Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
I’m working in the studio with Ethan and James.
Well, I’m working with Ethan while James waits for us to finish for the day.
We’re all perched on stools around the broad worktable by the tall Georgian windows of the mews house, filling the room with late-afternoon sunlight.
Ethan and I consider several groupings of fabric swatches and paint chips while James observes our arranging and rearranging, having arrived early for our post-work drinks down the lane.
“This one.” I tap the linen fabric swatches to the right of me, a selection of soft clay pink and two shades of cream. “It’s the airiest. Jenna will like this. Bruce would like this one.” I tap the forest-green bundle with another swatch of blue and white stripes.
“Hmm,” says Ethan for the third time, scrolling through his mood board of furniture and photos of the room in question from our visit on his laptop. We’ve been at this for hours, trying to make decisions on a client’s exacting brief for their country home.
James looks from Ethan to me and back again. “You’re overthinking this. Pick all of them.”
“We can’t pick all of them,” Ethan and I say in unison.
“Not for the same room,” I add.
“Well, then you need an ale to decide,” James points out. “Or flip a coin if you won’t listen to me. Besides, we need to talk about Theo’s future plans.”
I groan. “Here we go.”
Ethan leans his hands against the table as he stands, considering James. “What plans?”
“Yeah, what plans?” I dare ask, not sure I want to know what else James has lined up for me and how that may conflict with what plans I have lined up for me.
“About your reputation. And its redemption.” James gives me a significant look. He folds his arms across his chest. “We may need to rethink strategy.”
“I’ll need a drink for this conversation,” I complain. “Anything. Water, ale, tea. Something.”
“Hold that thought.” James waves us out the door.
Before long, we’ve reconvened in the private room at the back of the pub Ethan booked for us.
Miles is outside in the main pub, seated near the private room entry.
We’re regulars there and usually don’t attract attention, but James as a Windsor tips the balance.
Alongside, of course, my recently raised media profile.
With pints in hand, we sit at the round table at the back of the moody wood-paneled room, a window casting thin light across us and the old plank floor.
“Alright,” James begins seriously. “I don’t think the operation is yielding the results we are hoping for.”
I give him a suspicious look. This doesn’t bode well for me. “Oh?”
“You mean this debacle with Theo’s fake men?” Ethan asks.
“They’re not my men—”
“Yes,” James agrees. “Those ones. The men are perfectly real. Again. For the record.”
I frown. “Now what? Don’t tell me you have another set of dates with strangers lined up for me. I did my part. Problem solved.”
James raises a hand to stop me. There’s a certain weight in his movement.
“You put in some effort,” he acknowledges, “but I’d peg it as a six out of ten at best, and I’m being generous since I’m your friend.
And I checked the headlines before I came over.
You’re not the lead story, but still up there.
Your ex is still making waves, along with the scandal about a certain yacht—”
“Now, James—” I start.
“You did go out on dates last week, it’s true, but it wasn’t convincing. You need to be one hundred percent convincing if this has any hope of working.”
“And what is this, exactly?”
“Helping you find a future husband to reform your name. Obviously.” James rolls his eyes. “Haven’t you been paying attention? I told you already. We’ve been over this.”
I grimace. “I was hoping you were mistaken.”
“I don’t make mistakes.” James stares me down. He’s giving me not a hint of yield.
Before I can help it, I’ve rolled my eyes, and James looks momentarily forlorn.
Ethan hides a smile behind his hand, then drinks. He’s witnessed this sort of thing before. “Of course you don’t make mistakes, James.”
“Thank you, Ethan. At least someone appreciates my effort. Just look at what I have to work with here.” James shakes his head, as if I’m his particular burden to bear.
Our meals arrive, and I dig into my fish and chips. I gesture at James with a chip. “You’ve got plenty to work with here, by the way. I’m amazing.”
Ethan grins. He pats my arm reassuringly. “So, your plan?” he prompts James.
“Don’t encourage the man.” I frown. The last thing James needs is more encouragement for his schemes. After all, I can come up with my own schemes well enough. Or, evidently, the schemes find me, one way or another.
James leans in, lowering his voice, even though we have the room to ourselves. “I’m thinking the Windsors officially invite Theo as their guest to a public-facing or private-ish event where you can be seen. It puts you on the same level as, say, Prince Auggie.”
“James, Auggie’s practically married to Thomas Golden. I don’t see how that helps me.” I shake my head and start in on my fish.
“Respectability by association, a time-honored tradition,” James says, unbothered. “In fact, my birthday is coming up. I could throw a party, have select media coverage where the palace is in charge…”
I sigh. “I appreciate the effort. But seeing I’ve made a complete mess for the Greek royals as well as myself, I don’t see how potentially expanding my ring of chaos to the British monarchy is going to help anyone.
Besides, I’m sure you’d have to clear such an official event with someone on behalf of the British Royal Family, and I can’t see them agreeing. ”
“What, who would deny me a birthday party?” James looks aghast at the very idea. “Hardly. Even Auggie isn’t that cruel—”
I throw my hands up. “I don’t think you’d be denied a birthday party… but having it as an official royal event is a hard sell unless you’re the King—”
“Furthermore,” James presses on, ignoring me, “instead of going on more dates with an assortment of men, I think you need to pick the most respectable one—or have one chosen for you—and then you keep going on dates with him as a steady fake boyfriend—”
“Now, wait—”
“And what better place than to go together with your new squeeze to my birthday party, where we can completely control the narrative?” James grins at me, incredibly pleased with himself. “It’s a brilliant plan, even if I do say so myself. I ran it past John, and he agrees.”
