“That’s also why the UnReals are so unhappy, right?”
He pulled a face. “Yeah. It’s why we take them so seriously.”
“Why don’t you just give a bit more power back to the people then?”
It was so simple to the American mind, he realized on a sigh. “It’s not in our constitution. There’s protection for the population if one of the reigning kings goes off the rails and starts trying to create an authoritarian rulership; ways and means the government can prevent that from happening, but the DeSauviers have never been like that.
“The majority of Veronians are happy with the status quo. If I do say so myself, we’ve done a bloody good job of ruling the country.”
“How big a majority?” Perry asked suspiciously, pulling back to look at him as he replied.
“Over eighty per cent, I reckon.” The statistics backed him up on that too.
The people of his country loved his family.
Opinion often swayed one way or another when it came time for certain laws to be implemented, but at their heart, the Veronians wanted to remain with their monarch. That didn’t stop radicals from wanting his family out of power, however. Declaring their need for independence from a monarchist state.
“Seriously? So high?”
He nodded. “We’re a very popular family. Things changed a little when Arabella was Crown Princess.” He grimaced. “She wasn’t very warm, and though my mother isn’t either, Arabella looked like a deep freezer in comparison. The prospect of her being Queen didn’t please a lot of people; especially as she’s considered old guard. Her father is very conservative, and really old fashioned—with her as Queen, the people believed she and through her, her father, would have more of a say.”
“You run middle of the road now, don’t you?” she questioned.
“Yeah. Pretty much. My father’s liberal-minded. We only get conservative on certain issues like gun control and…” He grunted. “The last time we had a real problem was over prisons. A large part of the population wanted laxer prisons; wanted to focus on rehabilitation rather than punishment.”
“Wow, that’s totally the opposite to what I’m used to in the States,” she murmured, wide-eyed.
“I know.”
“What did your father want?”
“He saw the recidivism laws… he wanted to promote rehabilitation like the majority. But there was enough of a stink in parliament to soften the laws that went through. He wasn’t happy about it, but he allowed the democratic way to reign.”
“The people voted?”
“No. The government did.”
“That sucks.”
“Yeah. A lot of people view the monarch as having their voice, which I know is really alien to what most people believe.
“The parties wanted more control, harsher prison sentencing, and they won. My father only has so much sway. He can veto a law, but he decided not to. Not when it would cause such a stink.”
“That was very diplomatic of him.”
George smirked. “This government has another year of power before there’s an election. My father has staying power. I guarantee the first law the new government puts into practice will be a change to prison laws.”
She laughed. “I think I like him more than I did before.”
George grinned. “I’m glad. He’s going to be your father-in-law.”
She froze. “What?”
He cocked a brow. “What?”
Perry hit his arm. “Don’t even joke about that.”
“If you think I’m letting you get away now I’ve got you right where I want you, you’re nuts.” He huffed to compound the ridiculousness of her statement. “You’re mine. Ours,” he said softly, urging her to understand, needing her to accept that.
“I-I can’t be Queen, George. Don’t be silly. Edward hasn’t even slept with me yet; he’s sure as hell not going to want to marry me.”
George hid a smile. “You don’t know what you set in motion the other day by declaring you and he were dating, do you?”
Her eyes rounded. “What did I do?”
“It was as good as saying you were close to engaged.”
If her eyes had rounded, it was nothing to the way her mouth gaped. He tapped her bottom lip.
“It’s too late to back out now, baby doll.” He wrapped his arms around her waist, hauled her against his chest and squeezed her. “You were made to be mine. You said he calls to you, that’s exactly what he does to me. He needs us, Perry. He needs us to support him when the time comes for him to be King. Can you do that? Can you be there for him?”
She was shaking as he asked the questions, and he hated himself for overwhelming her, but these were questions he needed her to ask herself, questions he needed her to answer.
“I-I can’t be Q-Queen, George,” she whispered faintly, her pupils pin pricks. “I’m a scientist.”
“You’re exactly what we need you to be. That’s all that matters.”
Her glassy eyes seemed to focus at his words and she gulped. “You’ll help?”
His smile was wide and proud and, he admitted to himself, relieved.
“I’ll be at your side every step of the way.”
She sagged into his arms. He pressed a kiss to the top of her hair, wondering how it was that the future of the Veronian Royal Family, rested squarely on this woman’s shoulders.
Chapter Nineteen
Perry sucked down a breath of air and tried not to think about the smell. Rancid? Yeah. Rotten? Without a doubt.
If she could have pegged her nostrils shut, she would have, but at the same time, Xavier’s experiments were fascinating.
She turned to look at him, and saw he wasn’t focused on his work but on her.
A smile creased her lips at his focus, something that was most definitely a compliment, and she murmured, “Hey.”
He grinned back. “Hey yourself.”
“Whatcha starin’ at?” she teased.
“A beautiful lady. It’s not often I let one into my secret lab.”
Laughter bubbled from her lips. “Oh yeah, I’m sure.”
