His Royal Favorite (3 page)

“Yes, yes, I read the papers the same as anyone else,” the queen interjected. “But our responsibility extends beyond the boundaries of Great Britain. Have you entirely forgotten the Commonwealth, James? Do you realize that those nations often hold rather more traditional viewpoints?”

“I have never forgotten that,” James said. “But in the end, it is those nations’ right to say whether they will or will not accept a gay king at the head of the Commonwealth. If I lie, if I essentially trick them into having a gay king whether they like it or not—it’s condescending in the extreme. These are nations with their own leadership and their own viewpoints. They’ll make their own decisions. Ultimately the strength of the Commonwealth should endure beyond the role of any individual monarch.”

“Sounds very noble,” Richard said, very evenly. “Did your new PR man come up with that for you?” And he nodded toward Ben.

James glanced at Ben, who stood only a few inches behind, as handsome as James had ever seen him, and still silent, expression unreadable. After a deep breath, James said, “This is Benjamin Dahan. He’s—the man in my life.”

Indigo gasped. Apparently she hadn’t heeded the first name when they were announced. Her eyes searched Ben’s face, though James couldn’t guess for what.

The rest of the family looked equally surprised, but once again, Nicholas was the only one who managed to smile. The queen seemed to be swelling with indignation, while Richard said, “You actually intend to parade your lover about the palace?”

“I intend to tell the truth, first to my family, then to the public,” James said. “Ben’s willing to face the consequences. For the next few weeks, he’ll be staying with me at Clarence House.”

“In the palace?”
The queen’s eyes were wide. “You’re admitting
this
to the press as well?”

“So this is what we are to present to the British people,” Richard said, finally ruffled. “A would-be king more dedicated to his sex life than to his duty. And his lover, God knows who from God knows where, who has earned himself a place among royalty by submitting to God knows what.
This
is what you want the people to accept. Could this be any worse for our family? For the monarchy?”

There was a moment of mutually horrified silence, during which James was trying to think of which insult to hurl at Richard first. Then Ben said, “...I’m also Jewish.”

Richard’s eyes went wide. Nicholas bit his lower lip, obviously trying hard not to laugh. The queen looked over at one of the cousins and asked in all seriousness, “Is he joking?”

James turned to Ben and thought, with all his heart and strength,
I love you
. Ben’s eyes crinkled at the corners, half a smile; he understood.

“Ben is a journalist and author,” James said. “He’s lived and worked all over the world, reporting on economic issues, especially in developing nations. I don’t intend to apologize for him or for myself.”

The queen apparently wanted to steer the conversation back to more familiar ground. “In my youth, this was the sort of thing people handled more discreetly. Have you never even considered that?”

All those years he’d lived a lie with Cass—as close as he’d come to marrying her, all the while knowing that both he and she would seek to have secret lovers to complete their lives—and still the queen could ask him this question. James sighed. “The truth is the only answer. I believe that absolutely.”

She again looked irritated. “Our private lives are none of their business.”

“Aren’t they?” James replied. “The people have the right to know that I won’t be fathering children, that Indigo will give birth to the next heir. Withholding the truth only leads to rumors, and distrust. I’ve lived a lie long enough. I’m done.”

The queen clearly remained unconvinced. But that was when Ben spoke again. This time, his voice was steady and serious. “Discretion was easier to come by before the 24/7 news cycle. These days, secrets are much harder to keep. Consider how everyone in your family has to cycle through mobile phones to avoid hacking, Your Majesty.”

Oh, thank God Ben remembered the title
. Did that mean she might actually listen? James watched as the queen said, “We seem to have kept some things secret, don’t we?”

Her gaze wasn’t on James. It was on Indigo.

If Ben noticed that, he gave no sign. He simply said, “This news will be explosive, Your Majesty. No one questions that. But it’s better if James tells the truth himself. Imagine how much worse it would be if the news got out in some other way.”

The queen nodded as though she were weary. “Dear God. Winspear, bring me a brandy.” A servant ducked out of a side door in a hurry.

