Chapter 18

Ginny’s POV

Still in shock but elated, Ginny said goodnight to her fiancé, the Prince of Desjardins, her dream man. This couldn’t be happening. But it was. She glanced at her finger.

Lex had paid his respects to the Calhouns, saying nothing of their engagement. She understood that his parents must be told first. She would follow suit, revealing nothing until he gave her the word. How was she to let Chrissy know without an uncomfortable scene? If she announced the big event in the company of John and Isabel, Chrissy wouldn’t throw a temper tantrum. The confrontation had to come, but she’d delay the inevitable as long as possible.

Alone now in her room, she had time to consider the ramifications. They’d been engaged an hour, and she felt like she was being borne by a hurricane wind, soaring or plunging minute to minute. She was certain of one thing—his government, maybe even the royal family, would object to their union. He’d proposed they keep quiet about her former marriage, but she feared that somehow the biggest mistake of her life would come back to haunt her. Though there were obstacles and potential heartbreaks, Ginny was deliriously happy. She wanted to shout it from the rooftops but was confined one room with her precious secret and the emerald on her finger.

“He put you on my finger.” She stroked the large stone. “I’m not taking you off until he is with me and can put you back on.”

Nobody could miss that big rock. The minute she walked out the door, Chrissy would pounce. No question, the ring was evidence to the world that she was more to Lex than a mere plaything.

“Maybe this will shut her up.” She was honored, flattered, and stunned that he’d given his paternal grandmother’s ring. The jewelry must be worth a small fortune. She held it to the light, admiring the fire in the brilliant diamonds.

Chrissy’s ringtone sounded from the cell beside her head on the pillow. She sighed, resigned to another outburst. When she saw the ring, Chrissy would throw a hissy fit off the Richter scale.

“What did Lex need to say to you that was so private?” Chrissy asked as if she had a right to know.

“Chrissy, it was said in private because he didn’t want anyone to hear.” Ginny was furious that the bitch, and the brat was being a total bitch, had interrupted her high. Who was she kidding? Her former friend held the reins. Even if she was engaged to a royal prince, here in this house, Chrissy was in complete control.

“Did he tell you goodbye?” Chrissy’s voice was hard, brutal, sneering.

No, you meddling witch, he asked me to stay with him for the rest of our lives.

“He told me a secret.” Ginny hugged a pillow to her breast. “I’m not going to betray him by telling you.”

The rasp of a nail file? Chrissy was so sure of herself she was filing her nails? “Why should he tell you a secret?”

“Because he trusts me.”

“Well, now, Miss Virginia MacDonald is the confidante to royalty. Aren’t you just the cat’s pajamas?” Chrissy gave a condescending laugh. “Which brings me to a point. Pack your pajamas. At home, you’ll need them to keep you warm.”

The other girl’s mocking tone made an ugly insinuation—that she’d been sleeping with Lex—but Ginny was beyond the reach of her hurtful accusations. The weight of the ring on her finger proved she was not and never had been a prince’s fool. Their love might be folly, but she’d see this through to the end.

Minutes after she slipped into bed, her phone rang. She flipped on her side, grabbing it from the bedside table, hoping it was Lex. Already her voice sounded sleepy when she said, “Hello.”

“You really don’t listen,” the cultured voice said. “You’d better get cold feet long before the altar, little Ginny. You’ve given me no choice. This is going to get ugly but remember you’ve only yourself to blame.”

Before Ginny could spin a hot retort, t, the anonymous caller disconnected. How ugly could things get when you were going to marry your prince charming?

An alert dinged on her cell. In dancing letters, Lex said, *Goodnight, my Princess. I love you. Pleasant dreams. ~ Your future Husband.”

