Royal Scandal

by Marquita Valentine

  “What about me and my boys?”

  She tilts her head to one side. “I think you need to think about your future, too, because in the past ten years I’ve never heard you call them your sons.”

  Della’s right, but that’s not what’s pressing at this moment. I think this is the first time in my life that I’ve wished I could command Della to stay married to me. Use my royal prerogative to lord my rights over hers.

  But I can’t because while I’m a liar, I am not a bastard.

  “Come to bed with me at least. Let me hold you and in the morning we can sort it out.” I’m all but begging at this point.

  “You’ll just confuse me and that’s not enough time.” She begins to pull away and I break out the big guns, as she’s fond of saying.

  “What about Aiden and Pierce? What will they think if you’re not here?”

  “I don’t know.” Shoulders sagging, she draws in a deep breath. “I don’t know.”

  “They’ll want to see you at breakfast.”

  “Fine.”

  At her acquiescence, triumph fills me. “If you’ll give me a moment, I’ll join you.” I let go of her and dash off to the bathroom, then come back to an empty room. “Della?”

  It’s stupid to say her name out loud, like we’re playing hide-and-seek and she’ll jump out at any moment to get me to chase her.

  I stalk to the door, nearly pulling it off its hinges, and look for her up and down the hallway. I can’t find her anywhere. It’s like she’s disappeared into thin air. Only I know she hasn’t because she knows this house. It’s like a second home to her, and she is familiar with every inch of it.

  A hidden panel in the wall slides back.

  Theo steps out, drink in his hand and an unlit cigar between his teeth. “Fancy meeting you here.”

  “I’m looking for Della.”

  “That sounds like fun.” His brows wriggle. “I’ll help.”

  “No.”

  “But I’m enormously good at games.” His glassy eyes can’t quite focus. “All Sinclairs are.”

  “Go to bed, brother. You’re drunk.”

  He tips his glass to me. “Have to forget the past three days somehow. Have to forget that I don’t belong here.”

  I want to go to Della. I need to go to her. Demand she comes home. Or toss her over my shoulder like my ancestors would have done.

  Except…Della needs time away from me, and for once my brother needs my time.

  “Now that we’re not really brothers and none of us but you are legit, I don’t see any reason for us to keep living here. I’ll have to get a job.” He sways, his smile painful to look at. “Can you imagine? Me with a real job instead of the marketing shite I do for Sinclair Enterprises?”

  “Good to know you take your job seriously.”

  He snorts. “Like you’ve taken yours to heart. How many times a week do you actually go in? Do you know your secretary’s name?”

  “At least three days a week and”—I search my brain—“it’s Branford.”

  He rolls his eyes. “That’s the name of your home secretary’s dog. No one works at SE, except the employees. They don’t need us. None of us are needed except Imogen, unless they find out about her, too. Wouldn’t that be the fucking joke of the century? ‘Sorry, but your queen’s a bastard. Try again later.’ ”

  I grab his shirt and slam him against the wall. “You will be silent. We are Sinclairs and I don’t give a good damn who our parents are. Hell, for all we know, our mother could have lied to Beaumont. The fucking butler could have sired us. Or perhaps she didn’t know and preyed on Beaumont’s devotion and love to her. Did you think of that? Did you think that perhaps our mother was a lonely, bored sociopath, just like our father? For God’s sake, they fucked with people’s lives for their own amusement.”

  Theo’s blue eyes go wide. “I don’t know what to think.”

  Normally, I can’t reason with Theo, and a drunk Theo—there is no hope in that. “Stop thinking. Stay with your family. Stay here at St. Claire. There is no reason for you to leave.”

  “No reason for me to stay.” Raw vulnerability flashes in his eyes. “Before I was nothing compared to you and Imogen. Fuck, even Char had a bloody role. And I was perfectly content with that because I was secure…I was a Sinclair. Now…I am worthless.”

  Slowly I let go of his shirt and pull him to me, his drink crashing to the floor along with his unlit cigar as he holds me tight. I can’t remember the last time my brother’s actively leaned on me for support.

