Suspended: A Bad Boy Rockstar Romance

by Zoey Oliver

  She pats my cheek fondly when I release her from my bear hug. “How are you, dear? You look more handsome every time I see you!”

  I take her hand gently and hold it warmly between mine. “You’re full of shit,” I whisper with a twinkle in my eye, “but you know I love you for it.”

  She laughs and squeezes my hands. “I’ve missed you so.” Her laughter envelops me with warmth, a blanket of happiness from the simple and carefree days of childhood.

  My parents are kind and gracious people, but Mrs. Amesbury was the one I ran to for comfort as a small child, and the one I turned to for sage advice as a teenager. She’s the one who read me bedtime stories and put me in my place when I misbehaved as I grew older and more mischievous with each passing day.

  I stretch an arm to the dance floor. “Will you do me the honors of a dance?”

  “Oh my, I haven’t danced in ages!”

  “Come, you’ll dance circles around me, I know it.”

  We make our way to the center of the ballroom and assume a formal stance. I gently lead her across the intricate geometric patterns of the nineteenth century floor in time with the music.

  “How is Henry?” I ask.

  Her eyes cloud over a bit, and she dips her chin to the floor. My heart freezes inside my chest. Surely, her husband is still in remission. If the staff kept any such news from me and I missed being there for Mrs. Amesbury, I will reign hellfire upon their heads.

  “He’s hanging in there,” she says after a moment. Her tone is full of determination, but her eyes are watery.

  I twirl her slowly to the right and bring her back toward me. “Are you sure there’s nothing I can do? Get him into an experimental trial or arrange for treatment at a specialty center? You know that I will move heaven and earth to make it happen.”

  She smiles tenderly, but I see the deep pain she’s trying to hide from me. “I know you would, my dear. But it’s not for you to worry about.”

  “But I—”

  “No, Henry,” she says firmly. She straightens her posture and looks me squarely in the eye, her I-mean-business look that I received many times growing up. “That’s the end of that conversation. Let’s enjoy our dance and chat about pleasant things, shall we?”

  “Of course, anything you want, Gigi.” I give her a soft kiss on her wrinkled forehead and lean my cheek against her brow as we step lightly to the music, wishing I could trade all my power and riches for the ability to ensure her remaining days would be filled with nothing but joy.

  “I noticed you have your eye on someone,” she says.

  I pull back in surprise. “What?”

  “Well, don’t act shocked about it. You weren’t being too sly about it, my dear. But I can’t say I blame you — she just lights up the room, doesn’t she?” Mrs. Amesbury looks over her left shoulder, and I follow her gaze, to Abigail dancing with her father a dozen or so yards away.

  “She does,” I say quietly.

  That deep gold and amber dress she’s wearing is beautiful, but it doesn’t compare to the firelight glow of her skin when she’s naked in my chambers. And that smile, that laugh, it makes me want to be over there with her right now, her arm on mine. But I have to steal my time with her. A late night tryst in my room, a quick escapade in the library — they’re all I have, and I even those moments aren’t rightfully mine.

  “Now that’s something new,” Mrs. Amesbury interrupts my reverie. “I’ve never seen that look on you, Henry. I’m quite delighted by it.”

  I turn back to face her, and we spin in a wide circle in time with the music. “What look? What are you talking about?”

  “Love. The absolutely gobsmacked, head-over-heels variety.”

  “Perhaps it’s time to have your vision checked, because that is most certainly not the look on my face.”

  “Hmmph,” she chides. “You’ve never been able to lie to me, Henry. But perhaps you haven’t admitted this to yourself yet?”

  “There’s positively nothing to admit,” I swear. “She’s very attractive, yes. I can certainly admire her beauty,” I say, then lower my voice before continuing, “and perhaps want a bit of fun, yes, but it doesn’t mean anything more.”

  She raises her eyebrows. “If you say so, dear,” she says, not sounding at all convinced.

  “Come now!” It comes out rather loud, and I glance around, but no one seems to have paid note. I lower my voice. “How on earth could one possibly be in love with someone after only a few weeks?”