His smile turned into a seriously somber frown. “No. I mean it. Most people aren’t interested in what I do unless I’m paying them. Though I’m sure some of the Court’s ladies would really like that, deep down, that’s not going to happen in my life time.” He rolled his eyes. “It’s just nice to have you in here. You pretty the place up,” he said then winked. “And, more than that, actually seem interested in what I’m doing.”
“I am.” No word of a lie, either. He was working on some fascinating shit here.
Literally. That was probably where the stench came from.
She’d known that when she’d come here, and the scientist in here respected his experiments and his goals. The woman? She just wanted to get the hell away from whatever was stinking the place up.
Jeez Louise, it was strong. A bit like someone had died mixed with someone who’d been eating bad Chinese food.
Her throat closed at the thought. She’d had Chinese food two nights ago—had almost been stunned shitless to be served cordon bleu Chinese takeout on golden platters and crystal goblets.
Takeout Royal-style was surprisingly hard to get used to.
“I lost you.”
Her glance focused on him a second. “No. You didn’t,” she said softly, aware his rueful smile was loaded with disappointment. “My mind wandered.”
“Wandered is a synonym for lost.”
She stuck out her tongue. “Perhaps, but not in this instance.”
He stepped away from his workbench which was in the back quarter of the epic glasshouse he’d brought her to just over an hour ago.
She’d never seen anything like it save for in a documentary she’d seen once of old British noble estates. Where one of the family’s ancestors had created a conservatory, a literal Wintergarten, for rare and difficult to yield plants.
All of this edifice was made of glass save for the brick wall
that attached it to the family estate.
It was reflective, so there was privacy. The temperature on Veronia was always pretty mild, but in here, it was humid and sticky. She didn’t mind though, mostly because she wore white linen shorts and a black camisole as he’d told her when he’d called to ask if she wanted to hang out, to dress casually.
Of course, when she’d seen his idea of casual, that had brought on a few uncomfortable moments.
In his designer jeans and an expensive linen shirt, he’d looked casual too. Just rich. Very rich. His elegant bloodlines seeping from every pore, whereas she felt sure she just looked like the Southern Belle who’d never really understood the appeal in mint juleps and had never had any of the requisite manners or capability of wielding a fan.
“I was just thinking that the last time I ate takeout, George and I were camped out on his living room floor. We’d taken over the coffee table and it was loaded with aluminium dishes and paper boxes. I was drinking beer and he had some fancy ass red wine. In the background, we were watching ‘Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency,’ but we were bitching about some crap I can’t remember.”
He blinked at her. “That’s remarkably specific.”
“There’s a reason,” she teased, amused at his response to her wandering. “I was thinking about how this place stank of someone’s stomach contents, a someone who’d eaten leftover takeout that had gone bad.”
His nose wrinkled, then he nodded. “As gross as that is, you’re right. Now I think about it, I can smell it too.”
She laughed. “It’s a yeasty smell, isn’t it? I guess it’s something in your fertilizer.”
He rubbed his chin, his eyes turning distant as he nodded. “Weird how I’ve only just smelled that. I wonder if in the fermentation process there’s…” His words trickled off as he scrambled to reach for a piece of paper where he made copious notes about whatever his realization meant to him.
She left him to it. Well aware how vital those epiphanies could be, and content to let him work it out.
She turned away from him and stared at the beautiful plants filling the glasshouse.
There were eight narrow rows of plots. Long, thin lines that were loaded with so many different types of species, that Perry wished botany was her field too so she could recognize them.
They were not only beautiful, but with Xavier’s wealth and status, she had to assume she was looking at some very rare, and some very difficult to grow plants.
Trees soared thirty, forty feet in the air. Huge leaves provided a dark canopy overhead which made the glasshouse far less bright than it ought to have been.
Each of the rows was lined with a fancy stone border, before a pleasant white pebble path added a clean brightness to the dull ground before being segmented off into soil once more and the next row.
She peered overhead and saw a tree that looked like a weird palm tree had shot thirty feet into the air. Wondering what he’d do when it overshot the glasshouse’s roof, she turned back to him and saw he’d stopped writing and was instead studying her once more.
“You miss the simplicity of that moment, don’t you?”
His insight wasn’t altogether surprising; her wistful tone had said it all. But she appreciated the doggedness in not letting the topic drop.
She nodded. “I had the Veronian royal version of Chinese food the other night.”
Xavier snorted. “That’s only because Marianne won’t let Philippe have too much MSG. If you were eating with us, we could just buy the regular stuff.”
“Panda Express dishes?” she teased, and he grinned.
“Whatever floats your boat, milady.”
Perry sighed, rubbed a finger down her nose. “I just never figured this would be my life.”
“Who does figure that, Perry?” he asked gently.
She narrowed her eyes at him, then taking him at his word, nodded. “You’re right. I’m not complaining, Xav. Not at all. I just… sometimes, it’s a lot to process. In Boston, I have to get a visitor’s pass to see these kinds of gardens. Here? I get a personalized tour from a Duke.”
“A Duke who thinks he’s falling in love with you.”