***

Alexander’s POV

I arrived at the palace without remembering the route I’d taken home. Handing the keys to a footman, I hopped from the car, intent on gathering the family and telling them about my engagement. I was elated. Once my mother and father knew, I’d ring Eugenie. I could express my feelings to my sister—all of the emotions whirling around me. I felt like I was on a carousel horse—up and down. One minute I smiled, everything in my world perfect; the next, I succumbed to dread and apprehension. Through it all, a memory of Ginny’s face when I said I love you, stayed with me. That mental snapshot would give me courage for anything to come.

I didn’t expect my father to object, but my mother was another matter. She’d always envisioned me married to a princess. The Queen clung to the old ways, one canon of which was the sovereignty of the monarchy and a steadfast belief that one did not mix royal blue blood with common red. I found him in his study, perusing the day’s mail. “You’re working late.”

He lifted a hand, indicating one of the dark blue leather chairs before his desk. “Good evening, son. Have you spoken with Eugenie lately? She takes her independence very seriously.” His short laugh masked seriousness, maybe sadness.

Maman and Papa considered Eugenie lost. I knew she was simply missing.

“She’s only being Eugenie.” I hooked my thumbs in the pockets of my uniform trousers—I still hadn’t taken time to change. Feigning a calm I was far from feeling, I said, “I haven’t spoken with her since the match, but I intend to ring her tonight.” I paused, and he raised his brows in question. “Father, I have something to tell you, actually, you and mother together. Would you ask her to join us?”

“This doesn’t bode well.” He shook his head, put aside his pen. “Not at all. You can’t move away, Lex. Your duty is here.”

“Yes, I know.” I began to pace but halted again by his desk. “I’ve no intentions of leaving, Father. Please ring Maman now.”

He pressed a button on the intercom. “Yes, dear, would you please join our son and me in my study? He has something to tell us. Read in here an ominous bell chiming.”

“Why do you think what I have to say is unpleasant?” I straightened the tie choking me, preparing for the biggest announcement of my life.

I suspected this was the first of many hurtles, but I’d run the course. I was committed to Ginny. Without her… Life without Ginny? A bleak prospect I refused to face. One way or another.

“Hello, Lex, husband.” Mother swept into the room, every inch the queen. Still, family mattered more to than the crown.

I was counting on this to save my ass when it came to the sovereignty of the monarchy. “Hello, Maman.”

She hugged me and kissed my cheek. “What is this earth-shattering news, Lex, mon beau?”

“I didn’t intend to give Father the idea it was earth-shattering.” The ground had trembled beneath my feet when I asked Ginny to marry me. “Sit down.”

“Read in monks chanting here.” The king didn’t smile.

When she took one of the chairs, I sat on the edge of the other. “I’m getting married.”

My mother blanched and even my father paled. In unison, they both gasped, “What?”

“You haven’t lost your hearing, and I haven’t lost my mind. You know I’ve been seeing Ginny MacDonald from the American embassy. Tonight, I asked her to marry me.”

“But you scarcely know her, and we don’t know her at all. I thought we were to meet her at the dinner party next week,” my mother protested, once again the queen. “Why this abrupt decision?”

“I love her and do not wish her to return to the States. A certain set of circumstances have arisen at the embassy…” I made a dismissive gesture. “None of that matters. What matters is that I do love her and want her—none other—for my wife.”

“This is sudden.” My father roused from shock, shaking his head like an addled bull.

“It is sudden, but my mind is made up. Ginny has accepted my proposal.” I looked from one to the other. “I’m asking for your blessing.”

Father rose from behind his desk. “You have my blessing, son. Your mother must answer for herself. But I very much fear the King’s Council may not issue theirs.”

I shrugged, smiling and nonchalant, but I was quite well aware of the threat. “Then I shall listen politely and go forward with my wedding plans.”

Maman levered to her feet as if she couldn’t stand alone. She came to me and cupped my face in her hands. “You are my firstborn, the heir to the throne. Lex.” Tears sparkled in her blue eyes, the same color and shape as my sister’s, but the two women’s view of the world was radically different. She shook her head. “If you love her, you have my blessing as well, regardless how reluctantly it is given.” She turned away, turned back. “I’ll lend a hand with the wedding planning if I may.”

