Chapter Thirty-Four

I didn’t want to go. I desperately wanted to go. This dinner was my worst nightmare. It was my biggest opportunity.

Okay. I had some mixed feelings about heading to the palace for a private dinner with the Queen and my siblings. Who could blame me?

It had been Thea’s idea, obviously. She had told me, in no uncertain terms, on the drive back from the Château de Dréuvar, that the dinner was happening and I was going.

Of course, I wanted to throw it all back in her face. Her and Nick showing up at Dréuvar had ruined all my plans. Christian hadn’t responded to further calls or emails, which meant he had been nearby or had someone reporting on things for him, telling him that the cavalry had ridden to my “rescue.” Yes, I was still angry. If Christian wasn’t caught, then all the upheaval in my life had been for nothing.

Thea had also asked if I could muster up a modicum of surprise when Gran made the big announcement at the dinner about Thea’s succession to the throne.

Little did she know how good I was at keeping secrets.

I still hadn’t figured out what I was going to do…about revealing my Cordelia Lancaster and Clémence Diederich identities, and I knew that clock was ticking. Sybil was right, it would be better coming from me and Christian could blow the whistle at any time, but I still wanted a few more days of normalcy. Maybe I could see Sophie and Henry and Felice one more time before they learned of my betrayals.

“I won’t lie to Sophie and Henry about the succession,” I told her, filled with guilt about all the other lies I was sort-of telling. “And Henry has leave to come?” Our brother flew planes for NATO, wearing the uniform of our military with valor and distinction. I’d always been proud—not only of his service, but that he’d found something that he loved to do, and so effortlessly, too.

Thea nodded. “He always has leave when Big Gran says he does.”

That put a sour taste back in my mouth. Here we were, all of us, having to jump whenever duty called. The rebellious side of me wanted to ask Thea if she would be just as demanding when she was crowned. If she would require our presence at ribbons and trophies and unveilings and other necessary events of civilization.

Why do you care? You’re not even officially a part of this family anymore, came the petty voice from inside my head. And you definitely won’t be once the truth comes out.

So I kept my mouth shut and ignored all the complicated feelings that came with being on the fringes of the Laurent family.

But I had one more person I needed to know about.

“…Will Hugh be there?” I asked.

“He still works for the palace,” Thea reminded me. “And he’s a vital part of my staff, I need him to train his replacement and, honestly, Caroline, that is a little bit more important than whatever it is you two are doing.”

“His replacement?”

“He’s retiring from national service in April.” Thea responded carefully, but the subtext was blaring: He didn’t tell you???

“Oh,” was all I said.

“He’s got fifteen years and, like most law enforcement professionals, he’d like to retire before he’s completely broken by the job. Plus, I know he has his businesses to focus on, but I think it’s not unfair of me to say that I wish he’d stay longer.” Thea made a regretful face. “I don’t think we’re too awful to work for.”

“So he’s just going to become a businessman?” I asked, again striving for nonchalance, but I was either terrible at it or, more likely, my sister saw right through me.

“You two haven’t talked about this? About the future?”

“Why would we?”

“I guess it’s not serious, then?”

“No, of course not.” Liar.

“That’s a relief.”

“What?”

“You’ve just lost the love of your life. And Hugh is a good, solid man. I just wouldn’t want him to get hurt.”

Ouch. But this time, I was better at hiding my feelings. Or maybe Thea didn’t care about them. “How nice to hear he has businesses,” I said brightly. “What sort are they?”

Thea waved a hand. “All kinds, I think. He’s very involved in investing in Koras, started years ago when he first left the army. I think he started out with renovating properties, working with local shopkeepers and offering them fair rents. I keep asking him to advise the economic development council, but he refuses. Says it would be a security risk.” Thea smiled ruefully. “Although I think he just likes to stay in the background. Some men are like that, you know. They want a quiet existence with no one ever noticing how impressive they are.”

I let that all sink in, trying to ignore the churning feeling in my stomach. “Well, that is all very nice,” I said again. “Good for him.”

Thankfully, Thea didn’t press me or bring up any additional pieces of information that made me feel two inches tall for the rest of the ride. I was dropped off at the Hotel Ilysium, and Thea and the rest of the palace vehicles zoomed off toward the palace.

Leaving me to prepare for the dinner from hell all by myself.

Four gowns waited for me in my suite. There was a small card.

Thea said you didn’t have time to go shopping with me. Next time, you’re buying. Xoxo Sophie

The sweetness of the gesture unlocked a little of the reservation I had about going back to the palace. What was I nervous about, anyway? This was my family! My baby sister, my twin brother. They had my back. It would be fine.

Still, I stood and stared at the four evening gowns for longer than was necessary. Picking out what to wear had never been a traumatic experience for me. Not to brag, but I had been listed on multiple international best-dressed lists throughout the last decade. The door to the bedroom opened and Hugh came in, freshly showered and changed back into his security guard suit.

