The Last in Line (The Royal Inheritance Series Book 1)

by Banks, Evie

  “You don’t know these two.” Chase and the man named Harry laughed.

  “You know him?” said Renee, mystified.

  “Of course. Trained him myself. He’s following you in order to protect you so don’t run so fast next time, alright? He’s getting on in years.”

  Renee felt deeply embarrassed and shook Harry’s hand.

  “But why scare the heck out of us? Why not just let us know ahead of time that we were going to have security?” Renee asked when they were all piled in Chase’s small car heading back to the hotel. Chase didn’t take his eyes off the road as he talked.

  “I told him to keep a low profile. I didn’t want to spook you on your first day in the country and until you’re actually crowned, we’re working with a skeleton crew for security. I wanted you to relax and be happy to be here. It’s unavoidable, though. You will have personal security for the rest of your lives. There will always be somebody with you.” Renee stared at the dashboard. She was feeling the walls of the world close in. He sighed. “And it slipped my mind. I’m dead tired.”

  For the first time, Renee noticed that Chase’s face was haggard. He had slept as little on the flight as she had and who knows when he last slept before that.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  “No harm done, Mrs. Krebs. Just let Harry here know when you want to go out.”

  Renee had already begun to think of the hotel as home. How quickly people will habituate to anything, she thought. Chase remained in the car while Renee, Cassandra and Harry spilled out onto the sidewalk. Chase leaned out the car window. “Try to take it easy and start small. First figure out which BBC channel you prefer before you start outsmarting the security services,” he said.

  Renee and Cassandra went back inside to order room service and to gain a better acquaintance with British programming.

  CHAPTER NINE

  RENEE WAS HAVING trouble following Roberts’s lesson on the history of the British monarchy. There seemed to be an inordinate number of Henrys and Edwards and Richards, and she simply couldn’t keep them all straight.

  “No, no, no,” said Roberts, pacing the living room of the hotel suite that had been their home for the last two days. Renee sat at a petite writing table with a notebook and pen in front of her. “You’re meeting the Prime Minister tonight and it is very important that you understand this. It’s within the government’s power to pass the Act of Succession that will allow your coronation. If it doesn’t pass…” he paused in his restless circuit, “well—you don’t want him thinking you’re some country bumpkin do you?”

  “But I am a country bumpkin. I’ve never pretended otherwise.” Renee was growing angry.

  “Yes, well, let’s not give him an opportunity to dwell on that fact, shall we?” Roberts continued his pacing with his hands clasped behind his back. Renee took a deep breath and concentrated.

  “Henry VI was a Lancaster and his emblem was the red rose. The Lancasters were fighting the Yorks.”

  Roberts nodded. “Good. Keep going.”

  “Edward VI and Henry IV switched off being king.”

  “EDWARD THE FOURTH AND HENRY THE SIXTH!” roared Roberts.

  Renee slammed her notebook shut. She had done fine up through Alfred the Great. And she knew who Henry VIII was thanks to Herman’s Hermits because once she got started singing that song she couldn’t stop. It was everything in the middle that was hard to remember.

  “You can’t expect me to memorize the entire history of Britain in one day,” she said. “History wasn’t my strongest subject in school.”

  “What was your strongest subject? Perhaps we can emphasize that in our meeting,” said Roberts.

  “Umm.” Renee wracked her brains. School in general had not been her strong suit. “Kissing boys?”

  Cassandra giggled and Roberts shot her a withering glance which silenced her at once.

  “Can you at least manage to remember that World War One came before World War Two? And that the Second World War was Britain’s finest hour? Repeat after me: World War Two was Britain’s Finest Hour,” Roberts intoned.

  “Yes, I’m sure I can remember that,” Renee said, acidly. “I also remember that America saved your tail both times.”

  “Only after years of sitting on the side lines.” Roberts’s voice sounded high and strangled. Renee was learning to recognize this as a sign that he was upset.

  Good.