  “You will always be a Sinclair. Always be my brother,” I tell him. “No matter what. We were sent into exile as children, to a country that swallowed us whole, and it took a viral post to make it spit us out again. If we can survive that, we can survive anything.”

  He pushes me away. “You should be king, Colin. Should have taken them up on their offer because once we’re fully in the light, it will show every dirty secret and scandal we attempted to hide.”

  I watch as he stumbles down the hall, disappearing around a corner.

  Beaumont appears silently, like always. “I’ll watch his room tonight.”

  “Is everyone home?”

  He nods, then turns his pale blue eyes on me. “She wasn’t always like you remember, or the woman behind all the royal scandals Davies likes to fill your head with. When we were young…she was innocent, full of compassion and hope. We thought we would change the world.”

  Instead the lot of them ruined the lives of everyone they touched. Even now I’m paying for their sins. Even now I can’t sleep with my wife and my brother thinks he’s worthless.

  All because two idiots wanted their way.

  “The world didn’t change. It keeps on spinning no matter how hard we wish it to stop. Royalty marries nobility to continue the line, and will continue to do so, until the very end,” I say bitterly.

  He smiles sadly. “Yet the Crown Prince of the Isle of Man married a commoner.”

  My title means exactly shit to Della. My honesty is what mattered and out of all the things I could have bought her, that one is priceless. “The commoner left the crown prince because she couldn’t take the lies that is in the DNA of every Sinclair. We are born to ruin,” I sneer.

  “You could go to her. Apologize.”

  “Don’t you think I’ve done that already?” I snap, uncaring that Beaumont is overstepping.

  “Perhaps she simply needs more time.”

  “I don’t need advice from you.”

  “But you do need guidance,” he replies, and suddenly black rage boils up inside me.

  I’m done.

  I’m fucking done with being the one to pick up all the pieces. The one who gave up nearly his entire twenties to be a dad to two kids who aren’t his, a dad to twin preteen girls who died of embarrassment when I talked with them about their periods and later about sex. A dad to a brother, only two years my junior, yet emotionally stunted.

  I am bloody fucking tired of being Atlas in this family.

  I pivot, striding to my room like the paparazzi is on my heels. “Think I’ll have a drink. And I don’t need guidance on how to get fucked up. It comes naturally.”

  —

  I don’t pour myself a drink right away. For some reason known only to God, I sit and stew in my own anger for a good fifteen minutes before I bother to get up.

  Grabbing the nearest bottle, I open it.

  “Daddy?”

  I whirl around to find Pierce standing behind me, his hair sticking straight up in the front. I set the bottle down and bend my knees slightly.

  “What’s wrong, big boy?”

  He throws himself into my open arms. “I had a bad dream. You and Della climbed up a tower and then guitars set the whole thing on fire.”

  I wrap my arms around his little body. While he’s a strapping ten-year-old boy, he’s the sensitive one. He’s always been the one to know when I’ve had a rough day, the one to hold my hand far longer than his very independent b
rother ever did, and the one who has bad dreams after watching a Halloween episode of Scooby-Doo.

  “It was just a dream. We’re okay.” I pat his back as his entire body trembles. “Want to sit with me for a bit?”

  He nods as hot tears fall on my neck. “Can I sleep with you and Momma?”

  Shit. Of course, he wants Della, too. “Momma went ho— to Tressie’s. She, uh, had a bad dream, too.”

  “Me, too,” Aiden calls out from the doorway.

  I lift Pierce in my arms and beckon his brother over. “We’ll all sleep in my bed, just like when you were little.”

  “Except this time, we won’t piss the bed,” Aiden says as he climbs up the low stool I keep nearby for occasions just like this. “Promise.”

  I chuckle. “Thank you for that.”

  As soon as my knees hit the side of the bed, Pierce jumps off me like the little monkey he is. “I’m sleeping beside Daddy.”

  Aiden’s eyes narrow. “No—I’m sleeping beside him.”