John is James’ equally havoc-wreaking younger brother, and the pair of them together is more than enough for any one man to deal with. Or any monarchy, for that matter.
“I thought this plan wasn’t going anywhere beyond the three of us and Frankie.” I stare him down, frowning. “That’s not what we agreed.”
“John doesn’t count,” James says breezily, “as he’s another royal. He’s exempt.”
“Fuck me.” I bury my face in my hands. “This is a terrible idea. And no, the more people that know—including royals—the greater the odds of this whole fake debacle getting out. Which definitely won’t help.”
James peers at me. “The only one complaining right now is you.”
I open my mouth and look at Ethan for help, but he obviously thinks this is hilarious. He looks invested.
“I’m sorry, you’re right,” Ethan tells me quickly. “More people knowing does open up more risk, it’s true. But as a royal, John understands the need for discretion.”
“John was photographed in his underpants last year, standing on a table at college,” I point out. “And it made national headlines when he mooned everyone.”
“That was last year.” James sighs. “And now it’s this year. He’s reformed. You, out of everyone, should appreciate this, Theo.”
“An important difference is John is what, nineteen? Twenty? And I’m practically ten years older. Don’t get me wrong. I appreciate that you’re trying to help me out, James. I just don’t know if this is the right way.”
“He’s twenty-one. And I’m always trying to help you out.
Remember, I’m the one who introduced you to Stefanos—even if you did jump the queue, as it were, to meet him first. And now I’m providing distance from him and the yacht incident after you went off script again.
” James shakes his head. “The Aidan situation was one thing. Property damage is quite another. Remember: the Danes need you.”
“Mm. That’s me told.” I sigh and finish off my chips.
One thing about James is that when he gets an idea, it’s next to impossible to stop that train in its tracks.
Which means again I’m going to need to come up with my own solution first if I’m going to avoid being shown off like a debutant at a ball for James’ birthday.
“Right.” James nods as if the matter’s settled. He sits back in his chair after he pushes his empty plate aside and pulls out his phone. “Which brings us to our next point.”
“Next point?” I ask warily, reaching out for James’ plate now that I’ve finished mine and Ethan has too. The ceramic clinks. I make a neat stack with our cutlery on top and put it aside. “What next point?”
“The esteemed Duke of Wiltshire.” James taps his phone and shows me a photo of a blond man with admittedly a great smile, standing by a stone wall covered in red climbing roses. “Edward. Eddie. He’s perfect, actually.”
The first problem is that he’s not Stefanos. As it turns out, it’s also the second problem.
I study the photo. On the surface, he’s not a bad-looking man. But he’s got to be in his forties at least. “A little old for me. What’s wrong with him?”
“Theodor, you’re being difficult. Don’t be ageist,” James complains.
“He’s my second cousin. And there’s nothing wrong with him, for the record.
He’s single. Possibly he’s a little eccentric, but that’s quite minor in the bigger picture.
He’s a very kind person, which is what counts. Stand-up character.”
“Is he a ferret fancier?” I ask, handing his phone back. My mouth twitches. “If so, I’m out. I can’t abide ferrets.”
James frowns at me. “What? No, of course not. He’s some kind of chess champion, and I think he collects stamps too. Or coins. Or plates. I can’t remember.”
“So—he’s boring.”
“He’s not boring. He’s safe. Stable. Eligible. And he’d love to meet you.” James gives me a meaningful look. “Edward understands the importance of comportment and appearances.”
“That’s rich, coming from you.” I roll my eyes. “Maybe you should have dated him. Though I guess you have Frankie. Speaking of which, why isn’t he here to rein you in?”
“Eddie’s my cousin, remember. We generally try not to date our first cousins these days.” James’ expression shifts. He looks down at his lap, retrieves the navy blue cloth napkin that’s still there, and puts it on the table in a crumple. “About Frankie.”
Exchanging concerned glances with Ethan, I shift in my chair. “Is he okay?”
“Yes, fine.” James glances at us. “He’s taking some time for himself.”
“Oh?” I ask, startled. “What do you mean?”
Ethan nudges my foot hard under the table.
“We’re taking a break,” James explains glumly. “For a little while.”
“Did something happen?” I try my luck. “I mean, I get it if you don’t want to talk about it, but—”
“No. Nothing happened, exactly.” James glances at his watch, slightly flustered. “Right, must dash. Don’t forget my birthday later this month. I’ll send you invites once everything is finalized. And stay out of trouble in the meantime. Both of you.”
Ethan smiles warmly at James. “Of course. And I’ll keep an eye on Theo. We’ve got a lot work to do anyway. We’ll be busy till then.”
I give James a bemused glance and blow him an irreverent kiss.
James rises and heads off.
“Another pint?” Ethan asks, and I nod. At least he’s not treating me like one of our projects needing a makeover, unlike James. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
Which leaves me alone to consider I’ve got about three weeks to escape James’ latest plan to reform my profile—and come up with my own. And to get Stefanos out of my head.