  Renee and Roberts glared angrily at each other. Renee clenched her jaw and Roberts stood so straight he looked as if he would break. Cassandra looked uneasily between them. The door to the hotel suite was thrown open and Chase ambled in whistling cheerfully. The tune died on his lips when he perceived the strained silence between Renee and Roberts.

  “Who’s got their knickers in a bunch?” he said, looking around.

  Roberts unfroze. “Your future queen is being taught the intricacies of her own history without much success.”

  “It’s not my history, it’s your history,” said Renee through gritted teeth. “My history is Washington, Jefferson, and the great Sam Houston. Anyone named Edward, Edmund or Gaunt can go shove it!”

  “Hear, hear!” said Chase heartily.

  “Sir, don’t encourage her,” said Roberts.

  “Aw, don’t worry so much, Roberts. I hardly think they’re going to have her sit the A-Levels tonight. They merely want to meet her and make sure she’s of sound character before confirming her as the heir.” Chase relaxed in a chair and took an apple from a crystal bowl of fruit.

  “‘Sound character’ is subjective,” said Roberts with a sniff.

  Chase laughed. He answered the cell phone that was buzzing maniacally in his pocket. “Chase here.” As he listened his face lost the merry expression and became somber. “Uh huh,” he said and snapped the phone shut. “Turn on the television,” he directed and Cassandra scrambled to click the remote control.

  The television glowed to life. Renee had been annoyed to discover that the expensive hotel didn’t have cable and only had a handful of BBC channels, which seemed all the same to her. The station was showing a news report. Renee gasped. Her face was on the news. Chase bent to turn up the volume.

  “Rumors are abounding that an heir to the vacant throne has been found. For the last month, the country has been awash in speculation as to who, if anyone, would become the next monarch. From Sir Paul McCartney to Judy Dench—who has often played a queen in film and on stage—to one of the members of the self-styled League of Royal Bastards, whose members are directly descended from the illegitimate offspring of kings and princes, the possibilities are endless. But now it looks as if the odds makers were wrong after all and that the government has looked elsewhere for its new sovereign. This woman”—the picture tightened on Renee who was focused on Cassandra standing on a bench in the background—“was heard saying that she would soon be living in Buckingham Palace—”

  “I did not!” said Renee. “Cassandra was arguing with a boy.”

  “It is known that she is staying in one of the poshest hotels in all of London…”

  “I’m going to interrogate each and every member of the hotel staff,” muttered Chase, angrily.

  “The woman, who is still unnamed, speaks with a Southern American accent…”

  “Texan!” said Cassandra, indignantly.

  “Look out Britain, the Yanks are coming.”

  Chase turned off the television. Everyone in the room was silent.

  “It’s really not that bad,” said Chase, breaking the silence.

  “Not that bad?” said Roberts incredulously. “They practically accused of us of betraying the country!”

  “Look, the only reason to hold off the announcement was just to make sure the decision was settled and to give you more time to gain some polish,” said Chase.

  A panicked squeak escaped from Renee’s throat. She scurried back to the writing table and bent her head over her notebook. “Edward IV beat Henry VI at Tewkesbury,” she recit
ed in a tight, terrified voice. “He built St. George’s. His son was murdered in the tower.” She rocked back and forth trying to will herself to remember a million facts. Tears welled up in her eyes. She was going to fail, the country didn’t want her. “Tewkesbury, Tewkesbury,” she repeated. “Why can’t I remember that?” she wailed.

  Chase put his hands firmly on her shoulders and turned her in the chair to face him. “Mrs. Krebs, look me in the eyes.” Renee’s eyes squinted shut to keep from crying. “Mrs. Krebs? Renee?” he said softly. Renee opened her eyes.

  “You’re going to be fine. Me and Roberts will be right there with you.”

  “Yes, Ma’am, we will,” said Roberts, nodding his head fervently.

  “I think you’re going to be a great queen,” said Chase.

  “You do?” Her voice was thick and watery.

