Before long, we’ve reconvened in the private room at the back of the pub Ethan booked for us. Miles is outside in the main pub, seated near the private room entry. We’re regulars there and usually don’t attract attention, but James as a Windsor tips the balance. Alongside, of course, my recently raised media profile.
With pints in hand, we sit at the round table at the back of the moody wood-paneled room, a window casting thin light across us and the old plank floor.
“Alright,” James begins seriously. “I don’t think the operation is yielding the results we are hoping for.”
I give him a suspicious look. This doesn’t bode well for me. “Oh?”
“You mean this debacle with Theo’s fake men?” Ethan asks.
“They’re not my men?—”
“Yes,” James agrees. “Those ones. The men are perfectly real. Again. For the record.”
I frown. “Now what? Don’t tell me you have another set of dates with strangers lined up for me. I did my part. Problem solved.”
James raises a hand to stop me. There’s a certain weight in his movement. “You put in some effort,” he acknowledges, “but I’d peg it as a six out of ten at best, and I’m being generous since I’m your friend. And I checked the headlines before I came over. You’re not the lead story, but still up there. Your ex is still making waves, along with the scandal about a certain yacht?—”
“Now, James—” I start.
“You did go out on dates last week, it’s true, but it wasn’t convincing. You need to be one hundred percent convincing if this has any hope of working.”
“And what is this, exactly?”
“Helping you find a future husband to reform your name. Obviously.” James rolls his eyes. “Haven’t you been paying attention? I told you already. We’ve been over this.”
I grimace. “I was hoping you were mistaken.”
“I don’t make mistakes.” James stares me down. He’s giving me not a hint of yield.
Before I can help it, I’ve rolled my eyes, and James looks momentarily forlorn.
Ethan hides a smile behind his hand, then drinks. He’s witnessed this sort of thing before. “Of course you don’t make mistakes, James.”
“Thank you, Ethan. At least someone appreciates my effort. Just look at what I have to work with here.” James shakes his head, as if I’m his particular burden to bear.
Our meals arrive, and I dig into my fish and chips. I gesture at James with a chip. “You’ve got plenty to work with here, by the way. I’m amazing.”
Ethan grins. He pats my arm reassuringly. “So, your plan?” he prompts James.
“Don’t encourage the man.” I frown. The last thing James needs is more encouragement for his schemes. After all, I can come up with my own schemes well enough. Or, evidently, the schemes find me, one way or another.
James leans in, lowering his voice, even though we have the room to ourselves. “I’m thinking the Windsors officially invite Theo as their guest to a public-facing or private-ish event where you can be seen. It puts you on the same level as, say, Prince Auggie.”
“James, Auggie’s practically married to Thomas Golden. I don’t see how that helps me.” I shake my head and start in on my fish.
“Respectability by association, a time-honored tradition,” James says, unbothered. “In fact, my birthday is coming up. I could throw a party, have select media coverage where the palace is in charge…”
I sigh. “I appreciate the effort. But seeing I’ve made a complete mess for the Greek royals as well as myself, I don’t see how potentially expanding my ring of chaos to the British monarchy is going to help anyone. Besides, I’m sure you’d have to clear such an official event with someone on behalf of the British Royal Family, and I can’t see them agreeing.”
“What, who would deny me a birthday party?” James looks aghast at the very idea. “Hardly. Even Auggie isn’t that cruel?—”
I throw my hands up. “I don’t think you’d be denied a birthday party… but having it as an official royal event is a hard sell unless you’re the King?—”
“Furthermore,” James presses on, ignoring me, “instead of going on more dates with an assortment of men, I think you need to pick the most respectable one—or have one chosen for you—and then you keep going on dates with him as a steady fake boyfriend?—”
“Now, wait?—”
“And what better place than to go together with your new squeeze to my birthday party, where we can completely control the narrative?” James grins at me, incredibly pleased with himself. “It’s a brilliant plan, even if I do say so myself. I ran it past John, and he agrees.”
