Chapter Twenty-Two

FOR SOME ABSURD reason, I thought my father’s death might soften my grandmother. I was wrong. As soon as we reached the palace, her yes-men were waiting for us, ready to pounce. At least Simon de-fucking-Montfort wasn’t with them.

I should have known he’d be with the queen, creeping around her like a guard dog. Presti and I were ushered into her office; the disdain for us dripped from the yes-men like a living thing. If I had reached out to touch them, I would have felt their contempt. We’d broken the cardinal rule. Presti and I had shown the world our feelings for each other.

“James,” my grandmother snapped. “What the bloody hell have you done?”

“Gran, I’m sorry—”

“Not bad enough that you fainted at your father’s coffin, but then this total stranger comes to your aid, and you kiss him! There, in front of everyone.”

Simon stood behind my grandmother, a smug grin on his stupid face. I said, “He’s not a stranger to me—”

“And at a time like this. When you are supposed to be grieving, showing respect for your father, not…engaging in foreplay with some person—”

“Just a minute!” Presti shouted. “I know you are the queen, and you’ve achieved the longest sceptredom of any monarch, and while that is all simply splendid, James is your grandson. Your grandson . And he has lost his father. He should never have been out there to begin with. Standing at his father’s coffin while strangers parade past like some ghoulish spectacle.’

“Presti—”

“I’ve got this, James,” he said and turned back to my grandmother. “I love James. I would do anything for him, but I will not stand by while you and that cockthroppled nitwit—” Presti pointed at Simon. “—try to make him feel bad for loving his father more than his duty. I won’t allow you to make him feel guilty for having a very normal reaction to the trauma of losing his father.” Presti looked around, glanced at me, and dropped into something between a bow and a courtesy. “Your Majesty.”

To my surprise, my grandmother laughed. Simon de-fucking-Montfort did not. He glowered at Presti, a flush raging on his face. “How dare you,” he began. “You self-important little nobody. No one speaks to Her Majesty in that way—”

“Perhaps they should, Simon.” I turned to my grandmother. “I love you, Gran, and I loved my father, but I’m not you. I cannot go out there and pretend I’m fine when really I’m falling apart. And I’m sorry the world found out about Presti the way they did, but I am proud to show them that this wonderful, perfect man loves me.”

The room fell silent momentarily, and then Gran rose and stepped toward me. She looked tiny, almost frail, though I knew she had a strength most people never had. She reached up and patted my cheek. “You are right, James. Both of you are right. I should have put you first, not the public. Can you forgive me?”

“Of course.” I kissed her cheek.

“Good. Then I think you should both go to your rooms, James, while Simon and I discuss how things will be managed moving forward.”

“Thank you, Gran. I…”

“Hush now, James.” My grandmother hugged me—an absolute rarity since I’d waded into the teen years. She felt small, somewhat fragile in my arms. Before this moment, I hadn’t fully considered her immeasurable loss.

“I am so sorry for your loss, Gran,” I murmured.

“And I yours.” She kissed my cheek and gently pushed me toward the door. “Oh, and Presti, thank you. For being there for James when we weren’t.”

“You’re welcome,” Presti said, affecting another ungainly bow.

I took his hand and led him towards my rooms, chased by the scathing snap of my grandmother’s displeased voice as she tore Simon a new one. I’d known my gran was in there, buried beneath the stern veneer of a queen. Presti’s indignation at my treatment had broken through the royal crust straight into the heart of a granny.

“What is a cockthroppled nitwit?” I asked as my door came into view.

“A fool with an overly large Adam’s apple,” Presti answered.

My bark of laughter echoed through the hall. “Christ, I love you.”

Presti and I stayed hidden from the public for three days. We wrapped each other in our own small world while chaos swirled around us. Everybody, every single person, it felt like, had seen what happened between us at my father’s casket. Rumours spun about us like a tempest.

We stayed silent, said nothing, and offered no comment. My grandmother kept away; my mother poked her head in, her eyes red-rimmed, and offered her support. Hannah stopped by and hugged me and told me she was so glad I had someone before her tears fell again, and she returned to George’s side.

George… Well, he didn’t die, but he didn’t seem to heal either. He remained stuck in a coma.

Through this terrible time, I bore it as best as I could with Presti at my side. He stayed in my rooms and came to meetings about the upcoming funeral. We ate together and slept in each other’s arms. I hadn’t been brave enough to ask, but Presti told me he’d stay as long as I needed him.

In my head, that meant forever. I didn’t tell him that though. But now that my great secret was out, I had no intention of letting Presti go again. What that meant and how our lives would look moving forward, I didn’t know. I knew Presti had somehow become as necessary to me as breathing.

We didn’t follow any media coverage about him, but I’d asked Scott, my private secretary, to keep an eye on it and keep me updated. I would not allow them to drag Presti through the mud to suit their agenda.

