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

by Banks, Evie

  “And what was it like, when you first found out who you were? How did that come about?” he asked.

  This was it. This is what a worldwide audience was tuning in to hear.

  “I was in disbelief.”

  “How did you react?” he asked.

  “I might have taken a swing at them with the baseball bat.” she admitted. “I thought my husband had sent the two British gentlemen to play a practical joke on me.”

  The audience chuckled. Renee smiled with them and looked down. Her gaze landed on her shoe ware. Even her outfit had been agonized over; the gorgeous black cowboy boots had been custom ordered from a small outfit in Texas just for this interview. The boot buckle caught the light like jewelry.

  “How did your husband take the news?” asked Hutchison.

  Renee took a breath. This was one of the sticker subjects that might sink her if she wasn’t careful.

  Despite being hauled out of Renee’s hotel suite, Chase had been unable to deport him. He was under a restraining order to keep his distance from Renee, but was free to talk to reporters and talk he did. No detail of their married life was sacrosanct. The public knew that Renee burned shirts with an iron, had been estranged from her father and mother, and had once been fired from a job for talking back to the boss. He also never failed to play the role of the aggrieved husband who was ditched as soon as his wife found out she was going to inherit a fortune, which infuriated Renee more than anything else. Renee didn’t know how Ray was keeping afloat financially while he was in England, but suspected that Bretton had something to do with it. In fact, Bretton could afford to sit back and keep silent since Ray was doing the work for him. She needed to put an end to this and recalled the words Audrey had told her after Renee had angrily switched off yet another news show where Ray was spewing his lies: she had something to offer that no one else did, the truth. And the truth would ring as clear as bells on a beautiful day.

  Renee felt calm as she spoke.

  “By the time I learned who I was, he had already walked out on me. He spent the rent money at the pool hall and paying for a boob job for one of his floozies. I had to work double shifts at the diner just to buy food. I filed for divorce a week before I learned the unbelievable news and now he’s holding the divorce papers hostage and refusing to sign them unless I cut a deal with him agreeing to give him a portion of the assets, meaning a portion of the royal assets.” She let those words sink in so everyone would understand the blackmail that was being held over her head. Renee leaned forward and looked right at the camera. “But honey, the only assets you’re ever going to get your hands on are the ones you paid for on that two-bit, home-wrecking tramp. Enjoy them.”

  The audience erupted in cheers. Renee leaned weakly back in her chair. Her hands shook slightly as she took a drink from the glass of water provided for her, but no one noticed.

  “I think you just spoke for every wronged woman in existence,” said Hutchison, slapping her on the knee and squeezing. “I might know one or two of them myself.” He mimed pulling at his collar like he was feeling the heat.

  The audience continued to applaud and whistle, and for the rest of the interview she felt that they were on her side. They liked her and believed her. More importantly, Hutch had touched her knee.

  When the interview was over, Renee felt terrific.

  “That was incredible!” said Audrey, flinging herself at Renee when she walked back into the wings.

  “Well done,” said Roberts with his usual calm. “And to you, Miss Finch.”

  Audrey beamed.

  Chase seemed to be working hard to keep from smiling. “He paid for a boob job, eh?” He paused and stared intently at her. “He’s crazy.” Both Chase and Renee looked away from each other feeling all the awkwardness of the moment. His mobile buzzed and he walked a few paces away to take the call.

  Hutchison strolled up to greet her.

  “Lady Montshire, that was a smashing good interview. People will be talking about it tomorrow. I doubt any interview since the punk musician Wretch Roth announced he was going New Wave will have as much impact. I hope to have you on again as a guest. Perhaps mano a mano with Ammon Bretton, or—dare I even breathe it—perhaps after the coronation?”

  “Let’s not put the plow before the horse,” said Renee. “There’s still the little matter of whose name will be on the Bill of Succession.”

  Renee had been careful to avoid politics in the interview and not cast aspersions on the Prime Minister, but her very reticence to speak about it after Hutchison asked her direct questions spoke volumes.