  She purses her lips and looks at me scoldingly. “Henry, really. You are a man-child some days.”

  “Not true,” I insist, squaring my shoulders. “I’ve had more than my fair share of female companions.”

  “I’m quite aware, dear,” she says dryly. “But your… frivolities had nothing to do with love.”

  I sigh. She is so impossibly difficult to argue with. “Well, I haven’t been partaking in those kinds of frivolities for quite some time. I’ve been on my best behavior.”

  She gives me a smile, the kind that says I’m a complete idiot. “So I’ve heard. But that doesn’t make you any less clueless about love, dear.”

  I open my mouth to argue, but no words come out. She’s right.

  “You better stop standing on the sidelines just staring at her and make your move soon,” Mrs. Amesbury says. “I’m to understand this is her courting period, and she’ll be snapped up faster than a buttered bobsled barreling down a cliff in the Alps.”

  I laugh. “Gigi, you really must come visit more. I miss your analogies — they were the highlight of my day.”

  “Don’t change the subject, Henry.”

  I’d forgotten how persistent Mrs. Amesbury is when she feels like she’s onto something — but I’m equally as stubborn and not about to back down.

  “Even if you’re right, which you aren’t, I’m not an approved suitor and for good reason. Like you said, you’ve seen the headlines. Prince Scandal. The Notorious Royal. She’s too smart to tie herself to the likes of me.”

  She looks over at Abigail for a long moment, and we both watch her exit off the dance floor gracefully. “Well, you’ll never know unless you try. She’d be good for you, Henry.”

  “And I’d be terrible for her. Trust me.”

  She purses her lips again but refrains from further comment.

  As we continue our dance, my eyes drift across the room, looking for Abi out of habit. I notice her at the arched doorway, leaving the ballroom with her attendant, Emily. Immediately, my curiosity takes over. I wonder if she’ll be alone in her room? Perhaps I can slip away from the dance soon and join her.

  When the song ends, Mrs. Amesbury insists that it’s time for her to go home, and I walk her out of the ballroom and down the wide, sweeping hallway running the length of the second story. After another hug and assurances that she will stay in touch, we part ways.

  When she’s a few feet away, she turns back for a moment, tilting her head toward me, her expression kind but serious. “Don’t wait too long to decide I’m right, dear.” She gives me a compassionate smile and then turns to the grand staircase.

  I watch as she makes her way down the steps, a bittersweet tug of longing lodged in my throat. Longing for the simpler days of my childhood, before my love life was front-page news, before I behaved like a royal screw-up, before the never-ending demands of the crown were laid at my feet.

  So much is changing, so much is out of my control.

  Eager to shake off the feeling and wrap myself in Abigail’s cheerful company and warm embrace, I turn right and head for the back stairs that lead up to her floor.

  Gigi’s words echo through my mind, and the reality of how little time I have left with Abi makes my stomach clench. I rush up the steps, two at a time, desperate to claim every moment I can with her.

  Chapter 17

  ABIGAIL

  Emily taps me on the shoulder. “Abigail, we’ve got company.”

  We’re standing in the corner of the ballro
om, and I’m bent over at a small table, trying to stir some sugar into my cup of hot tea without splashing it all over my dress. I look up to see a palace staff member approaching.

  “Good evening, Lady Strathmore,” he says when he reaches us.

  I straighten up and nod my head. “Good evening.”

  “Sir Eldridge and Mr. Kingston request a moment of your time.”

  I sigh. “What for, did they say?”

  He shakes his head. “I’m afraid not.”

  “Where?”

  “In the reading room. I’ll take you there.”

  “No, that won’t be necessary. I remember where it is.”

  “Very well, enjoy the rest of your evening.” He bows and retreats just as quickly as he arrived.

  “Well, hell,” I hiss to Emily.

  She gives me a wary look. “What do you think they want?”

  I throw my hands up. “Who knows. Maybe the Historical Council discovered another letter from that old bastard, and Sir Eldridge just can’t wait until morning to present a two-hour speech about it.”

