“Proposed sham marriage to a duke.”
As if it’s a totally normal discussion. People talk about sham marriages all the time.
“Yes, and”—Mamma’s stare is piercing now—“I fail to see how this can get even more outlandish than it is already. Or help. Or did sense kick in?”
“Definitely, definitely, not sense.” I try to look demure.
She sighs. “Out with it. I need to know how to help you manage this situation if any part of it comes out.”
I squeak. “Mamma?—”
“All of it.”
“Okay, fine.” I hold my hands up. “You remember the whole yacht-sinking thing?—”
“The stuff of nightmares, yes.” Mamma nods, looking entirely resigned now. She leans an arm against her writing desk as if she needs it for support, despite her perfect posture.
“Sooo I was kind of involved with the Greek prince—for a minute—” I stop her before she starts in on me, anxiety rising. “All kinds of awkward, I know. Especially after what happened. But… Mamma, I fell in love with him.”
If only I could stuff those words back in my mouth. In fact, I cover my mouth in shock. What did I just say?
Then we’re both staring at each other.
“And before you say anything else, Eddie—” I blurt as my face blazes.
“Eddie?”
“Yes, the duke, remember?” I cough. “He suspected I had real feelings for someone else. Don’t ask me how he figured it out.”
“Which interfered with your fake arrangement?” she asks carefully.
“You’re getting into the spirit of things now,” I say proudly. Despite the outrageousness of the scheme, she’s following along admirably. “Apparently, it did. So we broke up, for real.”
“And the Greek prince? Where does he fit here?”
I hold up a hand. “Nothing is happening with him.”
She frowns. “Why not?”
“God, plenty of reasons, Mamma. Not least of all, the last time I fell in love with someone, it ended up in Hello! and as tabloid fodder.”
“Aidan was a bad man.”
I laugh. “Yeah. A real bad man. And—well, believe me, Stef doesn’t feel that way about me. He’s secretly seeing some guy named François. Secretly, because his family doesn’t know he’s gay, and he doesn’t want to tell them. End of. And then I become King. Finis. Game over.”
We consider each other in the thick silence. A clock ticks.
Mamma rubs her eyes with a hand. “I’m going to need a drink, I fear.”
“We’ll find you a nice aperitif before lunch,” I assure her. “I could totally use one too.” I sag back in my chair, crossing my leg over my knee. I fidget with the silver buckle of my oxblood shoe. The familiar ache in my chest comes as I think of Stef. “Also, please—you can tell no one about any of this. Especially about Stef. He’s very private. Unlike some of us.”
“Believe me, I will go to my grave without sharing this information with anyone.” But she gives me a wry smile and a pat on the knee, and we sit in the quiet for a long moment before facing the entire royal life waiting for me.
Chapter Fifty-Two
By the time July rolls around, I’ve been officially proclaimed King Theodor of Denmark, or specifically His Majesty the King, Count of Oldenburg, as Mamma predicted. If I thought public interest was real before, and the paparazzi’s too, it’s a whole new level now. Even for Copenhagen and Denmark.
Freja went back to America a couple of weeks after my Proclamation. People have packed up my clothes and brought them to me. A few personal effects were left behind in my London flat, along with my furniture for now, following the chaos of the announcement of Freja’s abdication and my ascension to the throne. The immediate shock’s wearing off. I’m starting to find my legs at the palace. Even so, I’m not ready yet to sell my London flat.
