Chapter Eight

Has Prince Benedict of York finally returned to the UK?

Though Benedict has made a name for himself as a fixture in the London nightlife scene over the past year, he's been conspicuously missing in action since July. After weeks of questions from his loyal fans, Buckingham Palace finally released a statement in August announcing that the nineteen-year-old had decided to spend the rest of his summer—and the following autumn, putting off his acceptance to the University of St Andrews for another term—at an undisclosed wildlife sanctuary in Kenya. Though the prince has always been known for his love of animals, the trip was reportedly unannounced due to security concerns after the intense media scrutiny focused on the royal family over the summer.

But the third in line to the throne was spotted at Heathrow this morning with his mother, Venetia, Duchess of York, as the pair left the airport's private Windsor Suite. Are the prince and his mother expected at the reportedly ultra-low-key royal family gathering at Sandringham this year? The ex-wife of the Duke of York has never missed a Christmas, even in the midst of their contentious divorce, and it's no surprise that His Royal Highness has decided to make the arduous journey back for the holidays, given his close relationship with Princess Mary. After months apart, we've no doubt that their reunion will be full of good cheer.

—TheRegal Record, 23 December 2023

I SPIN AROUND AND PRESS my back to the wall, my heart racing as a picture frame digs into my side.

Ben is here.

Ben knows I'm here.

And if he doesn't know about my mom yet, he will soon enough.

Maisie grabs my wrist and yanks me farther into the corridor, clear of the inhospitable drawing room and Ben's unnerving stare. "Did you see him?" she whispers.

I nod and do my best to swallow the panic rising in me like bile. "Why is he here? How is he here? I thought—"

"Ah, there you all are. I was beginning to wonder."

The three of us turn toward the drawing room together, and my insides churn for real this time, threatening to expel the ice cream I can still taste.

Ben stands in the doorway, his hands in the pockets of his navy blazer. He smiles like nothing ever happened, like we're one big, happy family reuniting for the holidays, and as his blue eyes settle on me, a shiver runs down my spine.

"Benedict," says Kit with more self-control than I've ever possessed in my life. "I was under the impression you weren't coming to Sandringham this year."

Ben shrugs. "Mummy insisted I join her. You know how she is," he adds with what I used to think was charming geniality. "Once she has her mind set on something, there's no talking her out of it."

"I'm sure you could've come up with an excuse," says Maisie, sugary venom dripping from every word. "Like maybe the fact that none of us wants you here. His Majesty hasn't forgotten what you did, and rest assured, neither have we."

Hurt flickers across his face, so real I almost feel sorry for him. But he's Ben. He's the one who tried to ruin my life—who could still ruin Maisie's with a single slip of the tongue—and even after all these months, I still have no idea why.

"I did some terrible things over the summer," he says. "Awful things I'll never be able to erase. And I know I don't deserve a second chance, but if you'd all be willing to indulge me for a moment…especially you, Evan."

He gestures toward the drawing room, where the adults are gathered. I shrink back, a sour taste in my mouth, but before I can refuse, Maisie cuts in.

"We don't need your fake apologies, Benedict. We need you to leave."

"And I will," he says. "Right after Christmas. Please—this won't take long, and it'll save me from trying to explain the details of this whole mess to Mummy."

Inexplicably, this seems to be the thing that thaws Maisie's stubbornness, and she and Kit exchange a look I don't understand. "Fine," she snaps. "But in five minutes, we're all leaving."

"What?"I say, stunned she's given in so easily. Before I can properly protest, however, Maisie loops her arm in mine and yanks me forward, and it's all I can do to keep my balance as she drags me after Ben and into the white drawing room.

As soon as we step over the threshold—or, in my case, stumble and nearly face-plant on the rug—the hum of conversation falls silent, and all eyes are on us. I'm not surprised that Alexander's expression is a mixture of fury and concern, or that Constance's and Helene's are impossible to read. But the worry written on Nicholas's face is disconcerting, and Venetia…

Venetia, Duchess of York, Ben's mother and Nicholas's ex-wife, is looking at me like we're standing outside a chocolate factory, and I'm her golden ticket in.

"Evangeline!" she cries, rising to her feet and crossing the room in her towering heels. "At last. It's such a pleasure, my darling."

I stand stock-still as she presses her lips to my cheeks in a double kiss, and when she looks me up and down, it takes everything I have not to wipe off the magenta lipstick stains she's undoubtedly left behind.

"Mummy," says Ben imploringly. "I have something I'd like to say to everyone."

"Oh, yes, button. Of course," says Venetia, and she winks at me like she knows exactly what's coming before bustling back to her seat.

Ben clears his throat, gazing solemnly around the room at each of us. "I appreciate your time, and I won't waste it," he begins. "It's no secret that over the summer, I was…less than my best self."

Maisie scoffs. "That's putting it mildly," she mutters, and while Ben must hear her, he doesn't look our way.

