by Geneva Lee
I smoothed my dress down and slid open the door behind me. Giving Alexander a small smile, I stepped through it. I couldn’t say goodbye to him again. It had shredded me before. It might kill me now.
But he followed me, pausing in the doorway. “What will it take, Clara?”
“A different world,” I murmured before adding, “Bye, X.”
Who was I kidding? I wasn’t going to survive this anyway.
Chapter Five
Curiosity got the better of me. Maybe it was my run-in with Alexander. Maybe it was a need for some empathy. Maybe it was that I couldn't decide if nearly sleeping with Alexander had been a mistake or a step in the right direction. But I suspected there was one person in my life who would be able to empathize. Alexander’s younger brother had been a friend to me when I needed it the most, and I’d spent the last few weeks avoiding him. Besides, I was curious to catch up with him. Still in the closet Edward and his secret boyfriend David had broken up following the disastrous trip to the country that had also ended my relationship with Alexander.
What happened to that damn cat? I chided myself. Curiosity had prompted me to open those letters. Curiosity had given Alexander a window back into my life. Curiosity was going to kill me.
And that was how I found myself sitting in a quiet corner table waiting for the more emotionally stable son of Cambridge. We'd arranged to meet late in the afternoon—well past tea or lunchtime—in a pub on Kensington High Street. No one in the office had batted an eye when I left for the afternoon. I guessed Bennett was secretly pleased to see me going out, although he’d simply joked that he owed me an afternoon since I would be spending the evening watching his twins.
As I'd suspected would be the case, the place was deserted save for a few regulars in residence at the bar. Edward swept into the pub with an air of authority that matched his birthright. He didn't look snobbish or out of place as he crossed the well-worn plank floor and took a seat in a rickety chair across from mine. This was his country after all and he fit here, like a benevolent lord come to visit his patrons. His demeanor reminded me of Alexander. It didn't help that he had the same striking blue eyes and thick black hair. But Edward's hair was curly and his figure lean. With stylish, horn-rimmed glasses perched over his nose, he seemed boyish in comparison to his brother. Maybe that's why I'd felt comfortable around him from the moment we met. He didn't intimidate me the way the rest of his family did—the way that Alexander did—even with his obviously royal air.
"Clara." A lazy smile spread across his handsome face. "It's good to have the band back together."
I raised an eyebrow.
"The lonely hearts club, of course." He perused the menu as he spoke.
"I take it that one is the loneliest number then?" I'd expected as much, but I couldn't deny that I'd secretly hoped Edward and David had worked things out. If they'd been able to…but it was stupid to even entertain the possibility. Being with a royal came with demands and expectations that mere mortals couldn’t live up to.
“At least today two can be as sad as one."
The waiter delivered us from our lyrical pity party and we ordered the house fish and chips and some pints.
“Very British menu choices." Edward lounged back in his chair, folding his long arms behind his head. “Are you sure you don’t want something more American?”
I sighed dramatically and took a sip of my beer. My dual citizenship was definitely a topic of controversy in the tabloids—and behind closed doors in the palace. Not that it mattered since Alexander and I weren’t together anymore. Or were we? Our whole relationship felt as confused as my citizenship. “Haven't you heard that I'm vying to be the next Queen of England?"
"But I've had my heart set on it for years." He clutched his chest dramatically, feigning pain.
"I think you stand as much of a chance as I do,” I said dryly. “Not that it will stop any reporters from dissecting my chances.”
The tabloids had been following me less, but I was still a hot topic. Was Alexander hiding me away? Had we broken up? Was he seeing someone else? The irrational side of me hated that rumor the most. My thoughts drifted to our stolen moment in the club. I was being paranoid. I'd read his letters and I'd felt his touch. There was no one else.
Not yet.
“If you're going to take a mind trip, can I go along next time?" Edward asked, calling me from my thoughts. "Preferably somewhere sunny."
"England's pretty sunny in August."
“Okay, anywhere but England."
If only that was a real possibility for either of us. Alexander wasn’t the only Royal harboring secrets. Edward’s sexual preferences were closely guarded by the palace as well. No wonder the whole lot was so screwed up.
“Actually,” he said thoughtfully, “it will probably boost both of our images to be seen together. I can see the headlines now: Betrayed by His Brother.”
I chuckled humorlessly. “Your father would love that one. Both of his sons linked to a terrible American.”
“Father loves any news piece that insinuates I’m heterosexual.”
Our conversation died down as the waiter delivered our food. Neither of us were eager to be overheard, lest our private discussion turn into actual tabloid fodder. It was one thing to joke about it, and totally another thing to fend off the rumors that I was bouncing between two royal beds. As soon as we were alone again, I lowered my voice and returned the topic to a more serious subject. “When was the last time you spoke to David?”
“When was the last time I spoke to him?” Edward dabbed the corners of his mouth with his napkin. “Or when did I last try?”
“At least you’re trying,” I murmured. Staring down at my fish, a wave of empathy rolled through my body. I knew what it was like to be caught, publicly fried, and tossed onto a plate for public display. Suddenly I wasn’t very hungry.
“Alexander hasn’t attempted a reconciliation?”
