek. The memories flooded back now as I sought to get my bearings. I missed those days; things had been so much simpler then. Royal or not, a child is a child, and all that mattered back then was having fun. Perhaps I’d tried to cling to that credo too long into adulthood. My determination to have fun hadn’t changed, while my definition of ‘fun’ had changed radically—if all I wanted to do was play hide and seek, then my behavior would probably not represent such a problem, and I wouldn’t be plastered all over the gossip columns every five seconds.
Once I’d worked out where I was and which doors were which, I proceeded along the corridor. I wasn’t sure if Keira lived in or out—her early morning start argued live-in, but the fact that she was new staff suggested out—and either way she would be hard to find. She might have already gone home if she lived out, and if she lived in then she was most likely up in her room, and there was no chance of me seeing her there without being seen by a score of others. In fact, now that I stopped to think about it, I had to admit that the chances of finding her down here were extremely slim, and this had been a pretty dumb idea.
I seemed to be having a lot of pretty dumb ideas since meeting Keira…another symptom of the ‘feelings’ no doubt.
But just as I was about to give up and leave this quest for another day, a noise caught my attention. It was the sound of someone crying.
I might be single-minded and selfish, but when I heard someone crying, my instinct was to comfort. I followed the sound to a door which stood ajar at the far end of the corridor. Gently, I pressed it open, unsure as to how I should announce my presence.
Given that I’d decided to do what I could to help, regardless of who the afflicted party turned out to be, I felt for a moment that I was being rewarded as I saw that the crying sound was issuing from the same woman who’d occupied my thoughts for the better part of the day. I was so pleased to see Keira that, without realizing that I was doing it, I found myself smiling, an expression that was clearly inappropriate to the situation. Keira sat on a sofa in the day staff changing room, head in hands, gently sobbing. She was half dressed, as if she had begun to get changed and then not had the energy to continue as she was overtaken by grief.
I had no idea how many women I’d been with, and yet I felt as if I’d never witnessed such an intimate moment before. It was a raw scene—the sort of thing that no one would knowingly share—and I realized that the longer I eavesdropped upon it, the less thoughtful and the more creepy my presence became. Just loud enough to be heard but hopefully not loud enough to startle, I cleared my throat.
Keira jumped a little and turned, her tear-reddened eyes wide.
“Oh,” she said, a small and desperately pathetic sound. She gathered her clothes about her, making sure she was decent if not presentable. “I’m sorry, your Highness, I didn’t hear you…”
I held up my hands, dismissing her apologies. “Don’t worry, don’t worry. What’s wrong? Can I help?”
Keira shook her head, swallowing back tears and forcing a false smile. “No. But thank you for asking.”
I edged further into the room, not wanting her to feel trapped or pressured but not willing to leave her when she was so clearly upset.
“You can tell me—what’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I’m fine. Every girl needs a good cry from time to time. That’s why we watch weepy movies. It’s how we roll.”
I looked around the room. “Are you watching a weepy movie? Because it doesn’t seem like it. And people don’t cry for no reason.”
“I’m sure they do.”
“They don’t.”
“Then I guess I must be the exception.”
I sat down beside Keira, careful to leave a respectful distance between us. “Look…” I stopped to select my words. “I’m an ass. In so many ways. And a prick. And I think you said ‘bastard’ yesterday—that too. And a whole bunch of other words. But I’m also here. And for all that I may be an ass…”
“And a prick.”
“And a bastard, yes. I care.”
Keira met my gaze, her eyes still damp and her light makeup streaked. “Care about what?”
“Believe it or not, I care about all kinds of things. But right now I care most about you. And I can understand why that would be hard to believe given the way I’ve behaved, and if I’m honest I can’t really explain it because we hardly know each other. But there it is. I do care about you, and if something’s wrong then I’d like to help if I can.”
It seemed that she was searching my face for some sign of insincerity, trying to gauge if I was genuine or if this was just a line I used. I tried to look honest, which wasn’t easy as I considered that I’d been born with a thoroughly untrustworthy face. But it seemed to satisfy Keira, to a point at least.
“I just haven’t had a great day, that’s all.”
“I did try to be better behaved this morning,” I said.
Keira rolled her eyes. “Number one: having enough self-control to not parade your penis around shouldn’t be an effort, that should be a given. Number two: not everything is about you.”
I grinned at that. “Sorry.”
“Although I suppose this is a little about you,” she admitted.
“Oh, good,” I replied. “I mean…not ‘good’ per se. But if it’s about me then maybe I can fix it.”
Keira looked at me with an expression that was tough to read. “There’s a quality to you that’s either naivety or idiocy. I can’t tell which. It’s irritating but occasionally quite sweet.”
“That’s my jam.”
Keira laughed and shook her head. “Members of the British royal family really shouldn’t say ‘that’s my jam’.”
I nodded. “Word.”
“Or that.”
“I know, I was just trying to make you laugh again.”