James knew his grandmother enough to know that her signaling for a brandy meant she’d admitted defeat. If the queen didn’t absolutely forbid his coming out, then nothing else would stand in his way. He could and would have done it even if she’d forbidden it, but there would have been a price to pay.

Nicholas chimed in, “So, what was that with Cassandra, anyway? You seemed so close.”

That allowed James to talk about how wonderful Cass was, and Nicholas, God bless him, kept asking questions as calmly and warmly as though they were having this conversation alone over a meal. Nicholas included Ben, asking about his background; Ben always answered politely but briefly, and only someone who knew him as well as James did could have sensed how much he was holding back.

What is Ben thinking? This can’t be how other families talk to one another. Surely films and TV shows aren’t
all
lying about that. Does he think we’re horribly strange and cold? Does he think I’m more like him, or more like them?

Impossible to ask now. Difficult to imagine asking ever.

The rest of his family remained mostly quiet. A few of his cousins questioned the timing of the announcement, details like that; they were hedging their bets, wanting to look as though they were objecting to his move, in case he fell out of power, without actually giving him any real difficulty, in case he didn’t. Indigo stared at Ben as though she didn’t know what to make of him. James wondered whether she was happy for them, frightened of someone else having such an important role in her brother’s life, or simply unable to believe anyone would willingly stand in the glare of public attention she hated so much. The queen sipped her brandy in resigned silence.

None of this concerned James as much as the fact that Prince Richard also said nothing. He watched the scene, no longer angry but—apparently—pleased.

James knew Richard would never be pleased by anything so simple as the truth, much less his happiness.

As the meeting ended, James turned to Ben and spoke only to him for the first time since he’d entered the room. “We’d best go. I know you’ve got to meet with Kimberley, and I have a statement to write.”

“Ind—” Ben caught himself. “What about Princess Amelia? Should I speak with her?”

Indigo overheard and tried to smile, but James saw how wan her cheeks were. This meeting had been hard on her. So he said, “Sometime soon, perhaps.”

As they turned to go, however, Richard stepped to James’s side. “A word. If you don’t mind.”

Ben hesitated—apparently he did mind—but James quickly turned away with Richard. Any conversation between those two would swiftly become an argument, a disruption of protocol that neither he nor Ben could afford. Nicholas was wise enough to step in and chat with Ben almost immediately.

When they were slightly apart from the others, James said, “Yes, Uncle Richard?”

“I don’t intend to challenge your right to rule after your announcement.”

James paused. “Why do I get the feeling I shouldn’t thank you for your support?”

“Because my support is not for the individual. My support is for the institution. As long as you’re Prince Regent, you stand in the place of the monarch, and I have always given my loyalty to the monarchy.” Richard smiled. “But your sister was right, James. The king’s illness is minor. His recovery is assured. Your regency is temporary.”

“I’ve never wished for anything else,” James said, feeling as if he were being accused of hoping for his grandfather’s death.

“Nor have I. But now I have even more reason. You see, this morning I spoke to the Archbishop of Canterbury. I told him that you would soon reveal information that made it clear how ill-fitted you are to be Supreme Governor of the Church—and therefore, to be king.”

Damn it.
Richard might not have been the brightest of the royal family, but he’d glimpsed James’s greatest weakness immediately.

Richard continued, “I told the archbishop that the stability of the monarchy relied on your rule remaining unquestioned during the regency. Your public relationship with another man will make that more difficult to bear, particularly given that he isn’t even a Christian. But you seem determined to go throwing this in everyone’s face. Please do so. It will only make the necessary changes more obvious to the British people. When the king takes back his throne, as he soon will, then things will be very different.”

He’d already colluded with the Archbishop of Canterbury. Surely the archbishop didn’t yet know the full truth—if Richard had already leaked the secret, he would have taunted James about that too. However, when the news came out, the archbishop would already be predisposed to go against James.

But James revealed no sign of his worry. To Richard he said only, “We shall see.” Then he turned his back on the man, wishing it could be forever.