“Oh…” I breathed. Gone was the thermal T-shirt and wool sweater and jeans he’d been wearing while he was on “sabbatical” and chasing Christian down across Europe with me…

He came closer. I couldn’t help myself and reached out to touch his face. “You shaved…” Gone was the piratical auburn mustache, the beard that had felt both soft and rough against my skin.

“Vacation’s over,” he explained as he looked me over in my thick white hotel robe. “Are you nervous?”

I managed a self-conscious laugh. “How can you tell?”

“I can tell,” he said simply, and he pulled me into his arms.

Hmmm. “Magical bodyguard senses,” I guessed.

“No.” He nuzzled me and I felt warm. Seen. “When you’re feeling confident, you move quickly. When you’re feeling unsure or hesitant, you spend a lot of time in bathrobes.”

I shook my head. I wasn’t sure that was true at all. “I’d like to take this bathrobe off right now,” I murmured. “But my presence is required shortly at the palace.” I added those last words like someone had asked me to describe cockroach mating practices.

“Did you and your sister talk yet?” he asked, and I could tell that it was important to him. He and Thea respected each other, were even friends of a type. My sister’s words floated back to me.

Hugh is a good, solid man. I just wouldn’t want him to get hurt.

“Actually, we talked about you,” I replied lightly. “And your upcoming retirement.”

“Mmmhm,” he said as he kissed me under my ear.

“I didn’t know,” I continued, “about how much you’re looking forward to being in the private sector.”

“I’ve never heard it called that before,” he said with a slyness that made me giggle, even though I knew he was avoiding my indirect inquiries. Hugh spun me around and tucked my back into his chest so that now we could both stare listlessly at the four dresses my baby sister had thoughtfully bought for me. “Sophie did well,” he said, his voice rumbling against my back.

“Don’t tell me that you knew she picked out these dresses because she prefers pink or you know which boutiques she shops at on Fridays.”

He laughed. “No. I saw the delivery slip earlier.”

Oh. I twined my fingers with his and drew them across my body like a seat belt. “Which one should I wear?” I asked, because I was curious about which he’d prefer.

“You’d look beautiful in all of them.”

“That’s a very safe answer,” I replied drily. “And thank you. Now pick.”

He untangled himself from me, walked to the dress rack and selected a dress. It was floor-length, like the rest of them, with long sleeves, like the others. But this one had a daring deep V-neck—more risqué than I’d ever worn in the Queen’s presence before.

“Done,” I said quickly. “But you have to tell me, why did you pick this one?”

“Two reasons,” he said, bringing me back the dress in its padded white silk hanger. “It matches your eyes.”

The color was deep forest green. Not quite my eye color, but I was, of course, flattered by the comparison. “And?” I pressed as I untied my robe and revealed the feminine black undergarments I had already put on.

His eyes darkened, his Adam’s apple bobbed. “It looks good on the floor.” I was in his arms before the dress floated to the carpet.

I was escorted to Big Gran’s private gold dining room (not to be confused with the formal gold dining room—you know you’re rich when you have two gold dining rooms). Hugh left me in the hallway—for private family functions, the security stayed outside—with a squeeze of my fingers. And when I hesitated to walk through the wide double doors, for an instant I saw what Hugh—or other guards—must see when they watched me.

When you’re feeling confident, you move quickly. When you’re feeling unsure or hesitant, you spend a lot of time in bathrobes.

It was a lot to think about. Maybe I’d have to go to therapy to puzzle out whether that statement was true. Or maybe I’d just let Hugh explain me to me. He had certainly proved to be an expert in the subject.

Feeling those eyes upon me, I lifted my chin, took a steadying breath and quickly stepped over the threshold into Big Gran’s dining room of doom.

I was immediately tackled from my left. “Caroline!” Sophie squealed. “Oh!” After she finished squeezing me, she stepped back and examined my dress. “You picked the green!” Her eyes lit up. “Of course you did, you’re an international femme fatale with a dangerous, tragic past now.”

“Sophie. Really?” my brother chided her in an exasperated tone. I turned and saw my handsome brother. Taller than the rest of us, with sharp, perfect bone structure and his blond hair cut precisely, he was dressed in a black dinner jacket and casual navy pants better suited for weekend sailing. It was like, if he wasn’t in uniform, he really didn’t know what to wear. Most people in the palace accepted that about him—after all, he was in the military. No one would criticize his fashion choices off-duty.

Except I knew the truth. When he bent down to kiss my cheek, I murmured, “No black pants in your closet?”

“Of course there were,” he whispered back. “They came with the coat.”