  “You both are. I’m sleeping in the middle.” I pull the covers back and tuck myself in, then wait for the boys to settle in on either side of me. “Hop to it. I’m beat.”

  “Thank you, Daddy. I was so scared,” Pierce whispers.

  “Me, too,” Aiden agrees, and then his small hand captures mine, squeezing and letting go quickly.

  They both stick one foot out, touching their toes to my legs, just like they did when they were much littler and wanted the assurance that I was really there…and wouldn’t sneak out to watch television without them.

  I don’t bother to hide my smile.

  Something sweet comes over me as the minutes pass, chasing away all the fury and self-righteous anger that was threatening to consume me. Threatening to turn me into something I’m not.

  I lay there, staring up at the celling, listening to their breaths even out.

  What if they had heard my thoughts? Would they feel this secure? Would my room be a safe harbor or something they fear because they would think themselves a burden?

  To think what my careless thoughts, spoken aloud, would have done to the two precious boys who depend on me.

  Not boys.

  My sons.

  “I love you,” I whisper and kiss the tops of their heads in turn.

  Then I close my eyes and, for the first time in years, I pray for guidance that not even Beaumont can provide.

  Chapter 24

  Della

  The next morning I stumble down the stairs, my eyes scratchy and dry from all the crying I did last night.

  I was such a coward to leave.

  Even more of a coward to leave after I listened to the conversations between Colin and Theo, then between Colin and Beaumont. I heard the pain in his voice, the way he tried to help Theo, and then fell into a state of emotion, so un-Colin-like that I almost shoved open the panel behind him and tackled Colin to the ground so I could smother him with kisses.

  Even if he broke my heart, my dreams for the future.

  “Why are you here?” Tressie asks, pouring herself a cup of coffee.

  “Because I missed you?” I smile, lips pulled back to reveal teeth that need to be brushed.

  “You can lie to yourself all you want, chickadee, but don’t lie to me.”

  I cave, faster than the time she caught me fully dressed at midnight and fully intending on sneaking out to go to a dance club with Lola…and admitted as much to her. I was so mad at her, but now all I want her to do is tell me everything is okay.

  And not hand Colin his royal ass.

  That’s my job.

  “I might have left Colin after I found out his boys weren’t actually his. They are his little brothers.” I wait for her to rail against him, call him every name in the book, and tell me that he wasn’t worth my time.

  But she does none of that.

  Tressie keeps sipping her coffee and looking at me. Finally, she sets her mug down. “Did you tell him about your inability to have children?”

  Face flaming, I nod.

  “And what did he say?”

  “That it didn’t matter.”

  “And how long did you keep that from him?”

  “Ten years,” I mumble, then hold up my hands. “But that’s different.”

  She smiles a little. “Why is it different?”

  “Because if I had known that Aiden and Pierce weren’t his, then I wouldn’t have agreed to stay married to him or…other things.” Geez. Now that I hear myself, I sound lame.

  “So you’re punishing him for something he took responsibility for.”

  “He should have told me. The night I confessed my secret, he should have told me everything,” I cry.

  Her smile gives way to a frown. “Della, I want you to think about what you just said.”

  “Oh, I have been thinking. I spent the entire night crying my eyes out over him.”

  “That’s not what I meant.” Tressie crosses the room. “Listen, honey, I want you to put yourself in his shoes. The woman he loves, the woman he wants to spend the rest of his life with and help him raise his boys, has just admitted she can’t have the one thing she wants more than almost anything. He can’t fix that in any way, shape, or form. There is literally nothing he can do except either change his mind on her and turn his back on a deep and abiding friendship that was ten years in the making…or he loves her, more than he loves himself, and says that it doesn’t matter.”

  Helpless sorrow and confusion hit me. “When you put it that way…”

  “I know you thought that everything would be perfect with him. That he already had the one thing you can’t give him, but life doesn’t work out that way. It’s not a fairy tale; it’s real life.”

  “You’re right about that,” I mumble.

