The Heir Affair

home that I was still myself no matter what lay ahead.
Nick had caved to only one of his father’s demands, shaving his mustache but leaving his longish hair on the unruly side. But if he was trying to pick a fight with Richard via his grooming choices, he didn’t get one. When we arrived outside the Chinese Dining Room in the east wing of Buckingham Palace—Richard’s favorite place to have a Conclave outside of Clarence House; Freddie once theorized that his father must identify with the dragon painted on the ceiling—Richard ignored Nick, but held up a hand in front of me, like a posh bouncer at a very uptight nightclub.
“Not you,” he said. “Her Majesty has requested your presence in her chambers.”
Nick turned to me with a flummoxed look on his face. I’d only been in Eleanor’s room once before, when she’d dazzled me with tiaras before essentially threatening me into renouncing my American citizenship. The idea of facing her now that she had real cause to loathe me made me queasy, but I wasn’t about to let Richard see me falter, so I put a reassuring hand on Nick’s arm.
“It’s all good,” I said. “I’ve got this.”
“There’s that American can-do spirit,” Lady Elizabeth sang, pushing past us, her pregnant belly having swollen to a truly impressive girth over the last two months. She was technically a duchess now, as Edwin had been given his father’s dukedom, but to me and the press and everyone else she would always be Lady Elizabeth—much like how, to most people, I would always be Bex. We both liked it that way.
“Hang on, is Elizabeth taking Edwin’s place now?” Nick asked his father. “I can’t believe you allowed that.”
Elizabeth chortled. “Pet, it’s easier if I do this bit! Eddy’s no good at linear thinking, we all know that.” She gave me a rushed hug. “Welcome back. I’ve been wanting to ask: Where did you consummate it? Eddybear and I have tried all over St. James’s and there were never any closets that could—”
“We’d better begin,” Richard interrupted. “Nicholas, take a seat. You, wait here for Marj.”
And then he closed the door in my face.
“No problem,” I said to the door, which didn’t seem impressed by my false confidence.
The barren hallway was peaceful, with just the ticking of the hand-carved walnut grandfather clock to keep me company. I would’ve loved to take off and explore on my own en route to Eleanor, but Buckingham Palace had 775 rooms, and I could barely make my way through the ones that were on the public tour, much less find the Queen from a dining room I’d never seen before today. Instead, I wandered to the large window overlooking the private park that stretched out behind the palace. The last time I was out on the lawn, Clive’s threats were closing in around me, and it seemed possible that I’d never return to it. I looked down at the Lyons Emerald, sparkling once more on my left hand. At least we’d gotten this far, even if the route had been ugly.
“Fond memories?”
Marj had appeared behind me, as comforting and grandmotherly as always in her light shawl and the half-moon glasses she wore hooked to a thin gold chain.
“Memories, anyway,” I said. “It’s good to see you, Marj.”
She smiled, but did not offer a hug. “Let me walk you to Her Majesty’s quarters. I’ve got a few items to discuss on the way.”
“Thank you for having Donna send me something to wear,” I said, falling in step with her. “I’m so fried from yesterday that I could not have done it on my own.”
“As we suspected,” she said. “Everything you and Nicholas left in Scotland will be delivered tomorrow, including your art pieces and some very odd lumps of wool.” She frowned. “Are they blankets?”
“Nick claims they’re socks.”
Marj looked astonished. “For whom? A giant?” She shook her head, then made a mark on her clipboard. “You’ve seen your other belongings are at Kensington Palace already. The Queen has earmarked her sister Georgina’s former residence on the grounds there for you and the duke, and we were going to start discussing renovations during the honeymoon, but…as you know, other issues took precedence.”
I stopped in front of another picture window, this one overlooking the less-scenic London morning rush-hour traffic. It was, aptly for my situation, a total clusterfuck.
Marj took my pause for something other than what it was. “Apartment 1A is highly desirable,” she said. “Yes, it needs updating, and hasn’t been lived in since the princess died. But I’m sure twenty-six rooms will be more than enough for your needs.”
“Oh, I’m sure it’s gorgeous!” I said. “It’s extremely generous of Her Majesty, especially after…everything.”
“Indeed,” Marj said tightly.
“Marj,” I said, touching her arm. “I owe you an apology. I cannot imagine what a disaster we left in our wake, and we—I—feel awful about how our behavior has impacted you.”
Marj’s face relaxed. “Thank you, my dear. I appreciate that,” she said. “But I’m the one who convinced you to roll the dice in the first place. I can’t believe how badly I misjudged it.”
“In your defense, it was the middle of the night when we called,” I said.
“Nonetheless, I didn’t think Clive would detonate his family’s entire relationship with the Crown over some silly vendetta,” she said. “Frederick tried to keep me out of the blowback, and I appreciate it, but I’m not sure I deserve it. I should have gotten in front of it instead of crossing my fingers that there would be nothing to get in front of, but…” She shook her head. “It’s done now. How are you?”
The cars outside had barely moved at all.
“My body is here, but my brain is still adjusting,” I said. “Yesterday, we thought the Queen was nearly dead, and today you’re giving me a mansion.”
Marj touched my arm. “My dear, if there is one thing to know about The Firm, it is this: Things move terribly quickly, and also not at all,