His Royal Favorite (29 page)

“However, gay and lesbian worshippers are welcomed in all our congregations—some more openly than others, I grant you, sirs. But we endeavor to make it clear that we are all equal in the eyes of the Lord.”

Except for the part where some of us are apparently unfit to rule
, James thought sourly.

“God’s mercy and understanding are infinite,” the archbishop said. “We cannot hope for that kind of divine perfection, but we must strive for it in every sense, every day. Your Royal Highnesses, that requires us to look beyond our prejudices, to overcome our weaker and more worldly selves.”

Where was this going? James leaned forward slightly, newly intent.

The archbishop said to James, “What we must establish—clearly, explicitly, beyond any doubt—is that you would under no circumstance seek to change or influence the development of the canon law of the Church of England. You would not agitate for gay marriage, sir, nor seek to marry your partner in a religious ceremony conducted by another church.”

“I—of course I would never seek to change canon law,” James said.

“If you and Mr. Dahan desired a civil ceremony, Your Royal Highness, the Church would not object,” the archbishop said, then paused. “It might be advantageous were Mr. Dahan to convert.”

Was what James thought was happening really happening? Richard was sitting up straighter now, eyes wide with astonishment.

Then James remembered he needed to speak. “I would not presume to dictate Mr. Dahan’s spiritual life.”

The archbishop shrugged, a small smile on his face. “It was just a thought. As I said, sir, a civil ceremony alone would raise no religious issues.”

Richard said, “But you must see that James cannot be king. He cannot lead the Church.”

“His Royal Highness cannot lead the Church if he is going to attempt to change or influence the canon law of the Church to his own preference, sir,” the archbishop clarified, turning from Richard to James as he spoke. “However, upon receiving your solemn assurances that you will attempt to do no such thing, sir, I cannot see any reason for the Church to deny your rightful place as heir to the throne solely because of your sexuality.”

“I do so swear.” James felt almost light-headed, hardly able to take it in. “Will you require something in writing, Archbishop?”

“Perhaps at the time of your coronation, sir, but your oath is sufficient for now.” The archbishop smiled; his only concern had been taken care of.

Richard’s face had turned an unprecedented shade of red. “He lives out of wedlock with a non-Christian man—unashamedly homosexual—and this is meant to be a moral exemplar for the nation?”

The archbishop sighed. “I hope it will not be considered impolite of me to mention it, Your Royal Highnesses, but it has been some time since the Church of England looked to the House of Hanover for its moral exemplars.”

“Understandable.” James managed to get it out with a straight face.

“Also, I rather liked what you said in your coming-out speech, sir,” the archbishop said. “About our need to accept one another as we are born, as we are made by God. That’s a powerful message, and one I am proud for the Church to support.”

“The entire Anglican communion won’t support it.” James could not in decency fail to mention this—though surely the archbishop of Canterbury knew this already. “I would never wish for my private life to be the source of a schism within the church.”

With a heavy sigh, the archbishop said, “Most of us believe a schism within the Anglican communion worldwide is inevitable, given the increasing gap in social values between the different churches. Perhaps not. I hope not. All I am certain of, sir, is that the Church of England should not compromise its own principles. And I feel we would be doing so were we to stand against your succession to the throne.”

James said the only thing he could: “Thank you.”

“Then we all comprehend one another, Your Royal Highnesses.” The archbishop smiled. “Is there any other matter you wished to discuss?”

Silence, until Richard said, voice flat, “No, Archbishop. That is all.”

The archbishop departed, and James and Richard were left alone. For a moment they simply sat there in a long, heavy silence, and then Richard began to gather his things, not saying a word.

James watched him. He saw a man older than his own father had ever had the opportunity to be. He saw someone who had forever stood in the shadows of others—the king, his nephew, the brother who had beaten him to the throne through the cosmic joke of being born forty-five minutes early. All these years, Richard had believed becoming heir to the throne would make him happy. It never would have; James wasn’t sure anything had that power. But he could see, finally, how heavy a weight that was for Richard to carry, and how sad it was that even now, his pride would not let him put it down.

Just as Richard walked toward the door, James said, “Uncle Richard?”

He paused. Maybe the use of the family title calmed him a bit, because he responded quite normally. “Yes, James?”