  “Yes and you know how I know?” Renee shook her head. “Because you’re already halfway there. You’re from Texas so you already know how to ride a horse and hunt, right?” Renee nodded. “What else do you think the royals do up at Balmoral? That’s about it, really.” He looked at Roberts for confirmation.

  Roberts nodded. “You’re not far wrong there.”

  Chase continued. “You’re kind, you treat everyone with respect, even the annoying customers…” Renee smiled. “You’re beautiful. You’ve raised an amazing daughter in sometimes difficult circumstances and you always deal with what life throws your way. Who else is better qualified?” demanded Chase.

  She wanted to believe what Chase was saying, but it was impossible. “But I’m just a hick from the country.”

  “You are country gentry,” said Roberts, bracingly, although he had said the exact opposite moments before. “Convince yourself of that and everything will go swimmingly. Besides, Neville Rufus is the son of a convicted felon—forgery and check fraud, I believe—and Rufus himself was accused of some dodgy dealings as head of the union. So it’s lucky he went into politics after that because dodgy dealings are in the job description.”

  Chase looked at Roberts in wonder. “How do you know the things you do?”

  “Thirty years in the Queen’s service…one hears things,” replied Roberts.

  “We may have to hire you on as a consultant at the Met after your retire,” said Chase. He turned back to Renee. “Right. Are you ready to meet your government?”

  * * *

  Though she had managed to achieve a level of calm thanks to the efforts of Roberts and Chase, that emotion was quickly being replaced with something closer to hysteria. They had given up on her studies. She focused now on her preparations in order to avoid thinking about the meeting that was in only an hour. She pulled up the straps of her red cocktail dress. She had always avoided red because she thought it clashed with her hair, but the deep red, shiny fabric was beautiful. Cassandra held a curling iron close to Renee’s ear and warned her not to move while her hair was wrapped tightly around it. When Cassandra was done and the room smelled of singed human hair, Renee applied her makeup: eyeliner, mascara and lipstick that matched the ruby color of the dress. With her hair curling in large loops along her jaw line, she looked like a 1940’s movie star. Cassandra brought her a matching shawl and some diamond earrings.

  “You don’t look like a mom,” said Cassandra as Renee gazed at the unfamiliar figure in the mirror.

  “I don’t? What do I look like?”

  “Like a Bond girl!”

  “Aw, thanks honey.” Renee was pleased. She turned and frowned to see that Cassandra was still dressed in jeans and sneakers. “Why haven’t you changed? We’re leaving in a few minutes.”

  “I’m a kid. It doesn’t matter what I wear,” said Cassandra and flopped on the bed and began switching back and forth between the three channels. Renee removed the remote control from her hands.

  “If I have to get dressed up like a Christmas ornament, then so do you. You are not going to meet the Prime Minister of England with ‘I love Robbie’ written across the bottom of your sneaker.”

  “M-o-m!”

  Renee went to her daughter’s closet and pulled out some of the bags of clothes that had been purchased in New York. She looked in a few and pulled out items. “This dress, these tights and the Mary Jane shoes. And brush your hair. Here’s a headband with a cute bow on it.” She tossed it to Cassandra.

  Cassandra held the headband between two fingers with distaste. “I’m not a little doll.”

  “No, but you are going to get cleaned up and presentable or I will tan your hide. Lord, if my Nana Ross could see you. Even when she was wrangling horses, she was wearing lipstick,” said Renee. Cassandra stomped off to the bathroom to change, complaining loudly of the unfairness of it all. She reemerged, scowling, but dressed. “You look so adorable,” gushed Renee and wanted to touch her cheek the way she had when Cassandra was a child and clothed in a frilly birthday dress, but Cassandra took a step backwards and crossed her arms. Renee sighed. Her daughter wasn’t that little girl anymore. “Let’s go.”

  Chase and Roberts stood when Renee and Cassandra entered the living room.

  “Radiant!” said Roberts.

  Chase nodded once. “Very nice. The car is waiting downstairs.”