“Of course, Maman.” That went rather well. Once she met Ginny, Mother would fall in love with her, too. I stood.

She embraced me for a long, long moment, her hands stroking my back as if they were memorizing the texture of my red jacket. “You know the wedding must be grand,” she said at last, and stood back.

She looked so sad, tears in her eyes, that for an instant my vision misted. I grabbed the reins of my runaway emotions and smiled. This first meeting had gone better than I’d expected, and I was a happy man, newly engaged.

I nodded. “I’m sure if you plan it my wedding will rival Kate’s and William’s.”

“I’ll stay the press for a few days. You know what will happen, and I’d like to avert the notoriety until you can tell the ambassador…” He grinned. “That you intend to steal his receptionist.”

Telling John would open a vicious Pandora’s Box. I shuddered to think what hell Chrissy would devise to torment Ginny. Then I remembered the ring. The witch might already be bedeviling my future wife.

“There is one other thing.”

They froze. Waiting for the next bomb?

I’d have laughed…if Ginny’s present residence weren’t hell. “Would it be possible for her to move into the palace?” I gestured at the floor. “Before the wedding. Like tomorrow. She could have her own chambers. There’s plenty of room—”

My father laughed. “Son, you’re babbling. I’ve no objections.”

“I do.” Maman’s face was stony. “It simply isn’t right. The press would have a field day with your name.”

“Dear, it’s the twenty-first century,” good old Papa said.

I’d never loved him more than in that minute. “Yes, Maman, We don’t burn witches. We laugh at them on the telly.’

“Not only your name. Lex. Your future wife’s as well.” She stood straighter than perfectly straight, shaking her head. As an afterthought, she smoothed the skirt of her designer dress. “Doesn’t the girl have a home?”

***

The following morning, I visited John at the embassy and together we told him of the engagement, thereby avoiding a gathering of the family Calhoun. The longer Chrissy remained ignorant of our pending nuptials the better for Ginny. Except for mon amour’s feelings, I’d welcome a confrontation with the blonde terror.

Shock registered in shades of white on the ambassador’s face before he seized control of himself. “Why, Lex, Ginny, that’s marvelous. My biggest congratulations. I’m going to be really trite here and ask, when is the happy event?”

“We haven’t set a date yet,” Ginny said.

“There are people to tell before we make an announcement.” I accepted the handshake John offered. “Like you. We can let you know in the next few days.”

He hugged Ginny, placed what I thought was almost the kiss of Judas on her cheek.

That night, John must have mentioned the engagement to his wife and daughter. Ginny was out with me. When she returned home, the other girl delivered a huge surprise. She didn’t attack. She acted as if Ginny were invisible. The Blonde Terror wouldn’t look at or acknowledge the ring. Being ignored was preferable to verbal abuse, but it still made living in the Calhouns’ home uncomfortable. Ginny and I went out all day the day after, but the day following I had duties to perform. According to Ginny, not once did Chrissy appear.

On this lovely Desjardins evening, I’d arrived to pick Ginny up at half past seven. We’d spent thirty minutes conversing with the Calhouns over a glass of sherry. Isabel had talked about our engagement, but John was unusually quiet. Chrissy had been notable by her absence. How did she explain this odd behavior to her parents?

Earlier today, I’d spoken at a seniors’ convalescence home, and Ginny and I were getting a later start than normal. She snuggled against me, our hips brushing as we walked. With each light touch, I wished for the ecstasy we’d known in Paris. For the next ten to twelve months, we must obey the rules by the letter. The world would be watching. My father continued his hold on the press. I was eager to see how my people would receive Ginny. No doubt, they’d love her as much as I did.

“Have you told your parents?” I slid an arm around Ginny’s waist. “Mine took it well.”

