His Royal Secret (26 page)

But James did her the courtesy of saying it out loud. “I want to come out. Publicly, unequivocally, nothing less than the truth. And I want to do it now.”

Indigo paled, but she didn’t panic. “You’d give up the throne?”

“Never.” He leaned closer and took her free hand, yearning for her to understand. “I can’t swear to you that I’d be able to become king. But I think there’s a chance—times are changing so fast—and if there’s a chance, I have to take it.” There would be no getting around the Church; that was the one obstacle James could not influence, the one absolute barrier that would stand or fall regardless of anything he said or did. But if he acted decisively and had the right strategy, maybe he could handle the rest. “I wouldn’t abandon you. Not ever. I’d meet with Kimberley tomorrow, tell her what’s happening, and see what she thought about how to proceed. But if you need to think about this a while, that’s all right too. I won’t come out without your consent. I promise.”

Indigo sat very quietly for a few moments, and he let her take it in. James didn’t say that he wouldn’t go ahead if she didn’t want him to; she understood that already.

Her first question was about the issue that threatened her the least. She couldn’t have realized it was the one that hurt James the most. “You said you wanted to talk about you and Ben. Are you coming out so you can be with him openly?”

“No. The exact opposite, I’m afraid.” James tried to speak evenly, as though he’d already accepted all of this as the inevitability it was, as though each word didn’t feel like a blade through his heart. “Think about it. The tabloid press would descend upon Ben like jackals on a wounded animal. He’d be trapped in the same fishbowl as you and me, except he wouldn’t have our protections. Besides, Ben values his freedom. His independence. He has no interest in a committed relationship with anyone. Being defined by a relationship in the public eye, getting hounded by the media . . . that’s the last thing he’d ever want.”

“They might find out about him anyway.”

“They might.” This thought already haunted James. Was it already too late to protect Ben from public wrath and ridicule? He prayed not. “But at least if I end it before I come out, Ben has a chance. I owe him that much.”

Indigo sagged back in her chair. “I can’t blame him for not wanting this. Nobody would ever live this life if they had a choice.”

James felt pretty sure millions of impoverished people in the world would happily trade media overexposure for a fraction of the House of Hanover’s wealth and security. However, Ben was a successful adult with a wonderful flat, a book contract, and his own full, well-rounded life. He would never take this on, and James couldn’t blame him either.

It wasn’t as though you were ever going to get forever
, James reminded himself. Sometimes lately Ben looked at him as though James were a sick dog who’d have to be put down. To his shame, James realized that if he’d believed Ben shared his feelings, he wouldn’t have the strength to even consider coming out, because he knew, absolutely, that coming out meant losing Ben forever. Despite Cassandra’s humiliation and his own cowardice, James would have kept living a lie if the lie kept Ben near.

But he was already losing Ben by degrees. Better to accept the inevitable, to endure the pain, and at least regain his self-respect. In the end, James thought, Ben would respect that choice too. It helped to think of Ben silently cheering him on, even from far away.

“I’m sorry,” Indigo said. Obviously she’d glimpsed how much pain he was in. “Are you sure it’s the right thing?”

“Yes. Absolutely. I don’t know if it’s going to work out the way I hope, but I want to try.”

Squaring her shoulders, Indigo nodded. Just like that, James knew she was with him absolutely—even though he was taking as big a risk with her life as he was with his own. His heart swelled with love and pride. If Indigo could be brave, then he could too.

“I’m tired of the lies too,” she said. “If you need to come out, then do it.”

He’d thought he would feel terrified if this moment ever came. Or maybe triumphant. Instead he only felt a sort of numb determination. “You’re sure? I know it’s a lot to ask.”

Indigo nodded again, now blinking back tears. “Just promise me you’ll fight hard for your crown. Richard’s going to come after you—you know he will—but you have to fight him. You’re a good man, James. You’ll be a good king. I love you.”

“I love you too. And I promise.” He embraced his sister tightly. “I’m going to fight like hell.”

Check & Mate

“Forgive me, sir,” Kimberley said. “You’ve caught me off guard.”

