Chapter 13
THE DINNER
DUNCAN
London Daily Times
It was only a matter of time before The Prince of Wales ended up back in hot water.
This time, he vented his anger at a photographer.
The Palace claims the photographer is a “known offender”—a bad egg who climbed over the fence near the back of the family's property in Wales to photograph the Prince on a walk around the property.
He then confronted the photographer demanding that he was the “problem” and he was “a wanker” who “harassed Nessa”.
The photo was soon posted on gossip sites.
It was a bad look. We'll see what comes of it.
Just as I was doing all the right things, I tangled with a trespassing photographer.
It was when I was out on a morning jog on a trail at the property’s edge.
He climbed the fence and set up a shot, but I saw red.
This was a guy I could spot from a mile away as the man who tortured Nessa in a past life.
In my mind, it was this sort of constant harassment that led her to say no to marriage again and again.
I wanted to lay hands on the prick, but responded only with righteous indignation.
I was unaware that “wanker” would elicit such a reaction in the press, but for a prince on eggshells, every word was scrutinized.
While he had violated me and my privacy, I was the villain.
As soon as I weaseled my way partially back into my parents’ good graces, I lost it. To Miss Mills, I remained a pariah. Nothing I could do would make up for all I did wrong. So, I agreed to taking a pre-Christmas dinner with everyone in the mess.
“Your Royal Highness,” Miss Mills said. “This will be a good foot forward. We can spin you as a happy, protective sort of person. Your ex made her own statement in your defense.”
She had. I still didn't understand why.
“Can you be honest with me?” I asked.
Scenery passed by as we reached the bridge in the car.
“Sure.” She looked up from her phone.
“Did you pay her off?”
Miss Mills let out a long sigh.
“I do not know the specifics of the first statement she made, sir. However, I can confirm no such thing was even floated this time.”
I nodded. “Please don't pay her. It cheapens the thing.”
“I didn't agree with any plan that included paying her,” Miss Mills said. “However, I know your family wants you to get a second chance. They might be willing to go to extreme measures, sir.”
“Oh, I know. But here's the thing, Nessa never wanted this world, Miss Mills. She wanted to marry a normal person—him. I just want to stay out of her hair, alright?”
“Sure,” Miss Mills agreed. “I understand. That is admirable. And while I might understand what you are up to and how much you care about her—that this is protectiveness—you're under a microscope. So, let's give them Christmas vibes only, okay?”
“Fine,” I grumbled.
“Why do you hate these events so much... sir?” She asked. Her proper way of addressing me showed cracks.
“Uh... well, I know it might surprise you, but I don't enjoy crowds.”
“But you can be so good with them. With the kids... you didn't want to do it, but you did a great job!”
“I love children,” I said. “They aren't fake. They are sweet, perfect souls. I'd do almost anything to make a kid's day, but adults can be trite. I'm an introverted-extrovert, so I fake those interactions as best I can. I am good at pretending, but I need time to charge my batteries.”
“I’ve never heard of that. An introverted-extrovert?” Ella reshuffled the papers in her lap.
“Yes. My mother is the same way. My father has this gift of genuinely thriving in public. He was a sports commentator, you know? God, that's hard to imagine but he was beloved—is beloved—for his genuine way of going. Mum and I aren't like that.”
“Your mother is lovely.”
“She prefers small situations to big crowds. She also has learned to be very good at the job. And being with Dad gives her a boost.”
Miss Mills fell quiet.
I groaned. “Yes, I know. Just find a wife, Duncan. Marry an affable, sweet girl who can carry you. You don't have to say it. You're thinking it.”
“I didn't say that, sir.”
“But you thought it. Be honest, Miss Mills.”
She shrugged. “How—”
“It's all anyone thinks. And it's probably brilliant advice I won't take to heart,” I said. “Because the person I loved so much and stayed with for a decade broke my damn heart. I'm damaged goods.”
As soon as I said it, I regretted it. The last thing I wanted to do was emotionally dump on this adorable young thing I so fancied. Again, the desire for the chase was strong with me.
To my surprise, her face reflected compassion and not judgement. “I get it. My bestie tells me to get out of those feels. But like... it's difficult. And right now, you're in the thick of it. I gotta hope it gets better. Maybe for us both…certainly for you. I am trying my best, sir.”
“I know,” I agreed. “I am not the easiest person right now, am I?”
She shrugged. “That doesn't matter.”
“Why?”
“Because it's my job and I am very good at my job.”
I was still just her job. Bugger! Time to get the show on the bloody road. Smile and make nice, Duncan.