“Has anyone talked to him?” I say, throwing the covers off despite the chill. “I need to call—”
“Maisie has already spoken to him,” she says, and I bite the inside of my cheek. Tibby has no idea Ben runs theRegal Record,but Maisie does. Is this enough for her to realize that Ben will never spare either of them as long as she—we—stand in his way?
Somehow I doubt it. “What did Kit say?” I say, pulling open the doors to my armoire.
“I’ve no clue. Maisie’s at breakfast now. I’m sure she’s eager to discuss the matter before you leave for London.”
Maisie likely wants nothing to do with me, but I’m not about to miss my chance to demand answers from her. I rush through the morning essentials, and once I’m dressed and reasonably presentable, I head toward the dining room at a pace that has Tibby struggling to keep up. As we go, she fills me in on our packed schedule before the interview tonight, but I’m barely listening as I cut every corner close, nearly mowing down at least three footmen and a maid.
“How is he?” I say as I burst through the double doors of the dining room. Helene, Nicholas, and Constance all look up in alarm, but Maisie, who sits several seats away from them, barely gives me a passing glance as she types into her phone.
“Evangeline,” says Nicholas, the only friendly face among the four of them. “What an unexpected surprise. Please, help yourself to the buffet—”
“Thanks, but I’m not hungry,” I say, my stare locked on Maisie. “You spoke to Kit, didn’t you?”
Maisie’s thumbs move at the speed of light. “Of course I did. I rang him first thing.”
“What did he say? Is he all right? Has he talked to his parents or—”
“Is this about that dreadful article on that blog?” says Helene. “I thought Doyle was taking care of that.”
“We’ve always been unable to get posts taken down off that site,” says Nicholas with a grimace. “Really, poor Edgar and Amira. And Kit, too, of course. Some things are meant to remain private, and how those vultures got that information to begin with…”
He trails off and takes a bite of his eggs, and I glare at Maisie, who knows damn well how theRegal Recordcame across that little tidbit.
“Is this that…royal what’s-it rag?” says Constance, giving the puppy at my heels a disapproving look, and I grit my teeth. Why does Nicholas seem to be the only one who cares?
“Yes, Grandmama,” says Maisie sweetly. “It’s that terrible online journal that writes all sorts of nasty things about—”
“Whatis the meaning of this?”
A red-faced Prince Benedict of York storms into the dining room, followed closely by a scowling protection officer. Poppy cowers behind me, and I ball my hands into fists as all of my impotence shifts to anger. There is nothing I want more than to break his nose right now, and it’s only because of his unexpected fury that I hesitate.
“The meaning of what, darling?” says Helene as she butters a scone.
“I’m to have a minder wherever I go now,” announces Ben indignantly. “Even during private interactions with family members. And I’ve been banned from all official meetings of the Counsellors of State.”
Helene raises an eyebrow, but while Nicholas also looks mildly surprised, it’s Constance who sits up straighter, clearly affronted. “Who is responsible for this?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” says Ben, shooting me a death glare. “There’s only one person here who hates me. Did you take advantage of Uncle Alexander’s addled state and convince him I’m the bogeyman?”
My jaw tightens painfully, and all my rage finally breaks free. “If I wanted you banned from Balmoral, I wouldn’t have to lie.”
“Enough,”says Constance, and her cup of tea hits the saucer with a clatter. “I’ll speak to Stephens and get this sorted. Clearly there’s been a misunderstanding.”
“At the very least,” says Ben bitterly. “I’ve never done anything to warrant such treatment.”
I snort so loudly that I startle myself, and all eyes turn to me. “Did you have something you wanted to say, Evangeline?” says Helene coolly.
I glare at Ben. “Anything I have to say, I’ll say it during the interview tonight. I think that’s fair, don’t you, Ben? No fun handing out spoilers.”
His soulless eyes narrow. “If I were you, I’d make sure to brush up on defamation laws in this country before saying anythingtoo outrageous. Especially since you seem to be lacking any real evidence to back up your lies.”
“Am I?” I say. “I guess we’ll just have to see, won’t we?”
I step forward, intending on leaving it at that and hurrying back to my phone to text Kit, but Ben’s arm snaps out in front of me, his palm hitting the threshold as he blocks my way.
“Your interview with Kit is at the Maychester Hotel, isn’t it?” says Ben, his voice carrying beyond me. “I certainly hope for your sake that MI5 managed to round up every member of the ABR. Otherwise I shudder to think of what might happen tonight. It’s likely to make what happened to Uncle Alexander look like child’s play—”