“I haven’t told my folks yet.” She gazed deep into my eyes, not smiling. “I wanted to see what Chrissy might do in the end. Maybe she’s eased up on the verbal abuse because I’m engaged to a prince.”

“Or perhaps she’s thinking of other ways to torment you?” I stroked her back as we walked. “I wish you’d let me help.”

We’d reached the car, and I handed her into the low-slung roadster. As she slid into the leather seat, her skirt glided up her thigh, teasing me with an enticing view. Starlight jeweled her hair and sparkled in her eyes. She simply took my breath away.

“Ginny, I want you out of that house.” I caressed her cheek with the back of my hand. “I’ll pay the rent on a flat for you. I have a generous allowance.”

“I couldn’t accept your help like that.” She lay her head back on the seat, closing her eyes. “The press would have a field day. I’ll just have to think of something else.”

I smiled grimly. “Chrissy is acting like a child and deserves a good spanking. I get the feeling John is too lenient with his spoiled little girl.”

“You’ve got that right.” Ginny nodded emphatically.

I trotted around the hood and sank into the driver’s seat. “I’ll ask Eugenie if you can stay with her until the wedding.”

She paled, her skin milky against her flamboyant hair. “In Paris?”

“I know it would be inconvenient, but I’d visit you as often as possible.” I traced her lower lip with a fingertip. “At least we could sleep together.”

She gave me a wicked look, rotating her shoulders. “One big point in favor of Paris.” She looked away, looked back. “You said your mother insisted on a long engagement, giving her time to plan the event of the century. I could be with Eugenie for a year, Lex. A year apart. And she might tire of having a roommate. She strikes me as very independent.”

“Then begin looking for a place of your own.”

We drove in silence, the car winding its way out of the city bound for the mountains and our favorite restaurant. I glanced at her, the dash light caressing her profile. She was a classic beauty—a Grace Kelly or Catherine de Neuve. Staring out the window screen, she seemed to have forgotten me. We halted at a stoplight, and she faced me with a wary expression.

“The American papers have started hinting about our relationship, publishing photos of us together.” She turned back to the window as if were a magic portal. “Your parents won’t be pleased.”

“I don’t care, Ginny. Let them all speculate. Soon, I hope to announce our engagement.” I rolled my eyes. “My mother will ensure the proper fanfare. You can count on it.”

She shouldered back in her seat, again closing her eyes. “Sometimes, I wish we could just elope.”

“Eloping isn’t an option. Mon bebe, ignore the media.” I whispered a grim laugh. “You must make them your friend. They’ll never go away.”

As I sped away from the light, her green eyes opened. “I hope they have our table ready. Despite all the drama, I’m hungry.”

I glanced at the mountainous horizon as I drove toward the scene of our first date. Wisps of gray rainclouds haunted the peaks.

***

April 30th - The Clock Starts Ticking Monday mid-morning the gray horizon darkened to black. My assistant had scheduled Georges for an eleven o’clock meeting in my office. When I saw his name penciled on my calendar, I halted in the middle of a sentence. Laying aside the handheld dictating equipment. I picked up the phone to ring my father and ask if he knew why his Councilor in Chief had scheduled a sudden audience with me. I had scant to do with the council. Staring into space, I held the receiver until the buzz summoned the receptionist.

Johanna had been with me since my father installed me in an office. I probably treated her more like a friend than an assistant, but she had never taken advantage of our easy relationship. She answered immediately. “Sir?”

“Nothing, Johanna. I’d thought to make a call but changed my mind. Oh, why do I have Georges at eleven?”

She was an exemplary assistant and would know why the Councilor in Chief of the King’s Council was descending upon me unexpectedly on a Monday morning. “He left an urgent message on voicemail this weekend that he needed to meet with you. I didn’t see a conflict on your calendar. I can cancel if you’d like.” She sounded a little doubtful since it was ten forty-five.

“No, no.” I glanced at the clock. “I’ll know what’s on his mind shortly.”

I was ninety-nine percent sure I knew the reason he’d left the message market urgent. Ginny.