James leaned back in his chair. “Under the circumstances, your surprise is understandable. And, I admit, slightly gratifying. You really didn’t suspect?”

“If I may speak frankly, sir—” At his nod, she continued, “I’d come to the conclusion that you had a significant other besides Lady Cassandra. But I assumed it must be a woman in a situation best kept private.” Already Kimberley Tseng was regaining her aplomb. She readjusted the Hermes scarf at her throat and took her iPad back in hand. “You want to come out publicly.”

“Yes.”

“Immediately.”

“As soon as we can have a strategy in place. But I’d like that to be a matter of days, not months. Besides my own impatience to set the record straight, there’s Cass to consider. People should know the truth about her sooner rather than later.”

Kimberley nodded. She sat across from him in his office—not the small desk in his private suite, but the official space on the ground floor of Clarence House. James liked the room, which smelled comfortingly of leather and had beige silk curtains that tinted the light with antiqued warmth. His chair here was enormous and richly carved; the carpet was a Turkish kilim from the eighteenth century. These details, usually lost on him, stood out now. It helped to be doing this someplace that made him feel strong and secure. Like the king he still hoped to become.

James took up his own tablet and forwarded Kimberley a file. “Take a look at this. I’ve listed the most significant objections we’re likely to face, as well as my thoughts on each.”

She scanned her screen, already catching up with him; he’d definitely hired the right woman. “This is rather comprehensive, sir. How long have you been working on this?”

“Just started last night.” He picked up the bone china cup with his coffee. “Obviously I haven’t slept much.”

Not that he could have slept. Fear and frenzy and even a kind of elation all whirled within his mind, stimulants more powerful than caffeine. And every moment he wasn’t caught up in them, he was left alone with the ache in his heart that kept repeating Ben’s name.

“Sir, if you only made this decision last night, I must ask you if you are entirely certain you want to proceed,” Kimberley said. “With respect to Lady Cassandra’s situation, we could craft a statement that would let her off the hook, so to speak, and yet allow you additional time to think.”

“I’ve taken more than enough time as it is, Kimberley. For ten years now, I’ve lived a lie. It has to end.”

She smiled at him. A simple enough expression, and Kimberley gave him a smile virtually every time they spoke—but this was different somehow. It took James a moment to recognize that this smile stood out because it reflected more than politeness, or a cordial relationship between boss and employee. Kimberley, he realized, was proud of him.

Maybe she’d be the only one. But it felt incredible to tell someone the truth and have her smile.

“Very well, Your Royal Highness.” Immediately Kimberley began working with the list he’d given her, efficient as ever. “Let’s see. It’s Tuesday morning. The soonest I would advise making a public statement is Friday afternoon. Not only would that give us a chance to strategize before speaking to your family, but it also means we’d hit the slower weekend news cycle. People will have a couple of days to mull the news over for themselves, listen to the more considered voices in the media, before they return to their office gossips or walk past the tabloid stands.”

That seemed sensible. James nodded. “I’m glad you understand we’ll have to finalize our strategy before my family comes into it.”

“May I again speak frankly, sir?”

“Of course.”

“Do any of them know?”

“My sister has known virtually as long as I have. None of the others suspect a thing, except perhaps Nicholas. But he’s never spoken a word about it to me, or to anyone else, I’d wager.”

Kimberley’s eyes met James’s evenly. “If you are removed from the succession, and Princess Amelia is—unable to serve, Prince Nicholas would become king after his father.”

“You mean he has a lot to gain?” James laughed. “Nicholas would rather live out his life as an RAF officer than spend one day as king. Don’t misunderstand me; if he has to step in, he will, and he’d do an admirable job. Still, he’d never work against me on this. His father is another story.”

“I see, sir.” Obviously Kimberley was trying to think of a tactful way to say that she knew Richard was an ambitious snake without actually speaking a negative word about a member of the royal family.

Although this was mildly amusing to watch, James stepped in to spare her the uncertainty. “I plan to spend some time this morning creating another file for you. A breakdown of likely reactions within the family, both pro and con, and how we might best work with them.”