As they went out the door toward the waiting car, Ben’s hand rested on his arm. Ben said, “That wasn’t as bad as you were expecting, was it?”

“No,” James said. He knew he needed to tell Ben what had just happened, but he couldn’t yet. Not now. If he thought too much about it, he wouldn’t be able to keep going forward, and he had to keep going until this was done.

***

Although James seemed preoccupied after the meeting at the palace, Ben was slightly heartened. He’d felt intimidated when they first walked in—more so than he’d anticipated, because all the columns and oil portraits and servants seemed to have been crowding in at once. However, the conversation seemed to have gone well enough. That Uncle Richard James fretted over was really nothing but a prig. The queen . . . Ben couldn’t quite pin her down yet, but she’d listened to reason. He worried more about the frightened, distrustful stare Indigo had given him.

Shy of strangers, of course. Afraid of new people, even. But James had already told her about Ben’s role in his life, and still she’d been unable or unwilling to come up with a word.

Until now, Ben had wondered whether James was exaggerating his sister’s difficulties—not consciously, but as part of his belief that every burden was his to bear alone. Instead it looked as though James might have downplayed the problem.

“Do we have a few minutes?” Ben said as they stepped out of the car and headed back into Clarence House, through twin lines of servants and security staffers all pretending this was business as usual. But it so, so wasn’t. Ben knew that right now he and James badly needed some time to themselves, a chance to reconnect with the wild, boundless hope that had buoyed them last night.

But James shook his head. “You’ve got that meeting with Kimberley. And I know you’ll want to be at your flat tonight, getting things ready. Unless you want me to send someone to pack for you?”

“I’ll do it myself,” Ben said hurriedly. The idea of strangers pawing through his things, deciding what to take and what to leave, horrified him.

So he was already slightly unnerved as he walked into Kimberley Tseng’s office and took a seat. With only a few careful touches of decoration—a vase of fine Chinese porcelain, fresh flowers on a tabletop—Ms. Tseng had managed to make this small space feel both feminine and individual. Yet the relatively spare furnishings and the direct light made it clear that she did not see femininity and fierceness as mutually exclusive.

Ms. Tseng smiled politely, shut the door behind him, locked it, and said, “I need you to answer this first question truthfully, and in confidence. Your answer will remain between us.”

“All right,” Ben said, not sure where this was going.

Ms. Tseng sat in the chair next to him, her dark eyes meeting his unsparingly. “Do you love the Prince Regent?”

“Of course.” Was she about to give him some absurd relationship pep talk?

Instead she said, “If you do, then I want your word that you’ll abide by my recommendation at the end of the vetting process.”

Vetting?
“I’m not sure I understand.”

“His Royal Highness is about to spend virtually every ounce of political capital he has to retain his place in the succession. He won’t have any left over to defend you. Do you understand?” From her designer tote, Ms. Tseng withdrew a laptop and an audio recorder, but the laptop remained shut and the recorder remained off. “We are about to review your entire background. It is absolutely critical that you be completely honest with me. I’m not about to go tattling any of it to the Prince Regent, the press, or anyone else, so you should feel free to be candid. If we reach the end of this process, and I believe that there are elements in your past that would create extreme and unnecessary controversy, any hints of a scandal that could threaten the Prince Regent’s position, then I shall say that I think you should walk away from this, immediately, for his own good. And if you love him, you’ll do it.”

So now he had to get a seal of approval first. “Is this the normal sort of thing you do?”

“If you mean, am I overreaching my role? I am. If you tell the Prince Regent I’ve said any of this, he’ll probably give me the sack. But the next consultant he gets will say the same, unless they’re incompetent, and he can’t afford incompetence right now. Or scandal. In other words, Mr. Dahan, neither of us can fuck up.”

Simultaneously Ben felt insulted and as though, in slightly different circumstances, he would greatly like Kimberley Tseng. “I won’t make any promises. But I’ll listen to what you say.”

She sighed. “Very well.” She turned on the audio recorder and took up her laptop. “We need to put together a list of every man you’ve ever slept with.”