“At St. Maur Hall, part of Indigo’s treatment is family therapy. It helps her to have her family members involved in the process, learning why she is the way she is, and how best to help her.” James managed a small but genuine smile. “I think she’d like it if you took part. She’d like that very much. If you didn’t want to be in the group sessions, I’m sure there’s a way you could work together, just the two of you and her treatment team. If you wanted.”

Richard’s stony expression didn’t change, but he said, “I shall contact the hospital.”

James’s smile broadened. “I think that would be wonderful.”

Then Richard was gone, and James was alone with the knowledge that—despite having come out, despite everything—he was going to be the next king. It felt almost as astonishing as it would have if he were hearing this for the first time.

He imagined his father and mother watching him. Although James didn’t much believe in a starkly literal heaven, where everyone remained more or less like they’d been in life, but with immortality and better lighting, he believed enough to think that something of his parents might endure, and take joy in this.

Giddy with delight, James thought,
I did it. I told the truth, I stood up for what I am and what I believe, and I kept the throne. Indigo is safe forever. I’ll fulfill what my father wanted for me. And Mum—

The thought of his mother, Princess Rose, caught him short. He saw her as she had been those last few years, sad, lonely, and trapped.

Mum would only have wanted him to have love.

James’s heart sank.
Oh God. Ben.

Chapter 8

Ben’s Fate

“I can’t believe it,” Ben said, for what must have been the dozenth time.

“I know.” James paced the length of Ben’s office in Clarence House, obviously still on edge from the meeting. “It’s incredible. But stupid of me, really, not to realize that Richard talking to the archbishop didn’t necessarily mean he’d
convinced
the archbishop.”

Ben’s mind seized on the most bizarre detail first. “He actually wanted me to convert to the Church of England?”

“I told him that was your business and no one else’s.” James sat in the chair opposite the desk, stretching out his hands to clasp Ben’s. “I know this isn’t what you wanted to hear.”

“Don’t say that,” Ben replied, even though it was true.

James gave him a look. “No limits.”

Ben took a deep breath and collected his thoughts. Together they could hear the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner, the soft footfalls of staffers going up and down the hallways of Clarence House, oblivious. Their personal story was just one tiny corner of this palace, one small fragment of everything that happened here.

Finally Ben said, “This is a victory for you. I see that. I’m even glad about what it symbolizes. But I thought we were out of all this, and we’re not.”

By now James looked stricken. “They’ve only said that I wouldn’t be asked to stand down. That doesn’t mean I couldn’t—decline the throne, or abdicate.”

It was difficult for him to even say those words, Ben realized. “But what would that do to Indigo?”

James only looked more distraught. “I couldn’t do anything now. Not while she’s struggling through this.”

“Of course not.” Ben was horrified to have suggested such a thing, even inadvertently. “No, no. Let’s not think that way.”

“We have to think about it eventually.” James’s eyes met Ben’s evenly. “We might as well deal with it now.”

Ben held up his hands. “Wait. All right? Don’t do this.”

“Don’t do what? Face facts?”

“Force an ultimatum when we’re not ready.” He pushed up from the desk and walked around it, needing to be closer to James. “We both have to think about this. You shouldn’t make a decision today, or tomorrow, and I shouldn’t either.”

In truth his mind was already racing, already hemmed in between the two extremes: royal life versus leaving James forever. The third option—forcing James to abandon a role and a sister to which he felt deeply committed—felt no better than the other two. But Ben also knew that he wasn’t prepared to face any of those possibilities this hour, or maybe not even this month.

“Take our time.” James nodded, running one hand through his hair in an obvious effort to calm himself. “Work it out as we go.”

“Exactly.”
Enough of this
, Ben decided. He put on arm around James’s shoulders and managed to smile. “Today, you know what we’re going to do? We’re going to celebrate the fact that you won. You came out, and you kept your right to become king. Okay? You won.”

James’s smile was crooked. “This doesn’t feel like winning.”

“Don’t.” Ben gave James’s shoulders a quick shake. “Try to think of it as—you know, whatever comes next, we get to choose. It’s not up to the Church or the media or anybody else. Just us.”

Slowly James relaxed a little. “I admit, that makes a nice change.”

Ben tried to focus himself on the good too, to take heart in the moment. “Plus, Indigo’s safe, just when she needs it most. When you tell her this, it’s going to be a big load off her mind.”

“She’ll be so happy.” James’s smile finally looked real, and Ben realized he was smiling back. Somehow, amid everything else, Indigo’s well-being had come to mean a great deal to him.