So far, Scott informed me that the worst they’d had to say about him was that he wasn’t filled with noble blood. Back in Kincumber, Presti’s friends and family had rallied the wagons; they said nothing to the press. Some fellow named Dominic had spoken to The Sun about an altercation between him and Presti years ago. Presti had bloodied his nose, and Dominic claimed it was for no reason. Only hours later, a second report came from Constable Dickens, who had been the officer involved. He’d made it quite clear Presti had a valid reason for hitting Dominic, alluding to something involving the treatment of animals.

In the end, Presti came out looking rather heroic.

Scott was already talking about getting Presti involved in animal welfare charities when the time was right.

But first, we had the funeral to get through.

Gran had finally relented to allow Presti into the church to sit with us. She might have shown her heart after the disaster at the princes’ vigil, but she was still the queen. Presti wouldn’t be allowed—and he didn’t want to—walk behind the coffin with me. He’d only met my father once, and neither of us thought his presence behind the cortege was a good idea.

Knowing he’d be waiting for me at the church was all I needed.

Mum had been fantastic, putting her foot down about Presti with Gran. I’d heard her scream that it was her husband’s funeral, and she’d have at least some things the way she wanted. Despite my apologies for causing more drama at an already terrible time, Mum insisted that knowing I had someone who cared about me helped make things easier for her.

Truth or lie? I thought truth, especially after the few times I’d caught her watching Presti and me with the slightest grin.

“Have I thanked you for coming all this way to be with me?” I asked. Presti’s head rested on my lap; my fingers slid through his curls, and he drew circles on my leg.

“Many times.”

“Well, it bears repeating. Your life…” I couldn’t articulate how his life would change after this; I didn’t have the words. “It’ll never be the same,” I finished lamely.

“I know, James.” Presti sighed, sat up, and took my hand in his. “But I don’t care. I had a plan for my life. Goals. And I can still reach those goals. The path will just be a little different. You might think I’m giving up my privacy for you, James, but I know you are worth it.”

Presti had said a variation of these sentiments several times over the last few days, yet I found it hard to believe it to be true. How could I be worth it?

“James? James, are you there?” Mum called now. Shouting in the palace was quite unlike her, and if she hadn’t sounded so happy, I might have thought something terrible had happened—again. Presti and I stood.

“Here, Mum. What’s happening?”

“It’s George. He’s awake.” Mum barrelled into the room, collecting me in a furious hug. “He’s awake and grumbling about being hungry.”

“He’s okay. He’s okay if he’s complaining about food.” The happiness in my voice felt surreal, given my father’s funeral was tomorrow. But my brother was okay. He was okay.

“Hannah said he’s the same giant bellend he ever was.” Mum kissed my cheek and squeezed me tight.

“Thank god,” I whispered. “Oh, thank god.”

“Wonderful news,” Presti said with a smile on his perfect lips as he watched Mum and I dance about.

“Get over here, Presti,” Mum sang, waving him toward us.

He came. He’d come because I knew he’d do anything for me. Mum dragged him into our arms, the three of us awkwardly hugging. None of us cared how we looked. We were too damn happy.

“Should we go to the hospital?” I asked.

“I’ve ordered the car. Are you both ready?” Mum asked.

“Should I—”

“Yes, you bloody well should,” Mum cut Presti off before he could finish his thought. “You’re in this family now, Presti.”

Her words should terrify me. They should have horrified Presti, but instead, we turned to each other, sharing a smile.

“Okay. Well, yes, then let’s go,” he said.

Though still weakened by his ordeal, George looked better than I’d allowed myself to hope. Groggy from his medication, he still managed to take in Presti’s presence and what it meant. He made a lame joke but smiled happily at us.

George hadn’t yet been told about our father’s death. Hannah and the medical staff managed to distract him from those thoughts until we arrived. Unlike me, who’d heard about it from Scott, Mum wanted to be the one to inform George.

Dad’s death would affect George in a different way from me. Instead of being decades away, George’s ascent to the throne would be only years, though sometimes I thought Gran might live forever.

At least George wanted this life. He’d rise to the occasion. He’d do his duty. And I would be there to help him. Knowing this didn’t sadden me anymore; I didn’t feel quite so overwhelmed by my life.

Because things had changed, the world knew about me, about Presti, and it hadn’t stopped spinning. The world hadn’t ended because I liked men—loved this man.

Before I could dwell on these thoughts, Mum entered the room after she consulted with George’s doctors. She’d wanted to be sure he was strong enough to handle the news about Dad.

She made a beeline to George’s side, her gaze catching mine as she passed. Her eyes shone with fear because of the terrible task ahead of her.

“What did the doctors say, Mum?” George asked.

“They said you are doing remarkably well, George,” she replied, kissing the back of his hand.

“Well, of course. Was there any doubt? I am remarkable, after all.”

My brother. Nothing wrong with his self-esteem.