  “And it’s a hell of a lot better.”

  I give her an are you crazy look.

  “Your story with Colin hasn’t finished being written and it won’t be until the two of you take hold of that pen again. Meanwhile, fairy tales are set in stone. Just ask the Brothers Grimm.”

  —

  Two days later, while the boys are at school, I stroll to the ornamental pond that is filled with fish. They aren’t the kind you can eat, but they are the kind you can catch and release.

  Colin hasn’t tried to talk to me, hasn’t texted or sent over a message via Wallace or Beaumont. Security still guards the house from prying eyes and the boys come over every afternoon to hang out with Tressie and me…and eat cookies before homework.

  They haven’t said much about my absence and seeing them makes my heart break a little. I don’t want to hurt them. I don’t want to hurt Colin, but I am so conflicted over what to do that I’m frozen. Unable to make a decision.

  It’s not fair to treat him or them this way. They deserve better.

  A fish jumps out of the water and falls back into the pond, splashing a wooden fishing rod that’s propped up on the side.

  “Watch me, Della. Watch me,” Aiden says as he skillfully throws in his line.

  Meanwhile, I’m busy helping Pierce hook a worm. “I can’t do it. It’s mean.”

  “Oh, this worm loves it,” I assure him. “He wants to be eaten.”

  Aiden pauses, turning his baby blues on me while his little brother does the same. “Why?”

  “Because he’s on his last leg and he wants to go down in a blaze of glory…and give the fish that eats him a stomachache. There’s a war going on between fish and worms, you know.”

  “Over what?”

  “Flowers.”

  Pierce’s nose scrunches. “That’s silly.”

  I shrug. “That’s war between worms and fish.”

  “Daddy says that if you’re mad, you should always talk it out. Unless you give someone a Dutch oven, then that means the gloves are off.”

  “What’s a Dutch oven?” I ask, knowing I’m going to regret the answer.

  Aiden snickers. “It’s when you fart under the covers and won’t let the other person
come up for air. Uncle Theo tried to do that to Daddy once, but he kicked him in the nuts.”

  Even I can’t resist laughing at that image. “Okay, back to fishing.”

  “Mind some company?” Charlotte asks, pulling me out of the sweet memory.

  “Nope, it’s just me and the fish.”

  “Has a peace treaty been brokered yet, or are the worms standing firm on the lily pads?” she asks.

  “No treaty. Neither side is talking.”

  Charlotte steps in front of me, wearing a pale blue, long-sleeved shirtdress and cream-colored leggings with tall, brown boots. Her hands are clasped behind her back. “I can’t imagine that the life span of a fish and a worm is that long. Seems like it would be a waste of time to spend all their energy on fighting.”

  “Some things are worth fighting for.”

  “And some things aren’t worth arguing over.”

  I glance at her from the corner of my eye. “You’ve heard.”

  “The entire house heard.”

  “Only because y’all are the nosiest people on the planet.”

  Looking over her shoulder, she smiles. “Guilty as charged, but you were the one who encouraged me.”

  “Because you said it was unladylike! It’s a southern belle pastime, Charlotte. It’s not natural to want to walk away from juicy tidbits of information.”

  She turns around, taking my cold hands in hers. “Della, it’s been ages since you and Colin have spoken, and he’s bloody miserable.”

  Only Charlotte can make three days sound like an eternity. “I don’t feel like talking to him.”

  “He’s miserable without you.”

  That makes me perk up, then perk down as guilt hits me. Who gets happy over hearing that the one they love is suffering? “I’m sorry.”

  “Are you really that prideful?” she asks.

  Yes. “No.”

  “Then go to him,” Charlotte urges. “Say you’ve had all the time you need and that you love him.”

  “If that’s all it took, then I wouldn’t be out here with the fish.”

  Charlotte smiles slyly. “Coward.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard what I said. You’re a coward, Della Sinclair, and now that I think about it”—she taps her chin—“it’s only right you stay away. Our family has a ton of those. No need to add in another one.”