“And you used to be more careful with yourself,” I told him softly, looking at one of my oldest friends with a look of understanding.
They had lost their mother almost eight years ago to a brain aneurysm. One moment the queen had been there, a leader in women’s and omega’s rights, and then she was gone.
The princes had never been the same and their already wild behavior had just gotten worse after that. That was something we now had in common.
“I didn’t come here to cry on your shoulder, Lennon,” Henry told me loftily, avoiding the sensitive topic completely. “Nor didI come here to be scolded. My father’s already hired a team for that and they are very good at their jobs.”
“Oh?” I asked as the party continued to ramp up around us. There was even a group in the corner of the garden that was beginning to sing what sounded like a sea shanty together.
I frowned. Why were they seemingly getting drunker?
I glanced at a nearby waiter. “They were supposed to cut the alcohol…”
Henry grinned at my confusion. “The duke is famous for, what do you Americans call it? BYOB?”
I gawked at him. “You’re kidding me.”
“He’s not,” Arthur said, speaking for the first time since they’d approached me. “I think he’s even brought a keg.”
“Shit,” I cursed, already thinking about the headline on the news tomorrow.
‘PRESIDENT’S DAUGHTER THROWS ‘RAGER’ AT THE WHITE HOUSE AMIDST BUSTLE OF ELECTION.’
That could not happen. I told my mother that I could handle this dinner on my own and I’d be damned if some drunk noble with a tie tied around his head was going to wreck that for me.
I turned to Henry. “You have to help me get them into their cars and back to their hotels. They can party all they like there, but they will not be doing that here.”
“And what’s in it for me?” Henry asked, wagging his eyebrows as his eyes dipped to my chest which I immediately covered with my hands.
“Eww, you’re so gross. We’re basically siblings, Henry,” I hissed at him.
“Siblings who’ve kissed before?” Henry asked, his golden brows drawing together. “I know you’re an American but…”
I put my hand over his mouth before he could continue, my eyes darting over to Dallas and Brooks who had definitely heard him.
Henry’s gaze followed mine and his blue eyes lit up with excitement.
“Don’t you even dare,” I whispered, putting as much venom into my voice as I could possibly muster up in my panic. “Or else I’ll sell those pictures of you in full drag to the British tabloids. Remember Good Queen Bess, Henry?”
It had been a dare he’d lost when we were all teenagers and I knew exactly where the singular polaroid I’d taken of him in his Queen Elizabeth the first drag was in my bedroom.
Henry gawked at me. “You wouldn’t.”
“Oh, I for sure would. Now help me or everyone will know that their future king looks damned good in a pair of fishnet stockings.”
“She got you good there, brother,” Edwin said as he tried to hold back his laughter.
We stared each other down for a moment, neither breaking, until Henry sighed.
“You win, as usual, Lennon,” Henry finally gave in, holding his hands up in surrender. “And if I had a white flag on me, I’d be waving it very solemnly.”
“Good, now let’s get these guys into cars and keep your hands to yourself. Carter said if you try to touch me he’ll chop off your hands and throw them into the Boston Harbor.”
“What is it with you Bostonians and throwing things into that damned harbor?” Henry asked as he and his brothers followed, ready to wrangle a bunch of drunk British diplomats into the nearest vehicle before we ended up on CNN in the morning.
“Is that the last of them?” I asked Arthur as I stood in the center of the now empty garden.
The staff were working on cleaning up after the boisterous party guests and as I looked at the garbage everywhere I had half of a mind to tell my mother to never invite the UK delegates to the White House ever again.
