Page 147 of The Devil’s Lair

“I’m honored.”

“Don’t be. It’s not for you. It’s for all this.” He gestures around the ballroom. “Always have wanted an invite to the center of British royalty.”

“Such a charmer.” I punch him lightly on the arm. “I know you love me.”

“Saskia.”

I groan as Xan comes into view, a deep scowl scoring his forehead, his fiery gaze locked on Donovan.

“At least I don’t have to worry about you sniffing around my sister anymore.”

Donovan, usually genial, fires an equally scorching glare at Xan. “You never did. Not that I ever could quite get that through your thick skull. Saskia and I have no interest in each other outside of being friends.”

The two men engage in a stare off for a few seconds. Unusually, it’s my brother who breaks first. “Luis is looking for you.”

“Run along, princess.” Donovan winks.

I check no one is looking, then flip him off.

He laughs. “Unbecoming of royalty, Saskia.”

“Leave her the fuck alone,” Xan growls.

I roll my eyes. Those two have been at each other’s throats as long as I can remember. I bet if I asked them, they wouldn’t even recall what it was they fell out about in the first place. According to Nicholas, they were friends before Mum and Annabel died, and for a few years afterward. In their early twenties, they fell out and they’ve sniped at each other ever since.

Luis is standing with his father and sister. As I approach, he holds out his hand for me to take and greets me with a beaming smile.

“There you are.”

“Xan said you were looking for me.”

“Yes. The Queen of Denmark would like to meet you. Excuse us, Father.”

The next two hours are a whirlwind of talking to dignitaries and royalty and trying to remember to curtsey to the right people. I lost Luis about an hour ago, and since then I’ve been riding solo, trying not to mess up by blurting out an ill-advised “fuck”. It’s harder than it looks when my brothers use it as a verb.

It’s too much. I need a break. A quiet moment to regroup.

Leaving the ballroom behind, I make my way down the hallway until the voices fade and silence follows. Thank God. I love a party, but as outgoing as I am, sometimes even I crave a quiet moment in the middle of the chaos. Once I’m alone, I pause, resting my head against the wall and closing my eyes.

The moment alone doesn’t last long. The sound of a deep male voice coming toward me threatens my peace. I look left and right. Nowhere in sight yet. Good. I stride across the hall and enter another gigantic room filled with sofas, chairs, and yet more paintings. I’m about to sit on one of the sofas and maybe take a twenty-minute nap when the door handle turns.

Shit.

Whoever it is, I’m not in the mood for conversation with even more strangers. I know this is the life I’ve signed up for, but Luis reassured me we’d ease into it, and I won’t be expected to carry out any unaccompanied royal duties for at least a year.

There’s another door behind me. I dart for it, slipping through in the nick of time. Except it’s not a way out. It’s a storage cupboard. Goddammit. Now I’ll have to wait it out until whoever just came in leaves. Maybe, like me, they’re looking for a few minutes of peace.

“Alone at last,” the man I heard approaching in the hallway says. His voice is vaguely familiar, but I’ve spoken to so many people tonight, it’s impossible to isolate a single voice.

“Thank God. Come here.”

My jaw drops. Now, that is a voice I recognize. All too well.

It’s a risk. Then again, I’m not one to shy away from taking risks. I open the door a crack. Somehow, and if I live to be ninety, I will never know how I swallow the gasp that threatens to blow my cover.

Luis, my fucking fiancé, is snogging someone else. And not just anyone. I recognize him now. It’s Giles, his private secretary.

Luis and Giles.