Hannah offered a little groan, though the smile on her face at George’s recovery couldn’t be wiped away. Presti chuckled at my side, though his hand gripped mine tighter.

Thank god he was here. I didn’t know how I’d get through this without him. Luckily, I didn’t have to.

“George, honey,” Mum began, “I’m afraid I have some awful news though.”

George tried to sit a little higher, squirming as best he could with all the tubes and cords attached to his body. “What?”

“Do you remember much of the accident?”

“Nothing.” George screwed his face up, his brows low over his eyes as he tried to recall the helicopter crash. “The last thing I remember—oh god. Dad. Dad was with me.”

George’s gaze flicked around the room, landing on each of us. Seeing the grief in each of us had to warn George of what was to come.

“He was, honey,” Mum murmured. “And I’m afraid your father…didn’t make it, George. His injuries…” Tears trickled down my mother’s cheeks, her words trailing away, leaving George to fill in the rest.

“He’s dead?” George asked in utter disbelief.

“Yes,” I answered when the silence lingered too long. “I’m sorry, George, but Dad died at the scene.”

George wilted under the weight of the news. Mum held one hand; Hannah held his other. I kept a hand on Mum’s shoulder. George turned watery eyes to his wife. “I’m sorry, Hannah. I know this is much sooner—”

“George,” Hannah whispered. “Don’t you dare worry about me right now. I’m going to be okay… We’re going to be okay. The only thing for you to focus on right now is getting better and mourning your father.”

George wept. Quiet tears tracked over his cheeks as Hannah hugged him, careful of his injuries. Mum whispered soft words to him.

And me. I had Presti, who wrapped me up in his arms, rested his chin on my shoulder, and whispered that I’d be okay too and that he loved me.

We’d said those three words a lot over the last few days, but they never failed to take my breath away. Would they ever not surprise me?

Several hours later, we left to give my brother some rest. He’d been furiously sad at having to miss our father’s funeral tomorrow. So distressed that Mum had called his doctors to see what could be done.

As a result, George would be there at the abbey, in a hospital bed with a doctor and two nurses in tow. The doctors refused to allow him to attend any other way, so George accepted, even though he hated the idea of the public seeing him so vulnerable.

He’d shed more tears when we talked about me and other family members walking behind Dad’s coffin from the palace to the abbey. I told him I’d make him proud. He’d said he had no doubt of that, and then I’d cried.

Through it all, Presti stood at my side. A quiet sentinel, supporting me so ably in such terrible circumstances.

And the worst of it was I knew once the press got over the heir’s death, they’d turn their full and nasty attention on Presti.

*

SWEAT POOLED AT the base of my spine as I walked behind my father’s coffin on this unseasonably hot day. My legs were heavy, like they’d been filled with concrete. It felt as if I’d been walking for hours. Throngs of mourners lined the Mall, quiet with their heads bowed as we passed by.

Nobody cheered or waved flags, unlike so many other occasions I’d been here for. No one reached out to grab my hand. Though I felt their eyes on me, I believed these people grieved with me. Some of them might hate me after a respectable time had elapsed since my father’s death, but today, I felt they were here to show their sorrow. I felt as if they cared about me. At least for today.

Presti had sent me away with a kiss this morning. The lingering feel of his lips on mine and the warmth of his strong body were the only things helping me put one foot in front of the other.

Fighting to keep tears at bay, I nonetheless allowed myself memories of my father. Moments we’d shared, both private and public, accompanied me on my long walk. Happy snippets of moments when we’d laughed together, lessons he’d taught me about being a royal, a man. The joy he’d found in the pages of his many books.

Though far from perfect, my father was a good man. He hadn’t deserved to lose his life so young. His life had been full; he’d travelled so far and met so many, yet he’d still miss out on so much.

Grandchildren. So many birthdays and Christmases. My wedding.

He wouldn’t be there to stand beside me during the coming storm of my outing. He wouldn’t have the chance to get to know Presti, to see what an amazing man I’d chosen for myself.

I’d miss him terribly.

Soon enough, we reached the Abbey. The pallbearers did a magnificent job of carrying my father’s coffin inside. I didn’t think I was the only one holding my breath, praying they didn’t drop it.

We marched solemnly down the aisle of the Abbey. Before I knew it, Presti’s sweet face appeared. He gripped my hand as I moved to stand at his side. I wondered if the cameras caught it and then berated myself for thinking of something so inane at this time.

Off to the side and further back, George lay, slightly propped up in his bed. He should have been front row and centre, but at least he was there. I knew the service back to front, so I let my mind wander to more memories of my father.

He’d spent his life fulfilling his duty, and it had killed him. The crash was an accident, and accidents happen every single day. But, to me, all I could think was if we weren’t royal, my father would never have been in that helicopter. What-ifs were useless though. My father had given his life to the crown.

As I thought about how he’d lost everything important because of his royal life, I became more determined I wouldn’t do the same.