  They filed out of the suite. Ever since her embarrassing escape from her security guard, Harry, she had made a point of meeting every person on her security rotation. She said hello to John, who never missed an opportunity to show her photographs of his two children. He would be staying behind to guard the suite. “Ma’am,” he said as she passed.

  They all squeezed into the elevator. Renee’s arm was pressed against Chase’s. She wanted to say something nice about the suit he was wearing, but couldn’t think of anything that didn’t sound awkward. It was Chase who broke the tense silence.

  “I don’t want to alarm you, but there may be some photographers waiting for you. Just one or two, don’t worry.”

  Something in his assurance made Renee suspicious. The elevator doors opened. She saw Harry waiting by the front door and he walked out in front of them as they exited the hotel with two more guards taking up the rear.

  As soon as she was out of the hotel, flashes lit up the darkening evening. Questions were shouted at her from all sides. She could hardly see who was doing the shouting, blinded as she was by the cameras. She pasted a smile on her face and tried not to blink so much.

  —“Where are you from? What’s your name?”

  —“Are you the next queen of England?”

  —“Are you going to fly the American flag from Buckingham Palace?”

  —“Who are you going to support in the World Cup—England or America?”

  Renee didn’t look to the left or the right, but held tightly to Cassandra’s hand and stared glassy-eyed at Roberts’s back in front of her. Chase held lightly onto her elbow. If it wasn’t for that, she might have run back inside to hide, but the few short steps to the waiting limousine were quickly traversed and she slid in after Roberts. Cassandra and Chase followed and Harry sat up front by the driver. The two other guards got into a small Vauxhall behind the limousine. The vehicle pulled away and left the flashing cameras.

  “See, nothing to it,” said Chase, but he exhaled as he turned to look out the window.

  “You remained very composed,” said Roberts.

  “I was petrified,” admitted Renee. She clasped her hands in her lap to keep them from shaking.

  “It will get easier,” he said.

  Renee couldn’t imagine that happening, but kept silent. She didn’t say anything for the rest of the short drive to 10 Downing Street and tried to listen to Roberts’s running commentary on the people she was about to meet.

  “The important thing to remember about being the queen is that you are above politics,” he was saying. “Whether you like or dislike a politician, or like or dislike a political party is unimportant. You don’t get yourself involved in political issues.”

  “Got it. No opinion, no brain, no involvement,” said Ren
ee.

  “Excellent. Now we’ve got that sorted I can tell you that the Tories, while generally common-sensical, are completely ineffective. Labour is pushing towards full monetary Union and there are not a few among them that will be disappointed to see the monarchy continue as they view it as an outdated institution. Anything that emphasizes British sovereignty rather than diminish it is a negative in their eyes.”

  Renee didn’t know what a Tory was or what Roberts meant by “Labor”. Was that the name of a person or did it refer to a labor union? And why would a labor union push for a union if they already had one? It didn’t make sense, but there wasn’t time to ask questions. “What do you think?” she asked Chase.

  Chase smiled. “I am employed by the government.”

  “Is that your way of saying you plead the Fifth?”

  “The what?”

  “The fifth amendment of the Constitution; the right not to incriminate yourself,” explained Renee.

  “We don’t have that here, but essentially, yes.”

  Renee wanted to press him further, but the car was pulling up to a curb. With a shock, Renee realized that they had arrived. She looked out the car window at an impressive white building.

  “Wow, that’s got to be bigger than the White House!”

  “No Ma’am, that is not the Prime Minister’s residence. That one is,” said Roberts and pointed out the window on the other side of the limousine.

  “That little black brick building?” said Cassandra in disbelief, gazing out. “But it’s so small!”

  “Americans,” sighed Roberts. “You have too much space over there. Everything is always oversized and McMansioned, isn’t it? Never judge a book by its cover.” He tapped his beakish nose and climbed out of the vehicle. Chase stood waiting to offer his hand to Renee to assist her out of the limousine. She had thought it was simply a courtly gesture, but when she wobbled in her high heels, she was grateful for his steadying hand. Cassandra bounded out behind her.