Rolling my eyes, I took myself back to my desk. Every person in the room followed me with their gaze even as I plonked intomy seat. No way would they let this go, so I might as well get the questioning over with.
“If you want the story, drinks after work,” I announced.
James cheerfully volunteered, “I’ll buy the first round.”
My eyes cut to him. He was not to be trusted in this mood. “You’re just going to brag.”
“With you, my love, there’s a great deal to brag about.”
I would be tomato red the rest of the day at this rate. “Will you please just sign that damn report?”
He cackled like a mad hen and put pen to paper.
It was too early in the relationship for me to want to strangle him. Right?
Princess Helena sailed through the door, already chiding her brother. “James, really, stop teasing Edwin. You’re so giddy you’ve become silly with it.”
James noticeably did not disagree and signed the report with a flourish. “What brings you here, Helena?”
“You said you had a plan,” she reminded him. “I want to speak to you and Edwin about it.”
Eh? Me?
My confusion must have shown on my face because Helena said, “Remember? My plan to get rid of my fiancé. I want you on my side for this.”
Ah,that. Yes, it was time to follow up now that our spies had gathered all the information. At first, I hadn’t been sure which plan because we were juggling so many balls in the air.
James stood and rounded his desk, where he reclined against the front, ankles crossed, and made a single, sharp clap. “Everyone, a moment.”
Like he hadn’t already had everyone’s attention.
“My sister, as you know, is in a dire predicament. We are going to help her out of it. Several informants have given me information”—he inclined his head toward Stedman—“and sohas Helena. Now it’s time to put all our good intel into practice. Namely, I think it’s time to throw a nice luncheon party to help her ‘celebrate.’”
I eyed him suspiciously. “Just how badly are you going to destroy Gillespie?”
He grinned mischievously. “Badly.”
Princess Helena clapped in delight. “Good! I hoped we had enough to do so. He’s just got such thick armor around him, what with his parents and my mother on his side.”
“Ah, but not your father, not completely.” James held up a finger, still smirking. “And I can sway your father very, very well to our side. He doesn’t trust your mother’s matchmaking skills anyway, so this won’t be a hard sell. I think a luncheon with lots and lots of witnesses will do the trick nicely. Everyone knows Gillespie is a simpleton, but they think he’s harmless. Once they realize just how corrupt he is, the opinion about marrying you off to a buffoon will flip immediately.”
I had no doubt he was right. Already, people spoke unhappily about the union, feeling like the country’s only princess could do far better in her marriage. Only Marchioness Gillespie and Queen Beatrice were happy, making them very much in the minority.
Another man quickly entered the room. He looked familiar to me, somehow, although I couldn’t place him. Which was strange, as I was quite good with names and faces. He looked very…normal. Average height for a man, not skinny, not overweight, copper skin with a day laborer’s clothes covering everything but his face and hands. Even his face was half covered by a cap pulled low over his eyes.
James turned his head, spying him, and said, “Ah, Tremon, what brings you here?”
“Urgent news,” Tremon explained with a bow to both James and Princess Helena. “You need to move tonight, Your Highness.”
James abruptly straightened to speak with him more head-on. “Why, what’s happened?”
“I—” Tremon abruptly stopped and gave everyone a wary look.
In that second, my mind put it together. Tremon. I knew the name; it was written in James’s book as one of the spies following Gillespie. Shit, if he was here, something truly had happened.
“Everyone in this room is trustworthy,” James assured him. “In fact, before you leave, let me introduce you to them. If I’m not available, report to them. Everyone, this is Tremon, my personal spy. He normally covers issues like corporate espionage, but I pulled him to have him follow Gillespie, just in case. All right, Tremon, what the hell did the idiot do now?”
“It’s a combination of idiots,” Tremon corrected, grimacing. “I unfortunately didn’t hear the full conversation, but Prince Victor and Gillespie met in a rather, er”—his eyes flashed to Princess Helena in apology—“unsavory place last night and got to talking. Prince Victor directed Lord Gillespie to bring a certain young lady to him by tonight.”