  She purses her lips. “That sounds about right. Would you like me to go?”

  I glance at my tea cup, wishing I had something strong to spike it with so I could gulp it down quickly, an antidote to survive one of Sir Eldridge’s never-ending speeches. “No, no. I know you’re tired — go have some rest.”

  Emily squinches her mouth sideways. “Thanks. I am ready for some peace and quiet, so I’ll go back to the suite if you don’t mind.”

  “Of course not. I’ll be there as soon as I’m done with this nonsense.”

  “Oh?” She looks at me in surprise. “No hot date with Henry tonight?”

  I smile and lean close to Emily. “He said he would come by when he’s done with his festival duties for the evening.”

  “Ah, good,” she says, grinning happily. “I’ll keep the door to my side of the suite shut tight then. And wear the earplugs. You two get rather frisky, don’t you?” she whispers.

  “What!” My cheeks flush instantly. I’m mortified at the idea that anyone has overheard us, and doubly embarrassed that we might have interrupted Emily’s sleep.

  Emily bursts into laughter at my horrified expression. “It’s okay, Abi! I wish I had someone worth making a racket with.”

  I jab an elbow into her side. “You’re terrible! Maybe I’ll just smother you with a pillow when I get to the room, and then you won’t have to worry about any noise, hmm?”

  She wipes tears away from her eyes, still giggling. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be laughing, but that face! Oh my God, you are so modest sometimes, it just kills me.”

  I fight back a laugh and give her a deadpan look. “I’m leaving now. And when I’m done with this meeting, I’m going to find a very immodestly large, heavy pillow.”

  I clear my throat. “Gentleman.”

  Sir Eldridge and Mr. Kingston glance up from their conversation. They’ve had their heads bowed together whispering furiously for several minutes.

  “Can we keep this brief? I have company waiting for me.”

  I’m seated in a wingback chair in the small library on the second floor, which houses an impressive collection of first editions and rare books dating back to the sixteenth century. There’s a small fireplace to my right and a marble coffee table between myself and the advisors. After greeting me they took their seats opposite me and resumed a private conversation amongst themselves, the length of which is now boarding on downright rude.

  “Yes, of course, sorry my Lady,” Mr. Kingston says, settling back into his chair, and Sir Eldridge does the same.

  “What is this about?” I ask.

  Mr. Kingston glances at Sir Eldridge, and an unspoken exchange takes place. The senior advisor nods agreeably and turns to look at me as Mr. Kingston leans forward, elbows on his knees.

  “I’m just going to lay this out straight, if you don’t mind, Lady Strathmore,” Mr. Kingston says.

  “Please do,” I implore. “Just cut to the chase and tell me what needs said so we can all get on with our evening.”

  “As you wish.” He clasps his hands together loudly. “The situation is as such — we have recently discovered two important pieces of information, and we’d like to share our thoughts about these things with you.”

  “Certainly,” I nod. “Please proceed.”

  “Now, it would behoove us to warn you that the first matter is of a personal nature, so I hope you’ll permit us to speak frankly, since there’s no delicate way to approach this.”

  My stomach clenches a bit, but I grip the armrests of the chair and straighten my back. “Okay. Go on.”

  “It’s come to our attention that you are involved with His Royal Highness, Prince Henry.”

  My mouth drops open, and my heart freezes in my chest.

  Sir Eldridge holds up a hand. “It’s okay, my Lady.”

  The hell it is. I stare at the two advisors in panic.

  “What’s discussed here will go no further than this room,” the senior advisor says. “We have not shared this bit of information with your parents, and we have no intention to.”

  I swallow hard and take a deep breath, struggling to regain my composure. “What does Prince Henry have to do with anything? And how would it be any of your business, even if it were true?”

  They exchange a glance again, and I take another deep breath to hold back the barrage of profanity I’d like to yell right now. What the hell are you looking at each other for? Just say it, dammit!