  The jovial Hutchison scowled. “I’ve heard some grumblings on this point and how it’s been handled, but I believe your odds are better now than they were an hour ago before the interview.”

  “I can’t thank you enough, Mr. Hutchison,” said Renee and meant it.

  “It’s Hutch. And it was your words that did the trick. I merely provided the platform. This country has never been too long without a monarch. It feels unnatural.”

  “But you would have one even if Bretton is chosen,” Renee pointed out.

  “Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t, don’t you think? And we know an awful lot about you now.” Hutch winked.

  They parted and when Renee stepped into the light of day, instead of smiling shyly and waving at the paparazzi as she usually did, she waded into the mix, saying “Thank you,” and “How y’all doing?” No problem, she thought, just remember how you acted when you won Rodeo Queen. You were everybody’s best friend.

  Her security team tried to prevent people from getting too close, but she shook as many hands as she could. “Get used to it,” she said to Chase as she signed an autograph. He had been trying to create some space between her and the horde.

  A black limousine pulled up and she was bustled inside. Chase told her that Harry would ride in front and that he, Roberts, and Audrey would take a second car.

  “But we didn’t arrive this way,” she said.

  Chase shrugged and from the clench of his jaw she judged that he wasn’t happy about something. She continued to wave and say thank you until he closed the door. She settled back into the deep leather seat, relieved that her first interview had gone so well, and nearly screamed when she realized she wasn’t alone in the vehicle. A man with a bushy mustache and eyebrows, and with a nose like a street boxer sat in the far corner across from her. He looked furious.

  “Prime Minister Rufus! What are you doing here?”

  “I might ask you the same thing,” he said.

  Renee stared at him levelly. “I am going back to the hotel to eat dinner. If you would like a full itinerary, I’m sure Roberts can get that information to you. Would you like to join us?”

  The Prime Minister rolled a cigar stub between his thumb and forefinger. He looked as he was weighing his words. “No. Thank you.”

  Renee waited. She was still trying to get control of her galloping heart rate.

  “What were you doing giving an interview?” he asked.

  “Is there something wrong with giving an interview?”

  “No. Yes. Yes, there is, in fact. You implied that my government is playing politics with the monarchy.”

  “Are you?” asked Renee.

  “Absolutely not! But you implied it.”

  “No, I didn’t. All I said was that I can’t speak for the government about how things will be decided.”

  Rufus put the cigar stub between his teeth and chewed on it.

  “Do you remember what I said—that I would help you if you would help me?” said Rufus.

  “How could I forget?” said Renee.

  “That offer still stands, but you are not doing yourself any favors by giving interviews.”

  Renee had had enough. “Mr. Prime Minister, can we stop talking bull and start talking cattle? What is it you want?”

  Rufus’s eyes widened, but then he smiled, showing nicotine-stained teeth. “There’s something to be said for the
American way of doing business. All right, Queenie, here it is. I will personally write your name onto the Bill of Succession if you will publicly support my agenda.”

  “And what is your agenda?”

  “To help the downtrodden, those who can’t help themselves.”

  Renee considered his words. “How exactly do you plan on helping the downtrodden?”

  “By bringing Britain into the modern world. It’s easier to get things done when part of a larger whole, rather than floating isolated out here in the sea like a turd floating in the toilet. Full monetary union with Europe and adoption of the Euro would give us access to so much: to expert workers and different ways of doing things and we’d be plugged into the monetary distribution system which would boost what the government could do here at home in Britain. We wouldn’t be limited by what our taxes could bring in. We could have more. ” Rufus, who had leaned forward while making his pitch, now sat back. “It’s a win-win situation. Americans like win-win situations.”

  “Americans also know that it works both way. If Europe is giving up something to Britain, then Britain is going to have to give up something to Europe, like it’s freedom,” said Renee.

  “But it works for the Americans. Think of it—a United States of Europe!”

  “I don’t know,” said Renee, doubtfully. “I kind of like Britain the way it is.”