“Excellent, Your Royal Highness. I’ll start strategizing on how to handle the media. For the most part, they’ll be falling over themselves not to appear homophobic. Unfortunately, that means some of them will look for other reasons to object.”

“The Church,” James said. There wasn’t enough coffee in the world to erase the exhaustion he felt at the thought. “That’s going to be the biggest objection, and it’s the one I can’t do much about.”

Kimberley wasn’t fazed. “Then we do our best to focus the debate on other issues, Your Royal Highness. On stronger ground for us. At some point I may want to bring in further media consultants, after signing them to strict confidentiality agreements, of course.”

James nodded. “They won’t have to keep a lid on it for long, will they?”

“A day or two at most.” Her fingers quickened on her tablet—but then she paused. “May I ask you a personal question, sir?”

“For the rest of the week, Kimberley, you should consider yourself granted permission to say or ask whatever you feel necessary. I realize we’re going to spend some time on slippery ground.”

“Is there currently a man in your life, sir?” She flushed even speaking the words. He wondered if he did too. “I wondered whether the legalization of gay marriage had influenced your decision.”

“Only in that they can’t accuse me of swaying that vote any longer.” He sighed. “Trust me, Kimberley, I’m nowhere near the altar.”

She was too smart to let it go at that. “But you’re not seeing someone?”

“I’m not coming out with a partner.”

That too was an evasion, and James suspected Kimberley was both bright enough to know it and to press no further.

No matter. He’d be able to tell her honestly that he was single very soon.

They worked together throughout the day, taking no breaks besides a hurried lunch of sandwiches on a tray and swift trips to the loo. Thank God this was a week James had already set aside for administrative work. The few events he had could be canceled without raising undue attention, and he was free to concentrate on preparing for the fight of his life.

“Would you consider a TV interview, sir?” Kimberley said. “I realize it’s an extraordinary step to take, but these days it’s not unheard of, not for major events. This would certainly qualify.”

James thought for a moment, then shook his head. “Not while I’m regent. Members of the royal family can sit down with an interviewer every once in a great while, but the head of state can’t.”

Kimberley brightened. “I hadn’t fully considered this before, but thank goodness you’re doing this during your regency. That’s going to shield you from some possible repercussions. For now, attacking you is attacking the monarchy itself.”

“People do. Still, your point is well-taken.” He was chagrined not to have thought of it himself. With Grandfather now able to speak a few simple words, inching back toward lucidity, the protection of the regency wouldn’t last must longer.

See? You’ve chosen the right moment. The only moment. Don’t turn back.

The only reason he hesitated, the only reason every moment of this felt like torment, was the knowledge of what he had to do that evening.

When Kimberley left for the day, James made his way into his private suite within Clarence House. Usually he undressed on his own, reserving the valet’s services for going out or simply maintaining his wardrobe, but this evening he had Paulson help him. It was one more way of procrastinating. There was a strangely meditative quality to standing still while Paulson slipped off his suit jacket, loosened his tie, and unlaced his shoes. He need do nothing at all; he could just remain in place and let everything happen.

In the end, though, he was alone, and the worst could be put off no longer.

James dialed, perversely hoping he would have missed Ben at the end of his workday, that this could be put off even longer—but after two rings came the usual terse “Dahan.”

“Ben. Hello.”

“Oh, hi. I didn’t expect to hear from you.”

“A few things have changed.” James hung his head, braced the receiver against his temple. “Do you have some privacy?”

“Yes, for once. Everybody else has headed out for the day, at least in editorial.” Ben had sounded almost diffident when he first spoke, but by now he seemed to have realized this was no ordinary call. “What’s up?”

“I’ve made a very important decision, and it, ah, it affects us.” Deep breath and get it out: “I’m not issuing another false public statement about the situation with Cass. This has gone on long enough. I’m going to come out.”

Ben actually gasped. At any other time, it would’ve been gratifying to have surprised him so much. “Now?”

“This weekend. Friday. Obviously I’ve got some preparation to do.”