Keira smiled. “I appreciate it.”
“So you were telling me how this was partially my fault.”
She sighed. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me.”
Keira shook her head again, retreating back within herself. “No, I really don’t want to complain. I brought it all on myself, really.”
“I doubt that’s true, but I have an idea,” I said. “How about we talk about some other things for a while, and maybe then you’ll feel comfortable enough to tell me? And I’ll start by telling you the dumbest thing I ever did. How does that sound?”
I saw a hint of a smile turn her lips up. “I guess we could try that.”
“Okay, good. But you have to promise you won’t go to the tabloids about this particular scandal. Let’s just say I’d be very embarrassed if the story ever went public.”
“So I should turn off the recording device in my pocket, and all the secret cameras I’ve got on you right now?”
I smiled, glad to see she was already feeling comfortable enough to at least make silly jokes, just like she had on the first night we met. “Very funny. Anyway, when I was about nine, I developed a crush on one of the maids. This was when we were staying at Wellington Castle for a while.”
Keira’s eyes sparkled with humor. “Why did I know this would be about a woman?”
“Shh. I’m not finished,” I said with another grin. “She was one of the live-in staff members, and one day I followed her around and figured out which room was hers.”
“Oh no…”
“And I remembered seeing some movie where the main male charac
ter stole his crush’s underwear. I can’t remember why, but I thought ‘oh yes, that seems like a great idea,’ and I managed to get into her room—can’t even remember how—and I stole a rather slinky silk camisole and a pair of knickers from her dresser.”
“Well, that’s creepy, but not that bad,” Keira said. “You were only nine.”
“That’s not the end of the story, regrettably.”
“Oh, god…well, go on, then,” she said, settling back on the sofa and looking far more relaxed now. “I feel like I need a box of popcorn while I listen to this saga.”
“Okay, so after I stole the things, I decided that the only thing to do with my stolen goods was to hide them somewhere on the grounds so no one would find it in my room. So I ran out onto the grounds and headed beyond the stables and over to the grove of trees that’s nearby. I don’t know why, I suppose I was going to hide them in a hole in a tree or something. But it suddenly started bucketing down, as it tends to do in England, and I thought, ‘I don’t want her lovely silk cami and knickers to get all wet and ruined. What was I thinking, bringing them out here?’ So I stripped down and put them on underneath my clothes to protect them from the rain. She was a very small woman, probably about four foot ten and maybe ninety pounds, so they actually weren’t too loose on me despite my age.”
Keira nodded. “Uh-huh.”
“I figured I’d return to the castle and find somewhere else to stash them. But it was really pissing down with rain now, and by the time I got inside, my mother and some of the staff were deeply concerned that I might catch pneumonia or something, so they insisted on immediately taking off my clothes so I could dry off and get into dry, warmer clothes.”
“Oh no...”
“Of course I pitched a fit, saying they couldn’t undress me, but my mother insisted, and as soon as my clothes came off…there it was. A pink silk camisole under my clothes, with a matching thong worn over my boxers. And the maid who it belonged to? She was right there. She saw everything.”
She clapped a hand to her mouth. “No…really?”
I nodded, still grinning. “Pretty stupid of me, huh?”
“Yeah, although knowing you, I was actually expecting something much worse.”
“You flatter me too much,” I said, playfully jostling her. “Anyway, enough about me. The other day, you mentioned that this is a gap year for you? Tell me more about that.”
She nodded. “I wanted to see some of the art in Europe, and I figured this is a good way of doing it. There really are a lot of amazing museums here.”
“Yes, there are,” I said with a nod. “So how’d you settle on applying for this specific job?”
“Cleaning doesn’t exactly take too much experience, so I figured it’s an easy enough job to do, and the palace maids are paid better than any other cleaning jobs in the country.”
“Indeed. Although to be fair, it’s not that easy. I probably wouldn’t have the first clue how to turn on a vacuum cleaner,” I said with a self-deprecating smile. “Unlike some people here, who know very well how to use one early in the morning when I’m hungover as hell...”
She arched an eyebrow and smiled, and my heart soared. Christ, I’d finally managed to get her to crack a real smile.
“Yes, well, no doubt you’ve never had to use one,” she said. “But I could always show you if you really wanted to learn.”
“Maybe,” I said. “But another time. Right now I’d like to know something else about you. Why’d you lie on your CV?”
The smile faded as her body stiffened, and I waved my hand and grinned. “It’s fine, it’s fine. You’re not in trouble at all. I’m just curious. I honestly thought it might be because you wanted to see me again, but I made a right dick of myself in assuming that, didn’t I?”
Her shoulders relaxed. “Well, I guess I felt like I needed to embellish it a bit to stand out, because I imagined there would be hundreds or even thousands of other applicants. I did have some experience at an after-college job I had for a while, but that was only for three years. So I added in an extra two years for all the time I spent cleaning up at home when I was younger.”
