The Heir and the Spare (22 page)

“Wow, Preston, that's really . . . deep.” I got the impression he spoke from experience.

Preston scratched the back of his blond head. “Yeah, well, I'll see you guys later.” With a wave, he jogged off in the direction of his class.

“Don't give her the power. I think I can do that.” I turned to Edmund, smiling.

“You're going to be fine. I'll be there with you. Plus, she's awfully old and frail; you've got a definite advantage.”

I laughed. “That's awful.”

Dressed in an outfit Caroline had helped me put together, I went down to meet Edmund. From the stairs, I spotted him. Pausing, I admired how his build seemed perfectly made for suits.

He turned, smiling. In three steps he stood at the bottom of the stairs. I was tempted to jump into his arms and kiss him.

“You know, I can think of much better ways to spend our time. Are you sure you really want to go?” I slid my hands around his neck and played with the little curls of hair there. They were my favorite.

“Nice try. You're going.” He pulled my hands down and held them in his warm ones. “Don't be nervous. You look quite smart. The duchess can't help but approve.”

I slipped my hands from his and did a quick spin. “You really think so?” Caroline had selected a simple knee-length deep blue dress. I paired it with the Eiffel Tower necklace Edmund had given me. It rarely left my neck.

“I know so. You're beautiful.” He clasped my hand. “Shall we? The car's waiting out front. Let's get this over with. What do you say, since we'll be in London, we hit the Victoria and Albert Museum before we head back?”

“That'd be fantastic.” Having something positive to focus on after the meeting with Clarice helped.

Outside, photographers snapped pictures from a short distance as we climbed into the black Rolls Royce the duchess had sent. It was an older model, well preserved, but the windows lacked tinting. Flashes popped from either side of the car. I forced myself to keep my head up.
This is what it must be like to be a zoo animal.

Once we pulled away, I blew out the breath I'd kept pent up. “So, what can you tell me about my grandmother? Aside from her being old, ill, and a bit of a hag?”

“She's quite well off financially. I know she has several homes and a pretty extensive art collection. From what my parents say, she's extremely opinionated. Although, you could argue that might fall under the hag category, I suppose.” He softly chuckled.

I took a deep breath, feeling unsure and far from confident.

“You're going to be fine. Preston was right. Don't give her any power; she's not worth it.”

I nodded and turned to look out the window. Trees and cars flew by as my stomach tied itself into queasy knots. I could picture it now, meeting Clarice and either crying or puking on her. Possibly both. If I puked, I'd definitely start crying.

Wordlessly, Edmund reached for my hand. A gentle squeeze and a sympathetic glance made me feel better. He didn't let go for the duration of the drive.

The closer we got to her, the harder my heart hammered.

“Breathe, Evie.”

“Where are we?” I asked, taking a shaky breath. The area looked elegant and expensive, with fancy cars, large houses, and well-dressed people ambling along the frosty sidewalks.

“Kensington Square.” Edmund leaned so he could see out my window.

“It's beautiful.”

The chauffeur pulled to a stop in front of a four-story, white stone townhouse.

We can't be here already. I'm not ready.
How would it look if I asked the driver to do a lap around the block?

I looked up the path to a black door, flanked by colorfully potted seasonal cabbage plants. A short, wrought-iron gate guarded the pathway.

My heartbeat sped up and my breathing sounded shallow. Edmund's hand squeezed mine. I felt his gaze on me.

“I can't do this. I don't want to do this.” I frantically turned in my seat to face him. I knew I looked as terrified as I felt.

Edmund's hands cradled my face. “Evie, take a deep breath.” He gave me a reassuring smile. “You're going to be fine. She's an old woman who has no power over you. Don't forget that. She should consider herself lucky you agreed to meet with her.” He leaned in and kissed me.

What started off as a small graze escalated into something more ardent. My nerves disappeared and I focused only on Edmund and the sensations he created inside me. My fingers threaded through his hair until I heard someone clear his throat.

Edmund and I pulled apart and looked at the driver, who smiled at us in the rearview mirror.