I hesitated, uncertain how to answer. It was impossible to explain Alexander’s behavior. I hadn’t known about the letters until a few days ago. If I’d just read them, I might believe Alexander wanted to get back together. But his behavior at Brimstone had only confused me. Alexander didn’t want me back, he wanted me under his control. “I suppose he has.”
“Let me guess.” Edward leaned back in his seat and eyed me appraisingly. “He made promises that things would be okay, but you didn’t believe him.”
“It sounds like you’re familiar with this situation.” I’d given up on lunch entirely now.
“I suppose I am. Except that I’m in the opposite position, making all the promises and knowing I don’t have a hope in hell of living up to them.”
“Then why make them at all?” The question exploded from me, earning a censorious look from my companion.
“Because we want to believe in fairy tales, Clara,” he said in a quiet voice. “That we’ll find our one true love and live happily ever after.”
“Then allow me to speak for David for a moment. We don’t expect magic or glass slippers or fairy godmothers. We just want to love you.”
“Clara, Alexander and I have lived our whole lives under the scrutiny of the world. Asking someone we love to endure the paparazzi and endless tabloid attacks is the last thing either of us want to do.”
I sucked in a breath to steady myself. I already had a fair share of tabloid headlines to my name. What was a few more? “Try again.”
“I suppose—” he paused, folding his hands on the table —“we’re scared. Scared that we can’t protect you. That we’ll break you. That you’ll see how broken we are.”
“You aren’t broken,” I told him softly.
His answering laugh was hollow. “I live a lie. And Alexander currently vacillates between drinking alone at home and drinking in the private room at Brimstone.”
This was news to me. I’d seen Alexander at Brimstone, of course, but learning that he’d taken to drinking alone came as more of a surprise than it should.
“For what it’s worth,” Edward continued, “Alexander loves you.”
“Then why did he push me away?” The words whispered across my lips.
It was impossible that Edward heard them, but he answered anyway. Perhaps he was asking himself the same thing. “Because that proves how much he loves you. Enough to give you up and walk away.”
“Like you love David?” I asked.
“I don’t have the strength that Alexander has.” Edward slipped his glasses off and rubbed his temples. When he looked up, his smile was brittle at the edges. “I didn’t give David up. He left me, remember? I’m afraid I’m too selfish. David won’t even return my calls.”
Something about his words recalled the old proverb drilled into our heads as children. “Actions speak louder than words. Find him and show him. Don’t give him a chance to run from you.”
Edward’s head cocked to one side, considering my advice. “Perhaps you’re right. Maybe it’s time for action.”
I gave him an encouraging smile as I tried to avoid the jealousy that churned through me. I was hopeful for David and Edward, but I couldn’t help but wish that Alexander would fight for me. He’d made plenty of promises, written in letters and spoken with honeyed lips, but without action, promises were only wishes.
“I let them have water before bed, but god help you if you give them candy.” Bennett piled another sheet of emergency numbers into my waiting hands and I tried not to giggle at the sight of my self-possessed boss acting like a nervous parent. He could handle presentations for movie stars and politicians, but his daughters had him frantic.
“I’ve got this,” I said soothingly. “You’ve already wasted half an hour making sure that I knew how to call the police, the fire department and the ambulance. I have your mobile number. Get out of here before you’re late for the play.” It felt good to get away from my rigid schedule and do something for someone else. Besides that, I knew the girls would keep me so busy I wouldn’t have time to think about Alexander. It was a win-win.
“Okay.” Bennett checked his back pocket for his wallet and straightened his shirt, but he was still anxious. I didn’t have the heart to ask him if this was the first time he’d gone out socially since his wife had died, but I suspected it was. “I’ll be back by ten.”
“Take your time,” I encouraged him. It wasn’t as if I had any plans.
“I think it’s better if I ease back into the world of the living.”
I didn’t miss the subtle hint, but I ignored it, pushing him toward the door. By the time I finally locked it behind him, he’d managed to give me two more phone numbers I could call if I needed help.
Abby and Amy were balls of energy. They shared their fathers bouncy curls, but their eyes were wide and curious and trimmed with thick lashes. Their mother’s eyes, I guessed. We had a tea party on the floor of the flat. I was the guest of honor. It was the most civilized party I’d been to in months—including the one I’d had with the queen.
They also ran on what appeared to be an inexhaustible supply of energy. By the time I plopped down on the sofa, I was pretty sure I was going to fall asleep. It had taken over an hour to calm them down enough to put to bed. Now the flat was silent and for the first time in a long time, I welcomed the peace and quiet.
The shrill ring of my mobile interrupted the moment. I checked the screen, sighed, and slid accept. “Hi Mom.”
“Clara, you answered.” There was a note of disbelief in her voice. In all fairness, I’d been avoiding her for the past few weeks. I hadn’t been able to do so entirely, but I had managed to only see and speak with her during public outings where I was certain she wouldn’t ask me about what was happening between Alexander and me.
The problem was that I couldn’t avoid her forever.
“I had a free minute,” I explained, glancing toward the door to the twins’ room and lowering my voice. “What’s up?”