  Mr. Kingston speaks. “It’s an unfortunate situation, and normally we would have no cause whatsoever to get involved with your, um, romantic, uh, activities, but we are in the middle of quite an unusual situation here, aren’t we? We are sworn to look out for the best interests of your family and the estate as a whole. Any involvement with His Grace puts things in jeopardy, as you can surely understand.”

  I give them both a long stare. “How so?”

  They shift uncomfortably and glance at one another again. An almost imperceptible nod of agreement passes between them.

  “The chastity clause of the agreement, my Lady,” Sir Eldridge says, turning back to me. “You cannot afford to tempt fate, as it were. It would be a terribly unfortunate turn of events to arrive at your wedding day, with all of this sordid mess nearly behind you, only to be found in breach of the agreement because you are no longer a maiden, so to speak.”

  I snort loudly, not caring if it’s impolite and unladylike of me. They think my worries will be over once I’m married off? It might bring security and stability to my family, but my troubles will just be beginning. I’m the one who will have to live with a man I don’t love and watch my dreams evaporate before my eyes.

  “I am well aware that I must remain a virgin,” I say slowly and as firmly as I can muster without yelling. “I am not a helpless dimwit with no self-control.”

  “Of course, of course,” Sir Eldridge says, lowering his voice in an obvious attempt to be soothing, but it just comes off as patronizing to my ears. “But be that as it may, there is another concern.”

  “Which is?” I’m on the verge of standing up and walking out of this ridiculous meeting.

  “Prince Henry is, well, he’s a very powerful man with nearly unlimited wealth, and yes, he’s from an illustrious family,” Sir Eldridge says. “But, regrettably, he has a rather notorious wild streak. And he’s had a lot of, um, bad press surrounding him.

  “He’s not to be trusted, unfortunately, my Lady,” Mr. Kingston adds.

  “Again, I am not a naïve imbecile.” The words leave me like steel darts aimed at their heads. “I know of his reputation. I’ve read the papers, I’ve heard the stories. How is any of it relevant to the agreement?”

  “If anyone else discovers this tryst is taking place between the two of you, it will throw quite a bad light on you, my Lady, however unfair that might be. And it’s likely to cause some, if not all, the suitors to withdraw from consideration.”
/>   I sigh. “Really? This is what you brought me here for? To admonish me for having the first bit of fun I’ve had in years?”

  “That wasn’t our intention. We simply—”

  “Well, that’s what’s happened, isn’t it?” I lean forward, at the end of my patience. “Gentleman, I’m a grown woman. If I’m capable enough to decide to take on the challenge of meeting this agreement’s demands — which will upend my entire life, I might add — then I am also most certainly capable of deciding how I spend my free time and who I spend it with.”

  Fury is rising in my chest. How dare they scold me!

  “And I’m definitely entitled to enjoy myself,” I continue, the indignation pouring out me like hot steam, “while I still can, in whichever ways I deem appropriate, regardless of whether either of you or anyone else approves of my choice of company.”

  The advisors grow silent and look at me for a long moment, then at each other. Sir Eldridge sighs heavily and gestures at the coffee table. Mr. Kingston picks up a folder from the marble table and stands up, reaching it out to me.

  I stare at him coolly as I take the folder.

  “We were hoping not to have to show you this,” Sir Eldridge says, his voice distressed. “But, if you are not planning to dissolve your relationship with the Prince, then you need to know this.”

  My hands are trembling as I open the folder, partly from anger and partly from the apprehensive expressions of the advisors, as if they’ve handed me a live rattlesnake. Inside the folder is a small stack of photographs. The top picture is of Henry and a woman I don’t recognize, sitting on an elegant couch together, his hand on her leg, her arm wrapped around his. Her wavy red hair is spilling across his shoulder, and they’re laughing at something off camera.

  “What is this?” I look up at the advisors.

  Mr. Kingston clears his throat and shifts awkwardly in his chair, crossing and then uncrossing his legs. “Pictures of the Prince and the company he’s been keeping lately, my Lady,” he finally says.