Ben kissed James’s forehead, then took one of his hands. “Listen. I asked Glover to ice some champagne for us.”

“To toast our freedom,” James said softly, and it was the only moment Ben came close to losing control, the only moment that he let the hurt get through.

But only for a moment. “Now we’re going to toast your victory. All right?”

“All right.”

They kissed, and then they went upstairs and broke open the champagne. Foam was licked off each other’s fingers; more kisses were exchanged; and treats were given to Happy and Glorious. For dinner they arranged to meet Cassandra and Spencer in a private dining room at a popular restaurant, which led to more champagne and a great deal of laughter.

But no matter how many glasses of bubbly Ben had, or how good Cassandra’s jokes were, there was no forgetting the decision looming ahead. Ben knew that James might elect to leave the monarchy for him, but he did not see that as freeing him from his own burdens.

Freedom or James: It was a choice now, stark and irrevocable.

***

James had agreed to the television interview because he’d thought he would have to explain his removal from the line of succession. Now that he remained first in line, the entire thing had changed.

“We could of course cancel, sir,” Kimberley said earlier that afternoon, as they worked out the details of his week’s schedule. “Per our request, ITV has kept this under wraps, so no one outside the network need ever know.”

“We should go on with it.” Although James wanted nothing so much as to simply burrow in with Ben for a few days, he recognized the opportunity the interview presented. He had wanted to talk more openly about his decision to come out, and now that he was no longer head of state, he could. Now he also needed to discuss Indigo’s decision to seek help. Although he would not violate her privacy, he could put the basics in general terms and stress how courageous she had been, and would have to be.

“I’m glad you agree, Your Royal Highness. In fact, I’d going to pass along a request from ITV that I think you should seriously consider.”

“What’s that?”

“They asked whether Mr. Dahan might come along, and participate in the final segment of the interview, perhaps seven minutes or so.”

That stopped James short. “Really? That sounds a bit—I don’t know. Official.” That was something a royal fiancé would do, rather than a partner, however serious. At this moment, when James was unsure whether Ben would still be in his life three months in the future, the idea struck at something raw within him. “That’s not a good idea. I doubt Mr. Dahan would be interested, anyway.”

Instead of agreeing, though, Kimberley said, “I would urge you to reconsider, sir, and I would be willing to speak to Mr. Dahan about this myself. You have an opportunity here that shouldn’t be wasted.”

“Maybe someday.”

“No, sir. You should act now.” She leaned forward. “As you wished, we have not summarized or reviewed the press coverage of Princess Amelia’s hospitalization.”

James hadn’t had the heart to look at any more of it. “Have the papers violated the privacy agreement?”

Kimberley shook her head. “The agreement has held, sir. Even the tabloids have kept far from St. Maur Hall. However, other forms of coverage continue. Op-eds, letters to the editor, columnists, blogs, that sort of thing—and to a very great extent, the public sees the princess’s hospitalization as something Mr. Dahan helped to bring about.”

It was enough to drive a man to despair. “They blame
him
? They’re blaming him for this?”

“No, sir.” Kimberley smiled. “Do you not see? They don’t
blame
Mr. Dahan. They
credit
him.”

“Credit?”

“If you will permit me to say so, Your Royal Highness, while you are far more forward-thinking than the rest of your family in most respects, you did not give the British people fair credit when it came to understanding mental illness. Yes, there are rude and foolish voices—but most people sympathize with the princess’s situation. They are ready for an open and honest discussion of her condition, and relieved to finally know the truth. Several other people suffering from anxiety and self-harm have spoken out, and the coverage has been more compassionate than I would have dared hope.”

At first he could hardly believe it. James had never been happily surprised by the media in his life.

Kimberley continued, “Mr. Dahan has been singled out as a positive force mostly because of that one story, the leak from St. Maur Hall—”

James knew it instantly: the one that had described Ben comforting him in the hallway, sheltering his face from the sight of others. In his indignation at having such an intimate moment revealed, he had never stopped to consider that people reading about the scene might recognize Ben’s kindness, and the strength he had given James on that awful night.

“And, of course, simply because he is the main new force in the royal family and thus considered more likely to advocate for an obviously new course of care for Her Royal Highness. For the first time since he gave his public statement as your partner, he is being looked upon favorably.” Kimberley’s eyes studied him intently. “In other words, sir, this would be a very good time for the public to meet Mr. Dahan.”