His comment had her jerking to a halt.
Only she and George had spoken of love thus far; but they’d known each other so long, that it was a natural extension of their relationship. At least, that was what she was telling herself.
Edward and she hadn’t really even talked about lusting over one another. Though the attraction between them burned so damn hotly, she wasn’t sure she’d survive it when they eventually did get down and dirty together.
As for her and Xavier, they’d had a less than normal course. She’d heard of Edward, George had mentioned him a lot. But Xavier?
He’d been conspicuously absent from all of George’s talk of family.
In fact, the notion had her frowning.
“Xavier?” she asked softly.
He nodded.
“I’m going to change the subject, but I don’t want you to think it’s because I’m avoiding what you said. You already know that you’ve spun my world upside down. All three of you have. I don’t know whether I’m coming or going.”
“More coming than going, one would hope,” he said with a wry edge to his tone. She knew she’d hurt him, but he was taking it on the chin because she could sense he was aware of how overwhelmed she felt by all this.
In less than three weeks, her entire world had toppled on its head. In a good way, granted. But still. Her life was turning into a gangbang.
Yeah, that was a lot to take in. She grinned at his comment though, because it wasn’t often his humor bled through.
Like her, he was serious and focused on his work. That was one thing they had in common, but she wanted to see the softer side of him too. The playful edge.
“Why didn’t George mention you to me?”
He blinked, and Perry knew she’d really surprised him with where her question had taken him.
“He didn’t mention you at all.” She shook her head at her own remark. “I’m surprised, because as far as I can tell, you get on great.”
“We do. But we had a falling out.”
Perry could sense from the stiffness of his tone, he felt awkward. This was a topic he didn’t want to discuss, and yet, she was close to them both and he was aware that her curiosity had to be answered.
Another joy of being with a fellow scientist. They understood how curiosity worked. That if her need for answers wasn’t fed, it wouldn’t do them any good.
“About what?”
He pulled a face. “Women, of course.”
Ah, that was why he was feeling so awkward.
She bit back a grin, then her brow puckered in confusion as she processed that. “I’m surprised. I’ve never seen George be willing to fall out over a woman.”
“He’d fall out over you,” came the swift assurance, and she could tell he was dead serious. Despite herself, that made her feel better. George was so damn gorgeous, Victoria Secrets’ Angels would drool over him—hell, they probably had at some point or another. He’d been a partier in his early twenties, or so he’d told her.
In comparison, she was just plain old Perry. The aforementioned Southern Belle without the Belle part.
“So, what was special about this woman then?” she asked, trying not to be jealous. She didn’t own the man’s past after all.
“My mother died when I was twenty-two. Father only passed two years ago. He was a bit of a roué I’d suppose you’d call him. Darted from woman to woman after my mother died who he genuinely loved.
“Anyway, he liked one particular woman. Caroline L’Argeneaux. They got engaged, and I wasn’t very happy about the match as she was thirty years younger than him and a terrible gold-digger. But for the first time since Mother’s death, he seemed to actually care about someone other than himself so I was happy for him.
“When the engagement was announced, the family gritted their teeth. Georg
e wasn’t there though. He was finishing up university, if memory serves, in Britain.” He scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “He returned home, found out who his soon to be step-aunt was going to be, and the truth came out.”
She frowned. Whatever she’d expected it hadn’t been this. “What truth?” she demanded.
“He and Caroline had been at university together.”
“Boy, she was young, wasn’t she?”
Xavier’s grimace said it all. “Far too young. He was a fool, but by the end, he was a hurt fool.” He sighed. “George told him of all these things she’d done while at university. She’d been a drug dealer, for God’s sake. Some bloody gang had used her to get to her rich friends.
“My father knew that the Duchess of Ansian couldn’t have that kind of past, but he was stubborn. Refused to believe it. George told my father that she’d cheated on her finals, and that there was proof she’d paid off a professor…” He waved a hand. “The list went on and on. Truthfully, it couldn’t have been worse, and my father was more of a fool for being stubborn about it. He should have just dumped her and gotten on with things.
“Only, he couldn’t. So, George being the clodhopper he is, decided to take matters into his own hands. He seduced Caroline and took pictures. Showed my father.”
“Oh shit,” Perry breathed. She winced too—it was such a typical George thing to do. Step right into the shit and not think about how to get out of the pile of crap without staining everything around him.
“Yeah. Crap is the word. My father was devastated, and I was furious. I wanted him to leave Caroline, but he would have done. Given time. He was a fool in love, but not a total idiot. The Duchess of this house has to be beyond reproach. He knew that.” He scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “Anyway, I was very angry at George. We came to blows. I broke his nose and he sulked over it. For a very long time.”
She blinked. “Whatever I’d expected to hear, it wasn’t that.”
He pulled a face. “We have colourful pasts.”
Perry studied him a second. “Far more colourful than mine. The only exciting thing I’d done before this trip was to have a prince as a friend. Now?” She flared her eyes with amusement. “Well, colourful isn’t the word.”
Perry and Her Princes Page 21