“We've arrived at our destination.” He then hopped out and came around to open our door.

I gave Edmund a sheepish look. He outright laughed as he clambered out. The driver in his crisp black suit offered me his hand as I exited. I couldn't meet his eyes. Looking at the ground, I turned as red as one of London's famous telephone boxes.

“I was hoping to take your mind off things for a moment. Did it help?” Edmund whispered when the driver walked away.

“Mmm, quite effective.” I nodded and smoothed my skirt. I paused at the gate, staring at the beautiful house looming before me.

Mom lived here.

I stared at the four levels of white-latticed windows, wondering which one had been her bedroom. I imagined Mom walking through the gate and rushing off to some fabulous museum.

A longing for her struck me, so intense it nearly doubled me over. Clutching at my abdomen with both hands, I took a steadying breath.

“Are you sure you're okay?” Edmund rubbed my back and tilted my chin up with his other hand.

“Yeah, it's just that my mom was here
,
like
actually
here. She lived in this house. Maybe some of her stuff is still here.” Looking up at his face, I felt the ache subside. Thank goodness he was here.

“Let's see if we can't find a bit of your mum in this old house.” With a warm grin, he held the gate open for me. “You ready?” he asked, his hand hesitating at the doorbell.

At my nod, he pushed the button. Through the oversized door I heard the chimes. It wasn't long before a man in a sharply pressed jet-black jacket, wearing gray slacks and stark white gloves, opened the door.

Mentally, I named him Jeeves. He looked older than dirt.

“Yes?” He looked down his nose, squinting at Edmund at me.

I opened my mouth and a very undignified squeak slipped out. Clearing my throat, I managed, “Hello, I'm Evangeline Gray. I have a two o'clock appointment with the duchess.”

“Yes, Miss Gray. Please come in. I shall notify Her Grace that you and a guest have arrived.” He eyed Edmund from head to toe, clearly displeased to have an unannounced visitor, even if it was a royal one. “Please wait here.” He pointed to the foyer as he walked through an arched doorway to the right.

“Why do I feel like I'm in trouble for bringing you?” I muttered, on the verge of nervously laughing.

“You're in so much trouble,” Edmund whispered, as one corner of his lips twitched up.

The black-and-white marble floor was sleek and polished to a high sheen. Benches sat on either side, and a hall tree for coats, hats, gloves, and whatever else guests might bring perched just beyond.

A circular wooden table with a grand yellow floral centerpiece warmed the foyer. Above the table hung a glittering chandelier.

This is what Mom threw away.

The butler returned minutes later. “The duchess will be with you shortly. Please, have a seat.” He indicated the benches then disappeared again.

“Okay.” Edmund watched him, his brow furrowed. “This is different.”

“How so?”

“Usually, you're taken to a parlor or sitting room. Leaving us out here is . . .” He shook his head. “Never mind.”

Twenty minutes later, Jeeves shuffled back in. “The duchess is ready to see you.”

Edmund stood stiffly. “About time,” he softly huffed.

I suspected even the ancient butler heard him.

Jeeves glared at Edmund, his furry white brows lowering over his rheumy eyes. “If you'll follow me, Miss.”

He guided us through the arched doorway on the right and down a hallway. Jeeves stopped at the last door and rapped lightly. “Your Grace, a Miss Evangeline Gray and guest to see you.”

Guest?

“You may enter.” A gravelly voice, deeper than I'd expected, called out.

Edmund and I exchanged a glance. Like me, he had to be wondering why he'd been labeled my guest and not properly introduced.

Jeeves had to recognize him, right?

Who wouldn't recognize the prince—well, aside from me?

The butler opened the large white doors and in we went.

Over the back of a tall brown leather chair, a little silver bun peeked out. The duchess sat unmoving, staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Shelves of books, a massive dark oak desk, and two cushioned armchairs furnished the room. It reminded me of a man cave, not a feminine touch in sight.

I itched to reach and spin her chair around.
Please let this go well. Let her be nice.