He took a deep breath. “Let me talk with him.”

Ben was deep in work on his book—so deep that it was less a matter of interrupting him and more a matter of getting him to surface—though James felt sure that wasn’t the main reason Ben looked so startled. “They think I’m the one who got Indigo into treatment? That was Hartley, if it was anybody. And she’s the one who’s had to have the guts to go through it. I don’t want credit for something that’s not true.”

“It’s true enough,” James said. “If you hadn’t been there that night . . . I would’ve known what needed doing, but I don’t know if I would have acted on it. I was still trying to protect her. You were the one who said I needed to trust Indigo. To let her fight.”

“Still, an interview?”

“You could give the credit to Indigo yourself.” The rest of the suggestion would have to go unspoken, for now. They had chosen to give each other space to consider their future, which meant not saying,
This is one more thing you’ll have to accept if you stay with me. This is one more way of living in the public eye. You might as well begin.

Ben remained silent for a few long moments, then breathed out in exasperation. “I need to shave.”

James grinned, and tried very hard not to read more into it than it was. Ben wasn’t promising to be by his side forever, just for the interview. But he couldn’t help grasping on to every thread that gave him hope.

***

At the studio, Ben was completely flummoxed by the makeup. “Really?”

“Oh, come on. It’s not like you haven’t worn it before,” James teased as he submitted to his own powdering.

“Some
eyeliner
. At the
clubs
.”

The debate was half joke, both for their own amusement and for that of the makeup artists circling them like honeybees. Although the performance-before-the-performance had become second nature to James, he saw it fresh through Ben’s eyes, the need to be “on” while in the presence of virtually any other person.

But Ben was managing. He understood what to do. James relaxed a little, knowing he could trust Ben in this too.

Just as well, because once he took his place on the sofa, and the lights were adjusted, and he and Gavin Carmichael had said their hellos, the cameras came on, and it was time, at last, to speak.

They began with the basics: The king’s recovery, the end of the regency, and so on. James had thought he’d have to lead into his own “voluntary” choice to step away from the throne, but instead, the subject didn’t have to be raised.

Talk of the family led to talk of Indigo:

“When did you first realize your sister was unwell, sir?”

“Approximately a year after the deaths of our parents,” James said evenly. The lights shone warm on his face. “Obviously that was a deeply difficult experience for both of us. I fear that my own grief may have kept me from fully understanding the impact on Amelia. Also, I remained at university. At the time we all felt a very strong need to go on with our lives as usual, as much as we possibly could given the circumstances. In retrospect, however, I wish I had remained in London with my sister. Amelia was much younger, and I believe she felt the loss even more keenly than I.”

Gavin didn’t ask for details of injuries or for specific incidents. Nor would James have supplied them if asked. The horrors of the box cutter, or the blood-spattered closet floor, or Indigo’s injuries on that final night—those remained private, closed to the world, forever.

“What led to the decision for Her Royal Highness to seek inpatient treatment?”

“She came to a point of crisis.” Hartley too would go unmentioned. Although James felt he deserved more credit than anyone save Indigo herself, Indigo had asked for their relationship not to be revealed to the public. Insofar as possible, James was hewing to the boundaries Indigo herself had discussed with him in advance. The precious and the painful alike had to be concealed. “Her self-harm had escalated to a point where we were genuinely afraid for her. Our attempts to deal with her problems as a family had fallen short, and I think we all finally understood this. Amelia herself made the decision, which I consider to be incredibly courageous. She has a very long road ahead, and I intend to be with her every step of the way. We all do.”

Now that even Richard was on board, James could say that and mean it.

That was a natural segue, one Gavin Carmichael would tape a voiceover for and edit later. They took a quick break, allowing them each to get a sip of water while the camera was off. James stole a look over at Ben, who was looking polished and dapper while he sat in a chair off to the side awaiting his turn. Ben winked. A makeup artist blotted James’s skin with a bit of powdery paper. In the background, Kimberley gave him a thumbs-up.

The camera light went on again.

“Speaking of coming forward, sir—”

James smiled. “Yes.”

“It has now been approximately five months since you revealed to the world that you are a gay man.”

Some response seemed to be expected. “Yes.”

“Why then?”

He gave Gavin Carmichael, and beyond him, the audience, his best smile, the most boyish and winning of them all, so this wouldn’t come across as defensive: “Do you mean, why so late, or why so soon?”