CHAPTER EIGHT – FINN
The last time I saw my mother this distraught was when Francesca died.
Back then, I hadn’t fully understood it. I was only twelve, after all, and I’d never had to face any kind of loss myself. All I knew was that her friend had died, but my father’s explanation had changed my perception of their relationship.
He’d said there were three people in this world my mother would die for: him, me, and Francesca Sinclair. If he was her romantic soulmate, then Francesca was her platonic one. They’d been together their entire lives and losing her was to lose a piece of herself.
I remember how determined she’d been to find Francesca’s daughter, Harriet. How, despite there being a body presented to the Sinclairs as her and them burying her, they never believed it was actually Harriet. Everything happened so quickly, though, and even my mother couldn’t intervene at the time.
After Francesca died, she did everything she could to spark the investigation into Harriet’s disappearance. All I know is that nothing came of it.
The little girl who’d once helped me hide had, as my mother so perfectly put it not long ago, disappeared off the face of the Earth.
Still, she hoped. I knew she did. Everyone knew she had a piece of her heart left in that fight. Everyone knew that she refused to give up hope that one day, she’d come back.
And now, she had.
Inexplicably. Against all the odds.
Harriet Sinclair was here.
In our palace.
By chance.
Whatever led our paths to cross that day in the park must be a power far greater than anything I’ve ever encountered before. Until that day, I’d have told you it was an absolute impossibility for such a thing to come to pass.
“I’m going to kill him,” Mum says, finally looking up from between her fingers. “For two years that girl has been back in this city, and he didn’t say a word. He forced her to use another name and hid her away like a dirty little secret!”
“You don’t—”
“I do know.” She slaps her hands against the table and stares at me with her cheeks flushed. “I never liked him when Franny married him, and I still don’t like him now. I only ever tolerated him for her.”
“Why would he do that, though? She’s his daughter, and she was missing for twenty years. Why would he force her to use another name?”
“His wife.” She clenches her fist. “And that adopted daughter of theirs, Jasmine. She’s supposed to be announced as your fiancée at your birthday banquet, although I’ve made no arrangements for such a thing.
With Harriet’s return, we would be well within our rights to request that the original terms of our agreement be met. ”
“Meaning I’d marry Harriet instead,” I say slowly.
Fuck.
Well.
I can’t say I wouldn’t prefer that. There isn’t a single bone in my body that wants to marry Jasmine. I’ve always seen it as little more than my duty, something that I had to do. The Sinclairs are rich, after all, and their wealth would add a lot to the Royal House.
That’s another reason my mother has always carefully toed the line with them, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with anything.
Money talks, after all.
“Meaning you’d marry Harriet instead,” she echoes, pressing her hand to her mouth. “So, they kept her a secret. He’s certainly weaponising her trust fund. The way she looked at me when I suggested it told me everything.”
“How do you know for sure?”
“Because I’m the one who set up the trust fund.
” Her lips twitch. “I helped, at the very least. I’d be a trustee if I weren’t queen—it was deemed inappropriate, so only William was appointed, much to my chagrin.
I tried to get a second trustee involved, but Rowan informed me that ‘I don’t like him’ wasn’t an acceptable reason, and I didn’t want to push it when Franny was so unwell.
At the time, there was no reason to believe her father wouldn’t give her full access if she were to ever return.
That’s how I know that the only condition is that Harriet must be twenty-one to access the money. ”
“So, he’s breaking the law by withholding it and making her sign an agreement for access.”
“He certainly is. As Rowan said, the agreement itself may be void.” She sighs, clasping her hands together on the table.
“Go and speak to her, Finn. Assure her we’ll do whatever we can for her, including hiring her legal representation to get what’s rightfully hers, if she so wishes.
And find out everything you can—I need to know what happened to her. ”
“Are you sure she’ll speak to me?”
“She has to speak to someone, and she’s spent the most time with you so far.
Now that we know, we can’t simply ignore her presence.
” Mum meets my gaze. “You said that you thought she was lying about knowing who you are when you met for the second time. We can deduce that’s probably the truth, but she hardly schemed her way in here.
I requested her presence, don’t forget.”