"I won't make excuses," continues Ben. "There are none, anyway, that could possibly justify my actions, particularly my treatment of Evangeline."

Though he says my name, he still doesn't give me more than a passing glance, and I'm not sure whether to be relieved or creeped out. Kit wraps his arm around my shoulders, as if he alone can stand between Ben and whatever words he's about to wield, and I let myself lean into him.

"As a member of this family—the royal family—it's easy to forget how isolated we are from the rest of the world," says Ben."Not just physically, but emotionally, too. It's always been hard for me to let strangers in, and I'll admit, I struggled to accept Evan. The entire situation was…jarring, and with Jasper's death and the fallout that happened…well." He gives a perfect imitation of a self-loathing scowl. "It made me question everything important in my life, and I became a person I wasn't proud of.

"But my time in Kenya gave me the opportunity to open up," he adds. "To relax, to forget about the pressures of being royal, and to reexamine my priorities. Those months allowed me to reflect on what I was doing with my life and how I was conducting myself in the name of this family, and all I felt was shame. While I know nothing will ever make up for my abysmal behavior, these few days together are my chance to show you I've changed, and I'm asking you—begging you—to let me."

It's a moving speech, or at least I think it might be if anyone else were giving it. But all I feel is the cold, hard lump of anger and bewilderment settling in the pit of my stomach, and I glance around at the others, searching for—I don't know. Support, maybe. Comradery in thinking that Ben is full of shit.

Instead, Venetia is dabbing her eyes, as if Ben has just announced his nomination for sainthood. Nicholas looks reluctantly resigned, and while Constance's expression has barely changed, the corners of her mouth are angled the slightest bit upward, which is more of a smile than I've ever seen from her before. Even Helene is studying Ben like she's contemplating his request.

Only my father and Maisie look as disdainful as I feel. But rather than tell Ben to piss off, Alexander straightens to his full height, every bit a king now as he was with President Park.

"Your behavior wasn't only unacceptable, Benedict," he says with quiet hostility that's impossible to miss. "It was a threat to this family and to the monarchy itself."

"I know," says Ben, and I swear I see him gulp. "You have every right to throw me out in the cold and slam the door, Uncle Alexander, and I don't think anyone in this room would blame you."

Venetia sniffs, and it's clear she, at least, will fight to the death to protect her monster of a son. Alexander's gaze flickers toward her, but he refocuses on Ben almost immediately and considers him for an uncomfortably long moment.

"You may be my nephew," says Alexander, "but Evangeline is my daughter. And from this moment on, you will treat her with the respect to which she's fully entitled."

"Understood," says Ben, and this time, when he looks at me, it's more than just a glance. "I'm truly sorry, Evan, for everything. I should've welcomed you into the family with open arms, and instead…" He trails off, as if he's too ashamed of the details to recount them, and I narrow my eyes.

"Instead you tried to destroy my life," I say bitingly. "You told everyone about—"

"Trust, once broken, is impossible to mend completely," says Alexander suddenly, loud enough to drown me out. "By virtue of blood, Benedict, you'll always be family. But if you want to be part of this monarchy, too, then you need to prove you're willing to uphold the values of the crown. You need to earn your role and your titles and every privilege that comes with them, and there will be no more second chances. Is that understood?"

Ben nods, seemingly abashed, but I gape at my father, too stunned for words. After everything Ben did, after every lie, every threat, every betrayal, Alexander is letting him waltz right back into our lives like it was all nothing.

"No," I blurt with such force that I take an involuntary step forward. "You know what he did, Alexander. You all know—"

"Why don't we speak outside, Evan?" says my father calmly, like I'm the one who's being unreasonable. Like he hasn't just offered a lifeline to the person who leaked the video of Jasper trying to rape me, and who might still have evidence that Maisie was the one who really killed him.

"Is this some kind of joke?" I say incredulously as Alexander strides toward me. "Or is this just good old-fashioned nepotism, and we're expected to excuse any and all toxic behavior, so long as you were born into the right family?"

I look around the room, but while Maisie is glaring at Ben, she doesn't speak up. And as Alexander joins me and sets his hand on my elbow, I peer at Kit, expecting at least some level of support. But he won't even meet my eye.

This, more than anything—more than Constance's cold stare, more than Maisie's silence, even more than Alexander's gentle attempt to guide me toward the door—is what finally makes me move. With my jaw tight and my heart racing, I jerk away from my father and storm back into the hallway. I'm not sure where I'm going, but it doesn't matter, as long as it's as far from Ben and the rest of my callous family as possible.

I make it twenty feet before I hear hurried footsteps behind me, and yet again, Alexander's hand is on my arm. "Evie—"

"Don't touch me," I snarl, whirling around to face him so quickly that he nearly runs straight into me. He hastily raises his hands and takes a step back, like I'm some wild animal threatening to rip out a chunk of his flesh.