“You’re quiet,” she accused. “Where are you?”
There was no doubt she was expecting a juicy answer. “Actually, I’m babysitting.”
“Babysitting?” she repeated.
“For my boss. His wife passed away last—”
“Well, I suppose Alexander is with you.”
It was a trick and I knew it. When I said no, she would launch her interrogation. She’d seen the tabloid headlines for weeks—the ones speculating on the state of our relationship—although she had a different perspective than the average gossip rag reader. She’d met Alexander. She’d seen us together.
She knew I loved him.
But Mom and I had never had an open relationship. We didn’t discuss things and I didn’t confide in her. We’d confronted my illness together in the past, but it hadn’t made us any closer. Sometimes I wished it had, because right now I could use some unconditional love.
“He’s not, actually.” I kept my response simple, hoping to avoid further questions.
“I don’t know what’s going on with you two, but you have a life outside of him, Clara.” Mom paused, but I didn’t speak immediately.
She was right. I did have a life outside of Alexander—I’d just been avoiding it. But seeing him at Brimstone had changed something. Maybe it had only been a few stolen moments, but they had breathed life into me. “I know that. Work has been crazy. I’ve been handling a large campaign.”
“We should get together and do lunch soon.”
I couldn’t dodge her phone calls and requests much longer and we both knew it. “That would be nice.”
“Soon. I have something I need to speak with you about.” Her voice caught as she spoke and a shiver ran up my spine.
“Is everything okay?”
“Everything is fine.”
But I knew my mother well enough to know that fine was code for trouble. It was likely that trouble had something to do with my father’s late nights and her fragile emotional state. She didn’t understand why he insisted on chasing new projects, but I did. Keeping a woman like Madeline Bishop happy was no small feat. She oozed anxiety on the best of days.
“Clara,” she continued, “you would tell me if something was wrong? If you were slipping up?”
My throat hitched and I swallowed. “Of course.”
“Because I saw on TMI that—“
“Don’t believe what you see on TMI,” I cut her off. I’d tried to avoid the stories they posted about me, but I was only human. No matter how many times they speculated about my weight or my nonexistent relationship or Alexander’s late night activities, I couldn’t stop myself from looking at their so-called reports. But I knew they weren’t true.
“Clara,” she began in her shrill, I-am-your-mother voice, but a beep interrupted her.
“I have another call. I need to take it. It could be my boss.”
“Of course. I’ll speak with you this week.” Her voice was flat with annoyance, but I said a quick goodbye and answered the waiting call.
“Saved by the Belle,” I quipped as I answered my best friend’s call. Once again I found myself grateful for Belle’s almost preternatural timing. It was as if she could sense when she needed to save me from my mother.
“Are the children in bed?” Belle asked.
“Yes. Finally. I never thought they would sleep.”
“Good,” she said quietly. Something was up by the sound of her voice. “You should turn on Entertainment Today.”
My stomach bottomed out and I couldn’t bring myself to respond as I fumbled for the remote and flipped on the telly.
“You’re sitting down, right?” she pressed.
Frustration and fear got the better of me. “For fuck’s sake, Belle, what’s going on?”
“Alexander gave a rather interesting interview at the Global Aid fundraiser tonight.”
Had he done so with a certain gorgeous, but bitchy blonde on his arm? Is that what she wanted me to see? Proof that he was the good-for-nothing she believed him to be. This time my stomach turned over and I fought the urge
to run for the loo. It was bound to happen sooner or later, but I’d stupidly let myself believe that the other night at Brimstone had meant something to him.
“He couldn’t wait around forever,” I mumbled into my mobile.
There was a pause on the other end that lasted so long that I checked the screen to make sure we hadn’t been cut off. “Just watch. They teased the clip a few minutes ago and they should be playing the whole bit here in a minute.”
“You aren’t making me feel any better.”
“This might,” she said. “Oh! It’s on.”
I found the right channel just as Alexander’s handsome face flashed on screen. His eyes were even bluer on camera and a pang twisted my heart. “Found it.”
We lapsed into silence as the Entertainment Today host introduced the story with speculation on Alexander’s lack of a date. Relief flashed through me, but it didn’t last for long. I twisted a loose lock of hair around my finger and tried to stay calm as they aired the interview. He looked amazing in a classic black tuxedo that was precisely tailored to show off his muscular body. I wasn’t sure if it was the same one he’d worn to the gala we attended together, but regardless my body responded to the sight as if it remembered the things he had done to me while wearing it.
A buxom redhead reporter sauntered close to him with mic in hand. I hated her simply for being near him. “Alexander, where’s your date this evening?”
She was American. Her accent and the almost rude directness of her question gave it away, but Alexander simply flashed her a dazzling smile.
“Clara is at home tonight,” Alexander responded fluidly. Nothing in his face betrayed the truth—that he had no clue where I was this evening and that he hadn’t for quite some time.
“She’s been spotted coming and going to her flat lately, but not with you. You two haven’t been seeing much of each other these days.”
“My girlfriend has a career,” he reminded her and my heart leapt involuntarily. “She’s tired and I told her I would see her at home tonight. As I’m sure you know, we recently moved in together.”