Dread made its first appearance as I waited. Georges was one step down from the Minister of Government of the Desjardins government. I opened a file, shuffled the papers, closed it. Why was I nervous? The King had given his approval for me to marry a commoner. Seizing my crystal letter opener in a death grip, I ripped open an envelope and laid the contents aside. A polite knock, and my assistant opened the door, admitting my father’s old friend. Did Father have a hand in this tête-à-tête? I’d prefer to think he did not.

“Good morning, Georges. May I offer you a brandy? The weather is unseasonably cold.” I didn’t normally drink during the day, but given my suspicions, I thought a drink might be in order—liquid courage and fortification.

“I rarely drink in the mornings, your Highness, but will make an exception for the weather.” He laughed, his round paunch beneath his waistcoat shaking.

I poured the amber spirit into the glittering brandy snifter, handing him the drink with a slight nod. “To your health.”

He accepted the glass. “To your health, prince.”

“How is Abigail? And Thomas? Is he still away at school?” I returned to my desk chair, shoved aside the folder I’d been perusing, and smiled, but dread lingered, waiting for a cause. I was definitely on edge.

“The wife is fine. She sends her regards. Thomas is still away. Thank you for asking.” Georges and his family were frequent sights around the palace. He indicated a chair. “May I?”

“Certainly. You needn’t ask. Forgive my lack of manners this morning.” I sipped my brandy, preparing for the unknown. As the minutes ticked by and still Georges didn’t broach the subject of his call, the dark feeling deepened from apprehension to worry. Though he was a frequent visitor to the palace, he rarely came to my office and never without a purpose.

“Sir, it is common knowledge among the Council, and I daresay, the government at large. The Minister of Government is aware…”

“Aware of what?” The prickling of anxiety told me what, but I’d play along and let him reveal their plans.

“That you have asked Miss MacDonald to marry.” Hapless Georges must have drawn the short straw and been asked to intervene. He looked supremely uncomfortable, his ruddy face a deeper red.

I put on my brightest smile. “That I have, Georges, and if my father hadn’t forbidden the press from printing the story, the people of Desjardins would know, too.”

Georges tossed an indictment at me. “International papers are carrying the story and the tabloids—”

“Councilor in Chief, where are you going with this?” I captured his hesitant gaze. I aimed to remind him of our respective roles, but the man looked so intensely uncomfortable, I decided not to shoot the messenger He hesitated, absently rubbing his well-trimmed beard, and studying me from a totally different perspective. “Did you know that Miss MacDonald had been previously married?”

“I do.” I waved a dimissory gesture. “Moreover, I don’t—"

“Did you know she’d been pregnant during her marriage and had an abortion during the divorce?” Georges perched on the edge of his chair, gathering his courage.

Winded, I stared at him, willing him to recant the statement. Why hadn’t Ginny told me about an abortion? It wouldn’t have affected the way I feel about her. Desjardins was a Catholic country, and, as the heir apparent I was charged with upholding the faith. I had to move, had to say something, but she’d left me ill prepared to face this accusation. I snapped my gaze back to the Councilor in Chief. From this day forward, the Council and even my own government were the enemy.

“On what do you base this accusation?” I managed. I didn’t sound as if I were begging, but that’s how I felt. All my life I’d been trained for such a situation.

He opened his briefcase, withdrew a newspaper. Slowly, he rose, lay it on my desk, and pointed at the headlines. “The U.S. news reported your engagement this morning. An anonymous photo of you and Ms. MacDonald went viral on Instagram with the caption ‘Where is the new princess’ child?’ He unfolded the paper. Cocooned inside was another. He met my gaze, and my heart bottomed out in my feet. “This hit the stands all over Europe. Twitter is alive with the news. During the divorce, she learned she was pregnant and… disposed of the child.”

“I didn’t know, but again—”

“You have to care, Prince Alexander. Under our law, not to mention the church, abortion is illegal.” The Councilor in Chief was a desperate man. He’d made the supreme faux pas of interrupting a royal prince.