See, no one supplied a royal prince with one half of a suit. Henry did this on purpose. He had a private secretary at the palace and his measurements were on file with at least three tailors in the city and probably one in London and in Paris. He had access to all the proper princely clothes, had people to order a fully bespoke wardrobe. But for some reason, for years, he rejected those particular royal expectations in this small, silly way, which garnered no repercussions for him.

Now why couldn’t I have followed his lead? Picked some innocuous, easily explained method of rebellion? No, instead, I had to run off and marry the first race car driver who knew how to kiss properly.

Maybe Sophie was right. Maybe I was an international femme fatale.

Just like Mother.

I gave my head a gentle shake. I couldn’t get caught up in deep thoughts about matriarchal DNA tonight. I needed to stay present. On my toes. Because the show was about to start.

Sophie was still squabbling with Henry. “I said she looked beautiful—I don’t know what I did wrong.” She linked her arm through mine. “And there’s nothing wrong with a dramatic entrance,” she informed me with a very serious air. “It’s something I always strive for.”

“God, Sophie, you’re so full of it,” Henry said into the whiskey he had been gulping like he was a man in the middle of a whiskey-free desert.

“And you’re such a curmudgeon,” Sophie threw back. “Why are you so cranky tonight? Is it because of that American actress who’s got her hooks in you?”

“Who?” Henry looked genuinely confused.

“The one at the Beyoncé concert?” I helpfully supplied.

But Henry’s eyes remained blank. “Sorry. I still have no idea what she’s yammering on about.”

Sophie clucked. “I suppose there are so many American actresses, he can’t keep them all straight. Oh, the joy of being an eligible European prince these days. Meanwhile, I have to practically throw myself at men to get them interested.”

Henry sighed, as if he were in pain. “Does anyone need a refill?”

“I don’t even have a drink yet,” I said.

My brother widened his eyes. “Oh, no. We can’t have that. You must be properly prepared for the evening. Champagne, or something stronger?”

“My usual,” I said.

“Straight up vodka with a Xanax chaser—excellent choice.” He turned to fetch me a drink like a thoughtful brother who wanted to escape a baby sister who insisted on saying inappropriate things.

“I don’t have a drink either!” Sophie nearly shouted at his back.

“Shh…” I hushed her, but then started to laugh. The impulse had been an old habit, nurtured during a lifetime of being quiet and obedient on occasions such as this. Strange how it came back and resettled in my skin so quickly. “Never mind,” I said to Sophie. “Make all the noise you want.”

Sophie had a curious look in her eye. “You’re different. I’m sorry I was so flippant earlier. About…your annus horribilus. You know I say things I don’t mean, but you do have a certain air to you.”

“It’s the dress. It’s gorgeous. Thank you,” I said sincerely as I remembered the man who had helped me fasten the back of it. The way his rough hands had glided against the smooth silk.

“You’re blushing,” Sophie observed. “It’s more than the dress, then. Good. You’re too young to hide away and mourn Awful Stavros…” She opened her mouth and put her hand against it. “I did it again. I’m sorry.”

I wasn’t angry. “He wasn’t awful,” I said softly. “We had a good run, but I’m not sure we would have stayed together forever.” I thought of the divorce attorney Stavros had contacted in Paris. How I hadn’t been mad when I’d found out. I tried not to wonder if the hackers knew about that, too, and if that private bit of information would soon be plastered on every gossip site.

“I heard things…” Sophie let that hang out there, and it was enough. Of course, she’d heard things. The circles of jetsetters were fairly small, even with all the access to private jets. And she’d hear more, if I continued to have any sort of life. People couldn’t control themselves.

But then Henry came with the drinks, deftly handing a Martini to me and a glass of champagne to Sophie while juggling his whiskey.

“You do love me,” Sophie sighed. “Because you could have had a footman bring these over but instead you did it yourself.”

“I forgot about the footmen.” Henry swore with a grimace, and I laughed because of course he hadn’t forgotten. He did love us enough to bring our alcohol himself—and if that wasn’t love, what was?

“Does anyone know why we’re here?” Sophie asked, after a few sips of champagne. “I feel like something terrible’s about to happen.”

Henry frowned. “Like what?”

Sophie shrugged. “I don’t know. I just have a feeling.”

And right at that moment the doors opened and the stars of the evening entered. Our grandmother, the Queen, had even worn her largest tiara, with matching earrings and choker.

Sophie caught my eye. Yes, it was that serious.

Thea smiled when she saw me and made a discreet wave with her fingers, directing me to her and Gran. “You’re on, sis,” Henry said, hiding his mouth behind his glass.

“Don’t fuck up,” Sophie managed to say while keeping a wide smile on her face.

When you’re feeling confident, you move quickly.

Without the slightest bit of hesitation, I went to greet my Queen.

Thea faded into the background with all the innate grace of a princess and the skill of a ninja.

And it was just me. And the woman who had thrown me out of the family.