  “We could increase the royal budget,” said Rufus, abandoning all niceties. “We could allocate funds to rebuild that little house you were looking at with that fool, Hughes. Oh, yes, I know all about that, the Montshire ruins,” he said with a sneer.

  “I’m not for sale,” snapped Renee.

  “You are a sweet, young lady and new to politics. You will soon learn that everyone has their point of persuasion.”

  “I’m not going to sell out England for the promise of a house.”

  “Helping England is not selling out. And you’ll need somewhere to live. The hotel is paid for by the government,” he said.

  “That’s true.”

  “We could stop paying it.”

  “Oh,” said Renee, raising an eyebrow. “Have you decided to pass the Bill of Succession with Bretton’s name on it?”

  The very mention of his name made the bile rise in her throat.

  “I didn’t say that. Don’t be so hasty,” said Rufus.

  “What other meaning could there be?” she asked. “You threatened to cut off my funding, which means you don’t think I will be the monarch.”

  “Threats? Who is speaking of threats? I merely reminded you that the sovereign’s expenses are paid for out of the public purse.”

  “Thank you for the reminder. I’ll be sure to remind the public of this when I’m kicked out of the hotel for unpaid bills.”

  Rufus ground the cigar so much he had to spit bits of it out.

  “You should take up chewing tobacco,” said Renee, disgusted.

  Rufus turned red.

  “Mrs. Krebs—”

  “It’s Lady Montshire,” said Renee.

  “Oh ho, you’ve certainly come up in the world since I met you, haven’t you, Lady Montshire? You’re not fooling anybody. Well, I come from the gutter too, from council estates in Leeds, and I understand you. I understand your need to prove yourself to the swells, but they’ll never accept you. They don’t even accept me and I’m the bloody Prime Minister. They fear me, though. And I could help you. If you work with me, I’ll work with you. This is my final offer.”

  Renee felt a moment of panic. He was right, she didn’t know anything about politics. But she did know that she didn’t like to be kicked around. In fact, she’d had just about enough of it. She would just have to rough it and she would have help. She had Roberts, and Audrey, and Britchford, Erastus and Simon Coakely. The thought of Simon brought a blush to her cheeks.

  “Mr. Prime Minister, in America we’re taught that we’re all created equal and that no person, not even a king or queen, is above the law. I may have been plucked out of the back fields of Texas to be the queen, but if people sneer at me because I’m low class, that will be my problem, not yours. I’ll learn to live with it.”

  The scenery outside was going by too slowly. Renee sincerely hoped the car was taking her back to the hotel. Surely, Chase wouldn’t allow her to be kidnapped like this. That must have been what his sour expression was about—Rufus had called him to arrange this meeting. Who the hell did Chase think he worked for? Her fury both with Chase and Rufus was building by the second, but she supposed she should be flattered that her interview hadn’t been over for five minutes before the head of the government had made a move to head her off. She must be doing something right.

  “Alright, Lady Montshire, it sounds as if you’ve made a decision,” said Rufus.

  “You bet I have!”

  She banged on the glass that separated the front of the limousine from the passenger seats. It lowered with a smooth hum. “Driver, stop the car now! Harry, I’m getting out.”

  The driver appeared confused so to make clear her intentions, Renee grabbed the door handle and flung open the door while the vehicle was still travelling. The limousine screeched to a halt, causing a cacophony of car horns to sound behind it. Renee jumped out and Harry followed quickly, surprise written all over his usually placid face. He spoke quickly into his earpiece.

  Rufus leaned in the open door. “Mrs. Krebs, what are you doing? Get back in this car. Our driver will take you where you need to go. Get back in the car and we can discuss the offer in a more civilized manner.”

  “Mr. Prime Minister, you can take your offer and shove it. I will see you in Hell before I sell out this country.”

  She slammed the door on Rufus’s face, which had turned a dangerous shade of purple. Renee marched past stunned pedestrians, while Harry kept close on her heel. Her boot buckles jingled angrily as she walked. Fortunately, they were only a few blocks from the hotel and when she stormed into her suite ten minutes later and came face to face with Chase, she was ready to let him have it. Roberts, Cassandra, Audrey, and even Leanne looked cowed by the sight of her fury.