While I struggled to regroup, I pulled the tabloid toward me. The lurid red headline read, “Is Prince Alexander’s New Fiancée a Baby Killer?” I pinned the man with an intense, steadfast, and direct gaze. “You can’t believe the tabloids.”

I was trying not to believe, but my heart was slowly falling to pieces. What had else had Ginny not told me? Why hadn’t she told me? Because she didn’t want me to disappear? My views on abortion were my own, but now my own feelings were not in question.

“I think you’ll agree the sensationalism is bad enough.” He shook his head. “We have another reliable source. I can’t reveal that source. They must remain anonymous.”

“Of course,” I said with an edge of sarcasm.

When I realized I was clicking the ballpoint pen in my hand, I cast it aside, steepling my fingers while I berated myself for this betrayal of my feelings. My nerves were stretched as tight as piano wire, and like piano, might snap at any minute. I wasn’t angry for myself but for Ginny. I studied him long and hard. The Councilor in Chief had aged ten years since I last saw him at the polo match—what was it a week ago?

The head of the Royal Council actually squirmed. “The evening edition of the same U.S paper, a reliable one, printed that she had been pregnant during her divorce, which they sensationalized. That headline read, ‘Where is Princess Ginny’s Missing Baby?’ As you can well imagine that article probed into the whereabouts of a missing child.”

The man was as uncomfortable as I, but I sat on the right side of the desk in a royal prince’s office. Members of the Council were appointed by the King. I arched a brow. “She’s not a subject of Desjardins or accountable to its laws. To my knowledge, she’s not Catholic.”

“As your wife, she will be. As your wife, she will be queen. To marry you, she must accept the Church you uphold as future king.” The Councilor in Chief rested his hands on his knees, but still balanced on the edge of his chair.

“She will accept and uphold the Church. She can be absolved.”

“The Minister of Government asked me to intercede. The U.S. papers have already broken the news of the engagement. What do you think will happen when European papers get wind of this?” He inclined toward me. “Your government is in turmoil. You must not proceed with the wedding.”

“Thank you for the warning, Councilor. I can only say that I intend to marry Ginny McDonald, with or without the permission of anyone, including my government.”

“Sir, you must listen to reason. Even if you’re allowed to marry Ms. MacDonald, your heirs will not be in line for succession to the throne. Your country will be without a leader.”

“Allow? The government can only make a recommendation to the King. When did we become a figurehead monarchy?”

“Desjardins will always be a monarchy.” He snapped his briefcase closed with an annoying click. “Your Royal Highness, the law prohibits the reigning monarch from marrying an individual unsuitable to be queen.”

“Ginny will make the people of Desjardins a queen as beloved as Britain’s Princess Diana. I’ve no doubt. Not one single doubt. Take this message to Johann Burke. I’m not backing down on my marriage or my heirs’ succession to the throne. There should be no problem. I am not yet reigning monarch.” I rose. “Good day, Councilor, you have much on your plate. You’d best start with this matter. Take your paper.”

“I urge you to keep it and read the articles.”

I was scarcely aware of the door closing behind him. The dark feeling that had shaded my morning now had an explanation. I’d be pitted against the King’s Council, the government, but, worst of all, the Catholic Church. I thought about how Henry VIII had persuaded the English Parliament declare him head of the Church of England when the Pope refused to annul his marriage to the Catholic Catherine of Aragon. With the Head Councilor’s visit, the white glove had dropped. It was to be open conflict. I might have shown courage in the face of adversity—or stubbornness—but alone I could admit I was worried. Worse was the pain of Ginny’s betrayal in keeping the truth from me.

Taking the newspapers, I wandered to the window to prepare myself for the coming tempest. Looking down at the people on the street, I made a silent vow. I’d find out the truth behind the lurid headlines. I didn’t believe that Ginny would lie to me by omission.