Horribly, Ben didn’t understand right away. James had so prayed that he would, but instead Ben said, “So we won’t see each other for—a while, I guess.”

It was like telling someone to pull out an arrow deep in your flesh, or to extract the bullet lodged next to your heart. You knew it had to be gotten over with right away, even if it killed you, because the pain was worse than anything else. All you could do was end it. “If we ever see each other again, after my statement—the press would be all over you. The tabloid press, I mean. Not your sort.” Of course Ben understood that. James was dithering, wasting time, making it worse. He forced himself to plunge ahead. “Obviously it would be better for you if we were simply to make a clean break.”

“Oh,” Ben said. He didn’t seem to know what else to say. Was he regretful? Relieved? Probably a little of both.

“This isn’t easy for me.” James could be that honest, at least. Surely Ben already knew this much. “But coming out changes the rules of our game.”

“Right. It would. I’m sorry—I’m not making much sense. You caught me off guard.”

“It’s all right,” James said. At least Ben wasn’t acting blasé about it, the way Niall had. That was some small comfort. “You understand why I’m doing this, don’t you?”

“Of course. It makes sense. You’ll be in the middle of a media firestorm.” Ben paused. “You’re really ready to take that on?”

“No. Yet if I postpone it any longer, the delay will kill me. I cannot keep lying like this, Ben. It’s like a poison that creeps into everything. Time for the antidote. Time for the truth.”

Softly Ben said, “I called you a coward once. I was a fool.”

James’s heart filled full to bursting. He bit the inside of his cheek, holding it back because he had to. “That means a lot to me. Thank you.”

“And so I guess—I guess this is it.” Ben sounded as dazed as James felt. “It’s just very sudden.”

“I know.” James thought this must be how people felt after a car crash—stunned, aching, unable to put themselves back in the better world they’d inhabited only moments before. “We’ve had a wonderful time, haven’t we?”

“Yeah. We have.”

There it was: the smallest catch in Ben’s voice, the proof James longed for that this wasn’t easy for him. No, he didn’t feel what James felt, as if part of his very self had been wrenched away—but he felt
something
, and that alone was enough to make James say the part he’d been most unsure of. “Listen. If you’d like, would you want to come by tomorrow night? It’s so awkward, saying good-bye over the phone.” He had to swallow hard. “I’d like to see you just once more.”

For a moment Ben didn’t reply, and James wondered if he’d got it all wrong. Maybe Ben only wanted the hell out of this mess as soon as possible. Who could blame him?

Then Ben said, “Yes. We should. I mean, I’ll come over tomorrow evening. Usual time?”

“Of course.”

Kimberley would have contacted her outside media consultants by tomorrow afternoon, and maybe she had thought they’d pull an all-nighter to prepare. No doubt that was the wisest plan. But James didn’t give a damn.

He would only have one more night with Ben. Nothing in the world could make him give that up.

After they rang off, awkward and unsure, James finally put his head down and wept—long, broken, wrenching sobs, the way he hadn’t cried since his parents’ death. Best to get it out now. He couldn’t afford to break down tomorrow, not during his work with Kimberley, and hopefully not while he and Ben said good-bye. So he told himself he had a good reason to cry and cry until he was wrung out, used up, completely empty of everything but the hollows left behind.

•   •   •

Well, fuck.

Ben sat in his chair for a few long minutes, still holding the phone receiver. When he realized he was doing that, he hung up, but he remained in place, not moving, hardly even thinking.

The door to the newsroom opened then; Ben turned to see Roberto striding in, still wearing his blazer and necktie from the press conference he’d attended that afternoon. He felt himself smiling at Roberto as though his face were a mask he wore that moved of its own accord. “What are you doing back? Was the conference so vital you need to file the story right away?”

“Hell, no. I could do that from my phone.” Roberto reached under his desk for a duffel bag. “It was the same old boring crap as ever. So now I feel the need to run. You not done yet?”

“I’m done.” This wasn’t exactly true, but he could finish this story as easily in the morning. Right now he thought he ought to move. “Want some company?”