  “You,” she said, and pointed an accusing finger at Chase’s heart. “How could you do that to me! You knew what he was planning.”

  “I didn’t. I was just following orders.”

  “That’s what the Nazis said.” Renee could hardly contain herself.

  “You’re being unreasonable,” said Chase.

  “—Trapped in a car with that revolting troll—”

  “I have something to tell you.”

  “—Completely blindsided—”

  “I’m off the case.”

  “—It was an ambush. I can see who you’re working for and it’s not me!”

  She was in a righteous fury and wanted him gone from her sight. She didn’t understand why he was just standing there, his arms hanging by his side. Suddenly, his words registered. “Wait, what?” Renee was confused.

  “I’m off the case,” Chase said again. “Rufus just called and he’s removed me from your service.”

  “Well, he can’t do that. I say you’re staying.”

  Chase shook his head. “He can do it. In fact, he’s done it. I am a public employee. My salary is paid for by the government.”

  “Fine. You’ve just resigned your job and now you work for me. Roberts can arrange it, can’t you?” She looked over at Roberts who was watching with wide, fearful eyes. “Can’t you?”

  “No, he can’t,” said Chase.

  “Why not? I’m sick of Rufus dictating my life. I’m sure there’s a way—”

  “There’s a photograph, Renee!” It was the first time Chase had used her first name in weeks and the shock of it stopped her angry pacing. He bowed his head. “Forgive me. I meant to say, Lady Montshire.”

  “What photograph, what are you talking about?”

  “Of us. In New York. It looks bad.”

  For a moment his face looked so haggard that she wanted to reach out and smooth away th
e creases.

  “I don’t remember any photograph. We were too busy shopping. The only photograph I remember was when—Oh!”

  She vividly remembered when the tourist had asked for their picture and Chase had obliged by putting his arm around her. She remembered how that had felt, to feel his strong hand on her. How electric and alive she had felt. How the world had seemed to melt away and leave just the two of them.

  Chase nodded.

  “But that was nothing,” said Renee. “Just a posed picture.”

  “Not from the angle they shot it from. It looks like more than that and it makes it look like the heiress to the throne of England is having a dalliance with the help. They must have had someone tailing you. I’m beginning to suspect that it’s the same party who leaked information on your presence in London.”

  “But I’m not—we’re not!” Renee was flustered. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t thought of it, she wasn’t an angel. I mean, who wouldn’t, she thought, just look at him! But she knew the limits. Heck, Chase had set those limits with a bright, red marker. “We’ll just tell the truth. It will blow over.”

  Chase ran his hand through his hair. “The picture is already out! The damage is done and there is not one damned thing I can do about it. I’ve been removed, effective immediately. Rufus must have been keeping this in his back pocket, waiting for the right time. That interview must have really scared him.” There was bitterness in his voice. “Harry will take over your security. He’s excellent. Highly trained.” Chase’s words were clipped and his jaw was working as if trying to gain control of his emotions. “You are in excellent hands, Lady Montshire. I take my leave of you now.”

  “Chase—no. Wait a minute. Please.”

  But he was already at the door. Renee was in shock as he opened it. He couldn’t be leaving. He had been with her since the beginning. He turned suddenly right before he exited. “I will always be in your service.”

  He was gone.

  She had experienced such a vast array of emotions in so short an amount of time; from the nervousness and then euphoria of the successful interview, to the earth-shaking fury of the encounter with Rufus, and now the shock of Chase’s departure and the knowledge that her success on the show had lasted less than an hour, that she was now pegged as a loose woman no matter the truth. The world seemed to tilt and she was suddenly struggling to draw a breath. Roberts and Audrey rushed forward and caught her before she collapsed. They each put an arm around their shoulders and managed to get Renee to her bed. Renee didn’t even notice them as they gently removed her designer boots and pulled a blanket over her. She just stared at the ceiling unaware of anything except that her life was in complete ruin.