“Messy siblings?”
She chewed on her lower lip and suddenly seemed very interested in picking at a split end in her hair. “Alcoholic parents, actually,” she finally said. “I had to help clean up after them a lot when they were drinking, not to mention take care of my younger brothers.”
“Shit. Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”
“It’s fine. I’m okay with talking about it now. It was hard at the time, because they would lie all the time about getting help and then leave us in the lurch to go on another bender.”
Jesus, no wonder she couldn’t stand liars. Her own parents—the two people who a child was meant to trust most in the world—had screwed her up by constantly lying to her when she was younger and making her assume responsibility for all their shit. It sounded like she’d really had a lot on her plate from a young age onwards, and it was no surprise that she’d become so independent after such an experience; something I so admired in her.
“I’m sorry. That’s awful.”
She gave me a brave smile. “It’s okay. They finally got serious about sorting themselves out a few years ago, and they’ve gotten much better.”
“Well, it’s good to hear they finally got help,” I said.
“Yeah. I’m actually much closer with them now that they’ve sorted themselves out. They’re really proud of me for getting my degree, and I’m proud of them for getting better.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” I said with a nod. “And if you’re comfortable sharing that story with me…do you think you might feel comfortable enough to tell me why you were crying when I walked in?”
I hoped I wasn’t pushing her too far, because her body stiffened again, but she nodded anyway. “Your brother said some things.”
“Michael?” Anger flared in me; I might have guessed. I loved my brother to the extent that biology demanded and a little beyond that, but I also knew him to be a jealous and petty little shit-stirrer. “What did he say?”
“Nothing major.” She obviously didn’t want to cause trouble.
“You just said he said some things.”
“They were nothing. I think I just overreacted.”
“The things he said made you cry. That’s not nothing.”
“Well, it wasn’t just that.” Keira looked away.
I didn’t want to upset her further, but if my brother had hurt her, then dammit, I wanted to know the details. “What else?”
“I guess your mother…”
“My mother?”
“It was nothing.”
“Dammit, Keira, it can’t all have been nothing!”
“Sometimes,” Keira raised her own voice now, matching my intensity, “a lot of nothings add up to something. You think things are fine and then a bunch of stuff happens that’s meaningless in itself but gradually wears you down. So you have a good cry, you put it behind you, and you get back to work tomorrow.”
“What did they say?”
“Well, apparently everyone in your family thinks I’m sleeping with you,” she snapped. She probably hadn’t meant to say it, but it was out now.
“What?”
For a moment Keira paused, clearly frustrated that she’d said what she’d said, but now that it was out there, it seemed like she’d figured that she might as well fill me in on the rest. “Your brother thinks you picked me as your maid to be your little whore. Apparently it wouldn’t be the first time.”
“That’s a flat out lie.”
“And your mother…well, I thought we were getting along—looking at paintings—and then I happened to mention that you and I had met in New York, and suddenly it seemed like she thought I was just another of her son’s bimbos. Someone who’s never going to be good enough for him.”
“Okay, wait.” I held up my hands. “For the record, what Michael said: that is completely untrue. All of it.
I did not pick you to be my…I won’t even say that. And I have never, ever slept with any of our maids. As for what my mother said: you and I both know better. You weren’t one of those girls and you never would’ve been. You were different. They had no right to say any of that to you. They’re both completely out of line.”
Keira sighed. “Yes. And then again, no.”
“What? You’re defending them?”
She shrugged. “I’m just saying, I don’t blame your brother for thinking that you chose me to be your sexual stress-ball, because I thought the same thing. I thought it when you picked me as your personal maid, and then you…well, we both know what you did, which seemed to back that theory up pretty strongly…”
My shoulders slumped. “Fair enough.”
“Maybe he was lying about you sleeping with the staff before, but maybe he thought it was true, because if this is how you usually behave then that’s a mistake that anyone could make. As for your mother; again, you can’t blame her for thinking that, because that’s what you’ve conditioned her to think. How would she know that I’m ‘different’? I don’t even know that! You say I never would’ve been just another of your bimbos, but really, how do I know that? How can I believe that, when you told me a false name and were about to take me back to your hotel room on the night we met? How is that different from what you do with any other woman?”
“It’s not,” I admitted, looking Keira right in the eyes. “But you are different.”
“I don’t feel different.”
“Well, that’s my fault then, for not making you feel it,” I said. “I can only apologize for the other morning. I could write it off as my terrible sense of humor or the fact that I was brought up with a real lack of boundaries—comes with the job—but the truth is, I was scared. I’ve never met anyone like you before, I’ve never felt like this about anyone before, and it’s insane to me that I should be feeling anything on so little acquaintance. So I acted out. I acted like a dick. I think part of me was trying to drive you away so I wouldn’t have to deal with how I still felt about you after our brief meeting in New York. Or maybe I was trying to reduce you to the level of my usual ‘relationships’. I don’t know.”