Chapter 18
THE QUEEN’S PAJAMAS
ELOISE
London Daily Times
As Royals arrived for a formal Christmas dinner at Sandringham's main house, we made note of the arrivals—all in white tie. This is the family tradition for Christmas Eve. Leah Roughy and Lourdes Lennon arrived for a childfree night. Both women looked like a million bucks in what Leah’s publicist assured us is “absolutely Dior couture” and we would expect nothing less.
Notably, The Prince of Wales remains absent. Kensington Palace stated earlier today:
“His Royal Highness remains in Wales for now.
He stayed past the end of his shift at RAF Valley to ensure the airstrip was properly shut down.
A terrible storm has hit Wales, and he may be needed on hand.
Her Majesty understands and is more supportive than anyone of the Prince's dedication to his job.”
Whether we buy that excuse or not, we must accept it.
After catching Prince Awkward holding my panties—even in the low light of my now-sinking bedroom—I was less enthusiastic about joining him for dinner or whatever we were doing.
After fighting him to carry my own luggage, I gave up.
He took my overnight bag and all my groceries.
I understood his odd chivalry but not his desire to go through my drawers.
“I am sorry about being nosey,” he said as we walked into the warm house.
I immediately kicked off my wet boots, my teeth chattering.
“Let's just... not focus on that,” I said.
“Okay. Well, why don't you take what you can upstairs? I will put the food away. Draw yourself a bath and warm up?”
“I don't want to be a bother, Your—”
“Duncan, Miss Mills.”
“Well, you cannot call me Miss Mills then.”
“I will call you what I choose but I am basically ordering you to call me Duncan. I know you're a good girl, so you'll do as I say. Or, at least I shall tell myself that.”
Was that an innuendo?
“Okay, Duncan,” I tried to be cheerful. “I will go take a bath and be back down.”
“If you need to dry your clothes, laundry is in the utility room right over there,” Duncan pointed.
“Yeah, I will. Everything is soaked, or at least freezing. I can't even tell anymore.”
“I will... be glad to assist, but I promise not to touch any more of your delicates.” Duncan held his hands up as if I wouldn't implicate him.
“Great.”
“If you want to toss those in there,” Duncan said. “I could give you something to wear in the meantime. Even better, just stay in Mum and Dad's room and—”
“Oh God, I couldn't stay in there!”
“No, really, I insist. You would not be the first guest to do so.”
“No, I'll take a very small, unremarkable guest room and stay out of your hair. I really, really don’t want to cause trouble or get you in hot water.”
He chuckled and scratched his head. “Sorry. We only have remarkable guest rooms. I'll bring you a robe and something else to change into—likely will not fit but will do for now. I do have a frozen pizza for dinner. Pepperoni? Does that suit?”
“Great, thanks. That will be great as long as it is warm.”
“I promise you it is going to be piping hot.”
“Alright.”
I put my clothes in the dryer and took the bag upstairs to where Duncan assembled a proper guest suite. He held clean clothes and a lovely robe.
“Okay, so robe. And something to wear. It's just an old t-shirt and pair of pajamas I stole from Mum. She will not care. She would be worried about you catching your death of cold like this.” He took the towels laid out on the well-appointed queen-size bed.
“Now, the best tub in the house is in their room.
And I insist you use it—no one will care.
It's down the hall and to the left. First door.
Enjoy. I will make us drinks when you come downstairs because we've earned it.”
“Thanks,” I said.
“Anything I can do, just let me know,” Duncan said.
He smiled broadly but looked a bit nervous. I frightened him over the whole going-through-my-panties thing.
I stripped my soaked clothes and hung them over a chair.
I’d bring them downstairs post-bath. I unfurled the lovely waffle-weave robe.
As I wrapped it around myself, I felt luxurious.
It reminded me of the one my mother always kept in her bathroom or ones we wore at the spa. It was heaven—a much-needed relief.
I padded towards the bathroom and took in the most beautiful view of the sea through the big bay window. I looked around at the massive wood bed, the silk curtains, and the neat desk in the corner. The space was beautiful, but the most remarkable part was that it felt lived in.
I crept into the bathroom where a massive clawfoot tub greeted me.
I turned it on and waited for the water to heat.
To my elation, it did. I found bubble bath nearby and poured it.
Within five minutes, the tub was full and I floated, immersed in the near-scalding bath, the bubbles, and silence.
As sense of peace overcame me, until I heard an exclamation from below.
“Oh, fuck! Ouch!”
I sat up and called, “Your Royal Highness, are you okay?”
He replied upstairs. “Yes, Miss Mills. Fine, thanks. Just fucking burned myself. And it’s Duncan.”
“Sorry, Duncan,” I yelled.
“How’s the bath?”
“Amazing,” I replied. “Thank you.”