Edmund's hand settled on my back and rubbed. I wondered if he could feel my racing heartbeat.

The chair slowly turned.

I couldn't breathe.

This is it.

Clarice and I were in the same room. About to meet. This could be a new connection to my mother.

Now facing us, Clarice silently stared at me with a sour expression. She opened her mouth, but stopped when her eyes fully took in my
guest
. Her thin silver eyebrows shot up and a wrinkled hand went to her throat.

“Your Highness, what a pleasure. It's always such a delight to be in your presence. Please, forgive me for not getting up to properly receive you. I fear my health won't allow it these days.”

“It's perfectly fine. There's nothing to forgive.” He smiled warmly at her.

“Clearly, my staff needs to be educated. I did not realize my
granddaughter
would be bringing such an illustrious companion with her.” The word "granddaughter" sounded acidic leaving her lips.

“Please, don't trouble yourself. I'm sure Evie is the one you're eager to finally meet.” Edmund flashed Clarice his most charming smile and took a small step back, putting the focus on me.

“Indeed.” She spared me a momentary glance. “How is your family, Your Highness?” She refocused her attention on Edmund, continuing to ignore me.

I shifted my stance self-consciously, feeling invisible.
I don't belong here.

“All healthy and well.” His voice sounded tight.

Clarice nodded and her smile faded to a grim, disapproving line. “Won't you both be seated and we can get down to business.”

We sank into the cushioned armchairs opposite her. Clarice towered over us at her desk. Despite her frail stature, she looked menacing.

I clasped my hands together in my lap, trying to appear unaffected.

“I should warn you.” She glowered at me. “I intend to say my piece. I'll not hold back simply because you've brought an audience with you.”

“Fire away.” I met her gaze with nonchalance, proud of myself for not showing the fear that coursed through every inch of me.

“I demand to know why you told the press of your association with me. I can only assume you did it to look more desirable to the prince and the royal family. Having some sort of titled connections would certainly help your feeble case for attention.” Her face was full of disgust as she glared me down.

Beside me, Edmund stiffened. His hand tightly clutched the pommel at the end of his chair's arm.

Clarice's venomous words shocked me. They probably shouldn't have, but they did. So, that's how she wants to play this, embarrass and belittle me. Well, that isn't going to happen. She could try all she wanted, but I refused to let her make me feel small.
She doesn't have the power.

Straightening my spine, I met her glare with one of my own. “Lovely to meet you too,
Grandma.
”

“Don't act like I'm the one being uncouth. You're the little chit who told the press.” Her accusing eyes turned to slivers. In an icy voice she continued, “No doubt your father's subpar genes are surfacing.”

She was old, sick, and frail, but I wanted to deck her.

“I forbade your mother to marry outside her class. She accused me of being elitist.” She shook her head with a dry laugh. “No mother wants her daughter to marry common gutter trash. It's a blessing she never lived long enough to see you become the grasping, deceitful, little crown hunter you are. You can't possibly think I would ever claim you as my flesh and blood. You'll get nothing from me.”

Fury flamed inside me.
How dare she
.

Edmund stood, nearly knocking over his chair, and leaned onto Clarice's desk. She sat back, startled. The muscles in his back were tense and taut under his jacket. Anger rolled off of him.

“Stop. Right. There. You are out of line. If you must blame someone for the press finding out, it's me. My
choosing
to be around Evie makes her a target and prompted the press to dig up anything they could find. Your Grace, Evie is amazing. Which is why I love . . . being around her. I pursued her, not the other way around.”

Clarice's mouth popped open. Her eyes sparked with anger. She looked livid.

Edmund remained standing, as if challenging Clarice to say something cruel.

How did we end up here so quickly?
My legs ached to run. I wanted to find a place I could curl up, hide, and cry. This had gone so much worse than I'd imagined.
Dammit, if Edmund hadn't insisted, I wouldn't even be here.

Anger boiled inside me. I clenched my fists, unsure who to direct my rage at. I hated Clarice, but I was pissed at Edmund. Hell, I was even mad at myself.