“Maybe she didn’t want to be here and that’s why she lied about recognising me?” I suggest, tapping my fingers against the table. “It’s not unreasonable. If she’s being threatened with money—”
“A lot of money,” Mum says. “Enough to ensure that three generations of her children would never have to worry about finances even with a lavish lifestyle, let’s put it that way.”
“That’s even more of a reason for her to lie to me. She may have only played along today because of who you are.”
“No. She wanted me to know.” She presses her lips together and gets up.
The chair squeaks against the hardwood floor, and she walks to the window where she clasps her hands behind her back and gazes outside at the gardens.
“I could see it in her eyes. She broke the moment I mentioned Franny. It was like… I don’t know.
It was as if she’d been waiting for it, Finn. Hoping for it, almost.”
I sigh and run my fingers through my hair, then sit back in my chair. “What do you want me to do?”
“Find out everything you can, as I said. She’s most likely to talk to you. Find out the truth about how she got here and what she wants.”
“What she wants?”
“Yes. Does she want to claim the original agreement? Does she wish to marry you?”
“That’s a heavy question for a first date,” I say dryly, making her laugh despite her heavy emotions. “What if she says no? That she’s just happy to live her life, take her trust fund, and disappear? Then what?”
“Then I’ll assist her in any way possible. The entire Royal Household will,” Mum answers without missing a beat. “And your marriage to the Sinclairs will be cancelled. After they’ve lied so thoroughly, I refuse to grant Royal Assent for your marriage to Jasmine Sinclair.”
I sit up straight. “And what excuse will you give? If Harriet doesn’t want them to know she’s been found out, it could harm her more than anything if they do.”
“I suppose. Fine. In that event, I’ll arrange a fake partner for you—you’ll have a nine-month courtship before you mutually break it off.
Everyone will believe it’s a love match.
That’s a condition both Franny and I agreed on.
If either of you met someone you truly wished to spend your life with, we would happily give our blessing.
Lying about you meeting someone isn’t a big deal.
It wouldn’t be the first time our family has done such a thing, and whoever she is will be well compensated.
Whatever happens, we’ll figure something out to protect Harriet. ”
“All right.” I rub the back of my neck and stretch it side to side. “There’s no guarantee she’ll tell me anything. She was tight-lipped in here.”
“She’ll tell you enough. At least find out what she plans for the future.”
“All right, fine, fine.” With a sigh, I stand up and wipe my hands on my trousers. “I’ll see what I can get out of her, but don’t get your hopes up.”
“Every hope I’ve ever possessed has been fulfilled today,” Mum says softly, still gazing out of the window. “She’s alive. She’s healthy. Now, my only wish is for her to be happy. Your job is to find out how we make that happen.”
Something tells me that’s easier said than done.
There’s a twenty-year hole in Harriet’s life. Twenty years we know nothing of. Not of her health, her whereabouts, her wellbeing. We know nothing of what she might have went through during that time.
Where was she, really? How did she get there? Who took her there? Who cared for her after? Did she escape whoever took her? How did she get back here? Did someone help her, and if they did, then who?
It truly is nothing short of a miracle that she’s returned home.
How do you make a stranger happy?
All I can do is listen to her. Ask her what she needs.
Ask her how we can help, what she’d like to do from here, where she’d like to go.
Does she want to stay as Hannah Porter, continue her photography, and build her own studio?
Does she want to reclaim the name given to her at birth and the things that come along with it?
Does she want to leave here, create a new identity, and live her life a million miles away from it all?
None of those choices are wrong. Every one of them is right in their own way.
The problem I have is that I’m not buying what she’s selling. Now, I’m certain that she knew exactly who I was the moment our eyes met. It’s why she went along with everything—me bursting into her room, the vague work offer, the confidentiality agreement, everything.
She knew she was safe with me.
The Crown Prince of this nation poses no threat to her, and she knows it. She’s always known it.
So, why not tell me the truth? Why lie? What was her goal? What is her goal? Was it gaining entry to the palace this whole time? Did she somehow know that my mother would look at her and recognise her? Was it all a desperate act by a desperate person?
That familiarity I felt whenever I looked at her makes sense now. I’ve grown up surrounded by stories and pictures of Francesca Sinclair, and aside from one or two small things, Harriet looks exactly like her. I just couldn’t place her.