"Evangeline," he says in a measured tone that only incenses me further. "Why don't we discuss this privately—"

"Do you not remember what he did to me? To Maisie?" I say. "Are you seriously going to forgive him just because he spent ten minutes coming up with some speech about how much he's changed? Because he hasn't, you know. You don't do the kinds of things he did and then suddenly find your moral compass because you've petted a few elephants."

"I know," says Alexander quietly. "And I would very much appreciate the opportunity to speak to you behind closed doors."

This is such a strange request that the fire fueling my rage sputters, and I still. Both Kit and Maisie linger in the corridor behind him, only a few feet from the drawing room where everyone else is still gathered, and both of them look…grim. Angry, I think. Maybe even scared.

At last, even though I have no desire to hear whatever justification Alexander's come up with, I nod stiffly. He leads me a safe distance down the hallway and into the empty dining room, and with my hands balled into fists, I take up a position near the windows, my arms crossed and my posture rigid.

Alexander waits until both Maisie and Kit have joined us, and he closes the door with a soft click. "This has nothing to do with how we may or may not feel about Ben," he says at last, his voice low and serious. "This is about making sure Venetia never discovers the details."

I blink, not sure I'm hearing him right. "Venetia? That's who you're all worried about?"

"She has the biggest mouth in the history of this family," says Maisie bitterly. "Whenever the money's getting low, she writes a new book, milking her farce of a marriage to Uncle Nicholas for all it's worth. If she finds out what really happened over the summer, then the entire world will know before the week's out."

I frown. "But she must have some idea of what went down. Ben just apologized in front of her."

"And you'll note how he took care not to mention any specifics," says Alexander. "I suspect he's told Venetia that he was unkind toward you—a bit of a bully, perhaps, or a little too aloof. But nothing that can't be forgiven in time."

"So she doesn't know Ben leaked the video of me and Jasper?" I say. "Or that he drugged my drink, or threatened Maisie, or—"

"The rule of thumb to follow with Venetia," says Alexander, "is if the press doesn't know, then neither does she."

We stand in silence for a long moment as I process this, and slowly my temper ebbs. Not completely—I'll never not be angry about what Ben's put me through, or what he could still do to my sister, or what passes for acceptable in this supposed family. But at least it isn't directed at the three of them anymore.

I let my arms drop in a show of tentative peace, if not surrender. "If she's such a blabbermouth, then why not just kick both of them out now?"

"Because," says Alexander wearily, "we can't send either of them away without informing Venetia of all that's happened. And if Ben is whispering his version of events in her ear, and she runs to the press…"

He trails off, and I look between him and Maisie. "Then we'll deny it and tell the world about every despicable thing he's done," I say, baffled that this hasn't already occurred to them. "Wasn't that the whole reason I gave that interview? So Maisie has plausible deniability if Ben ever goes public or the recording ever resurfaces?"

Alexander grimaces. "Yes," he allows. "But…"

"But what?" I press, though no one says anything. "Maisie, back me up here."

She takes a deep breath, and even from across the room, I notice her hands are trembling. "Daddy's right," she says as Kit squeezes her elbow. "Venetia's widely seen as a credible source of insider information about our family. She embellishes from time to time, but she's never outright lied about our lives, and the public knows it."

I gape at her—at both of them. "You want Ben to stay?"

"Of course not," she snaps. Her eyes are red now, and despite the ferocity in her voice, she looks like she's about to cry. "I want him gone just as badly as you do. But Ben knows too much, and this will go poorly if we force them to leave."

"And you don't think it will if he sticks around?" I say, my own anger bubbling to the surface again as I turn back to Alexander. "You're really okay with us all sleeping under the same roof?"

"No," he admits. "I've already instructed security to monitor Benedict at all times. But we'll have a better chance of controlling the narrative if he's here, where we can keep an eye on him. And, to be frank, I think more danger lies in what could—and likely would—happen if we banish him now. Not to mention the scandal it would cause."

I open and shut my mouth, momentarily speechless. "Is that what this is really about? You're going to let Ben get away with everything he did just to avoid another scandal?"

"I cannot disown him without reason—a very public reason," says my father and there's steel in his voice now. "I don't like this, either, Evan, but we're between a rock and a hard place, and certain choices must be made. Ben's entire future is wrapped up in this family, and in my allowing him to remain an active part of it. Now that we all know what he's capable of, he'll take care to earn back our trust. And until—unless—he does something truly dangerous, we must find a way to live with him."

My heart races, and I'm so furious that I can barely speak. "If something happens to one of us—to my mom—"

"Then I will destroy him," says Alexander calmly. "You have my word."

Maisie huffs. "We could just have him killed now and save everyone the trouble," she mutters.

"Only as a last resort," says Alexander, and I don't think he'sjoking.

But no matter what my father says, I know—from the look in Ben's eyes to the way he says my name to his charade of regret—that he isn't here to win us over. He didn't come back to beg forgiveness or to prove he loves us after all.

Ben is here for revenge. And I refuse to let him have it.