But there was a tiny seed of doubt inside me.

Returning to my desk, I sat until shadows crept across the floor and drew patterns on the walls. In my sojourn in the quiet and darkness, I learned a lot about myself. I knew one thing. I believed in Ginny. Before the next encounter, I must make a battle plan.

***

Dinner was a tense affair. We were too polite to each other, and often I’d look up to see my father studying me or my mother gazing at me as if I were a changeling. No doubt they knew the purpose of the Councilor in Chief’s visit but were reluctant to broach a subject that had become a ticking bomb.

When conversation stalled, and I saw my father collecting his thoughts to ask me about my plans, I excused myself, escaping upstairs to ring Eugenie. If she hadn’t heard, it was time to tell her about her future sister-in-law. Eugenie never chided me for being myself.

Sprawled across my bed, mobile in hand, I speed-dialed my sister. The phone rang and rang. I was on the verge of disconnecting when she answered with a breathless, “Hello.”

“Did I interrupt your hour on the treadmill?” I joked.

“Very funny. You interrupted far more than my exercise regimen, though I suppose you could term it exercise.” She spoke aside to her companion. “My brother.”

“Sorry. I didn’t know, and I need to talk with you, Eugenie. Things give every indication of going to hell in a handbasket.”

“You’re serious.” Her voice became all concern. “What’s wrong, Lex?”

“If you haven’t heard by now, you will by tomorrow. Father lifted the ban on the Desjardins news media.” I blew out a breath. “I’ve asked Ginny to marry me. Today, the Councilor in Chief paid me an official visit with an unofficial warning from the government. They do not intend for us to wed.”

“Dear God, I was afraid of something like this.” Again, she spoke away from the phone, but returned instantly. “Because she’s American? Or the divorce?” Her voice sharpened with a bitter edge. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re stuck in the nineteen-hundreds.”

“All of the above, then add that during the divorce she discovered she was pregnant.” I paced to the window, almost dropped my phone, and deflated on the edge of the window seat.

“She didn’t have an abortion,” Eugenie gasped. “If she did, you’re dead in the water.”

“Their ultimate weapon,” I hated to tell her something Ginny hadn’t seen fit to confide in me. “She did have an abortion. The US papers are asking the whereabouts of the child, but the braver tabloids are screaming ‘Is Princess Ginny a Baby Killer?’ The question is all over the social media.”

“Fuck,” she exhaled.

“Sister, your language.” I managed to laugh if only a short bark.

“That’s how I feel about it. I like Ginny.” She blew out a long breath. “I know you’ll want your son on the throne after you. Fuck. Just fuck.”

“I hate to humiliate her, but maybe if I asked her privately, surely she’d tell me.”

“And if she told you she didn’t? It would be her word against what appears to be the world’s opinion.”

“Would you like to be queen, Eugenie?”

“The only way—good lord, Lex, you wouldn’t.”

“Renounce the succession? Why not? It’s been done before.”

“But unlike the Duke of Windsor you want to be king.”

“Not without Ginny.” I gave a short laugh. “Edward VIII abdicated. I’m not king, so I won’t abdicate.”

“I’m catching the first flight in the morning. You and I need to talk. Alone.”

“I always love seeing you, but don’t think you’ll change my mind.”

“Someone has to. You mustn’t even consider abdication. You’d be miserable and hate her for it. Wasn’t it you who told me sometimes we just have to do our duty?”

“That was then. This is now. I’ll ring off, sister dear. Tomorrow, I’ll let you read the draft of my renunciation speech. I’ll quote Edward VIII, ‘I tell you that I have found it impossible to carry the heavy burden of responsibility and to discharge my duties as King as I would wish to do without the help and support of the woman I love.’ I know you, Eugenie, will support me in this, even if no one else does.”

The last thing I did before I fell into an exhausted sleep was to text Ginny. “Goodnight, mon amour. I love you. See you tomorrow.” But I received no reply.