“Buckingham Palace,” she says, already rushing to the bedroom to pick out a sweater for me, her heels clicking against the floor faster than my pulse. “We’ve been summoned, and we’re late.”
—
Out of allthe places I expected to go today—which was nowhere, admittedly—outside my father’s Buckingham Palace office was the very last I would’ve guessed.
A pair of PPOs stand on either side of the doors, neither looking at me or Tibby as we approach at a swift pace. Between them stands Jenkins, his spine so straight and stiff that it looks painful, and that’s how I know this is serious.
“Evan.” Jenkins’s strained expression softens slightly when he sees me, and for a moment, I almost forget about the tension between us that’s lingered for the past eight months—tension I’d very much like to get rid of, even if Jenkins has made damn sure we’re never alone long enough to talk it out. “You made it.”
“Of course we made it,” says Tibby, flustered. “You didn’t give us much time.”
“I gave you as much as I had to give,” says Jenkins, and Tibby narrows her eyes. “They’re inside, Evan, and they should be finishing up soon.”
“Inside…?” I glance at the crack between the office doors. “You want me to go in? Right now?”
“His Majesty requested you specifically,” says Jenkins.
“Who else is in there?” I say, lowering my voice. Helene and Nicholas, surely. Maybe even Maisie.
“Just the three of them,” he says. “His Majesty requested thateveryone else, myself and the PPOs included, step out until the matter is settled.”
My heart isn’t hammering anymore. It’s down in my stomach, sitting like a lump of ice, waiting for something to restart it. I shouldn’t be here. I don’twantto be here. But Jenkins knocks without asking for my opinion, and when I hear my father’s faint call in return, he opens the door.
“Evangeline, sir,” says Jenkins. And taking a gulp of stale palace air, I step inside the massive office that houses a single mahogany desk, where three people are gathered.
“There you are.” My father sits with regal authority in his chair facing the door, and I can see his tight smile from forty feet away. “I’m glad you made it.”
His guest—a blond woman I never wanted to see again—spins around in her seat, and instantly I’m nauseated. “You invitedher?”
“Hello to you, too, Venetia,” I mutter, taking a few ginger steps toward them. Singh, who stands at my father’s side wearing a navy suit and a stone-cold expression, offers me the slightest of nods. I return the gesture as my stomach does cartwheels, threatening to expel the soup I never got to finish.
“I invited Evangeline here today in case you had any questions or…hesitations, shall we say?” says Alexander, refocusing on Venetia. What little warmth he greeted me with is gone, and he’s every bit as cold as Singh.
Venetia shakes her head almost violently, and now that I’m closer, I can see how red and puffy her eyes are. Her mascara must be waterproof, though, because it’s still holding on for dearlife. “This is blackmail. Retribution for telling the truth. Everything here is circumstantial—”
“Some, yes,” agrees Alexander. “But not all of it. And certainly not the worst of it.”
I slowly move behind the desk, giving Venetia a wide berth as her lower lip starts to tremble. “My Ben never did any of this. He was with me the whole time—”
“We both know his physical location doesn’t matter,” says Alexander, giving her a heavy, unwavering look I never want to be on the receiving end of. “You’ve seen the evidence, Venetia, and you know the charges he’s facing should you not be willing to cooperate. Whatever happens next is entirely up to you.”
Her eyes fill with tears, and I linger in the corner as I try to get a good look at the document in front of Venetia. I already know what’s in it, or at least the general idea, but morbid curiosity has always gotten the better of me.
“I knew,” says Venetia at last, her voice venomous as she jabs a manicured nail at Alexander. “About the affair. I found out weeks before I gave birth to Ben.Weeks.Do you know what it’s like to lie in hospital, all alone with your newborn son, knowing that your husband is celebrating by shagging your best friend?”
She plucks a tissue from a silver box at the corner of the desk, but instead of daintily sniffing, she blows her nose so loudly that it sounds like a foghorn.
“I kept your secrets all these years, Alex. I could’ve told the entire world and made tens of millions, but I didn’t, because I still loved you all. And this is how you repay me?” She gestures with her damp tissue toward the document in front of her, like it’s a plate of feces she’s supposed to eat. Which, metaphorically,isn’t all that far from the truth. “This is what decades of loyalty has earned me?”
“Ben did this to himself,” says Alexander, with more sympathy than I expect. “I’m sorry you’re caught in the middle of it, Venetia. But I am offering you a way to protect him one lasttime.”
“Protect him?” Venetia laughs, sitting up straighter in her seat. “You call thisprotectinghim? It’ll take everything from him.Everything.”
“Not his life,” says Alexander quietly. “And make no mistake, Venetia. That is what’s on the line here.”
He nudges the paper toward Venetia and offers her a fountain pen. Venetia’s jaw works, and even from nearly ten feet away, I can hear her teeth grinding.
“I can’t,” she says at last, her gaze dropping to her lap. “My entire livelihood will disappear.”
