Twenty-Four
My lids split open to dull morning light.
Pain.
Throbbing. Cruel. Unrelenting.
I tucked my head deeper into my pillow with a whimper. The jackhammer of agony crashed into my skull and spun my stomach with bile.
Tucking into a ball, I realized I was just in my underwear and bra. Unidentified bruises and stains covered my limbs, and my feet looked almost black with dirt.
What the hell happened?
The night before was almost a complete blur. The event was spotty, and the club felt more like wisps of a dream I couldn’t recall but still could sense on me like a vibration.
Guilt. Excitement. Joy. Desire. Shame.
Groaning, I rolled up slowly, trying to keep my brain from falling out of my head or busting my eyeballs out. I had been hungover several times, but this was different. Between the alcohol and the happy pill, I was in full crash mode, my body rejecting and craving more of each.
Wobbly, I made it to my shower, wondering who put me to bed. I had an inkling of getting into an SUV at the club, but that was it. The ride home, getting to my room, or undressing—I recalled none of it.
Letting the water fall over my face and massage my head, I felt only a smidgen better when I got out, dressing in comfortable clothes.
I didn’t want to do one etiquette lesson, one interview, or one event. Today was mine to recover like a normal nineteen-year-old.
I was longing to go see Landen and Mina and, if not, then horseback riding. To feel the breeze on my face, the quiet of the woods. Everything else could wait. Today I was putting my foot down.
My cell was plugged on the nightstand. I grabbed it, scrolling through the hundreds of texts, voicemails, emails, and notices from social media inundating my mobile.
Theo’s missed calls stabbed at me the most, twisting guilt I didn’t understand deep into my chest. I needed to go see him, feel his kiss, his arms and smile assuring me everything would be okay.
Lost in thought, I opened my door. The sound of movement across from me flicked up my head, stopping me dead in my tracks.
Hazel crept out of the room across from mine, wearing the dress she had on the night before, a men’s black T-shirt over it; her cell, bra, and knickers wadded up in one hand. She was completely disheveled. Her hair was mussed, her eyeliner smeared, her lips puffy, her cheeks ruddy.
She looked like she had been thoroughly fucked.
“Oh, bugger!” she hissed, jumping when she spotted me. “You scared the crap out of me.”
My mouth wouldn’t open; I couldn’t speak. My focus went past her into the dark room, to a sleeping figure stretched out on the bed, his back to me, the sheets in a puddle on the floor, leaving him completely on display.
Lennox.
I was unable to stop my greedy gaze from rolling over his entire naked form.
Taut. Muscular. The curves of his firm bare arse hitched my breath.
Tattoos I hadn’t known about coiled over one cheek and up his side, making my tongue itch to investigate each line.
He stirred, his shoulder blades and arse flexing, every inch of his backside on exhibit, setting fire in my veins.
My core pulsed, the need to trace my fingers over him, to feel him everywhere, sparked a memory from the night before—or maybe it was a dream—the craving washing over me like a tsunami. But as quickly it came, the opposite flooded in, drowning me in shame, disgust, and anger.
At myself. At Hazel.
At Lennox.
“I was hoping to sneak out without Theo, the king, or queen seeing me.” Hazel closed the door, cutting my attention back to her.
“Could you imagine the humiliation of being caught doing the walk of shame, especially by Catherine?” Hazel rubbed her head with her free hand.
“She would not approve. But my lord, if she knew…” Hazel blew out, her expression turning dreamy.
“Had no idea he would be that incredible. My god… he… wow…” She fanned her flaming cheeks.
“Like he was on a mission… had something to prove. He was by far the best. Better than I ever imagined. And I have a very detailed imagination.”
I blinked.
“Well, I’m going to slink out the servants’ quarters.
” She motioned down the hall. I forgot she probably knew this place better than I did, practically growing up here.
“I had fun last night. We should do it again soon.” I’ll bet you did.
“Oh, and tell Theo thanks for letting me borrow his car.” She winked.
“Probably won’t even notice. Not like he drives it anymore. ”
Blink.
“See you later, Spence.” Hazel squeezed my arm before rushing out, leaving me standing in the same exact spot.
I knew I had no right to be mad. She was a lovely person who had full rights to sleep with whomever she wanted. As he did. But no matter what I said to myself, fury and misery weighed my stomach down like cement, pressing down the guilt already sitting on my chest.
The three made for a deadly cocktail of anger.
I knew my temper, the fire simmering in me, moved my feet for the exit, winding and zigzagging around staff decorating the palace for the holidays.
The season usually brought joy to my smile, but right now I wanted to stuff a silver ball up someone’s arse.
For the safety of all, I needed a moment to regroup.
Slipping by the breakfast room, I heard Theo and Alexander talking, only creating more of an urge to escape.
I was in no mood to curtsy, be civil, or fake pleasantries.
Pushing through the door into the garden, the cold morning fog slapped my skin, the dew lashing at my lungs, aching as they pumped for air. It felt good, the pain, waking me up and dampening my heated fury.
I wrapped my arms around myself, rubbing them through my thin sweater, sucking in slow gulps of air. I traveled deeper into the area, heading for my secret place near the pond.
What is wrong with you? Why do you care about Hazel sleeping with Lennox?
I berated myself more than asked because I could feel it bubbling under all the layers and excuses.
I loved Theo; that was not the question.
But the very unwanted prickling inside—the tightening in my gut—suggested a notion I didn’t even want to contemplate.
It was perfectly normal to feel something for a person who protected you, right? Lennox was with me more than Theo was. It was just misplaced feelings…
“I said leave!” A woman’s voice hissed through the thick mist, jerking my head out of my recollection, darting my gaze through the dense fog for the owner. “I have no idea what made you think this was a good idea.”
“Please…” a man’s voice begged, a touch of wildness in it.
Both were low, but they struck something in me, creeping me closer to them.
“No. I think I have tolerated enough of your impropriety and misgivings about your privilege in even coming here.” Formal. The pinnacle of society and upper crust. The voice you heard on TV as she waved to the crowd of admirers.
Eloise.
I slunk behind a tree, curving around to see her, the man’s back to me, slightly hidden by the atrium they were next to. My gut seemed to pick on the familiarity of his form, but my mind was moving a lot slower.
Her expression was fixed with a leveled disdain only a princess could do effortlessly. She was dressed casually in torn jeans and a long sweater coat with heeled boots, her damp hair wrapped up in a bun. It didn’t matter what she wore; she was every bit the princess right now.
“You need to leave. Now.” She went to step past him.
His hand jetted out, grabbing her wrist. “Princess, please.” The move forced his face to curve to me.
My world froze.
My head shook, like what I saw was a lie. My hangover and shock of seeing Hazel had broken my brain, but no matter how much I wished it, there was no denying who stood there.
My uncle.
Fredrick was dressed in his usual trousers, collared shirt, sweater vest, and tweed jacket like he had just come from a shooting party set in the Edwardian times. But dark circles lined his eyes. His body tense, his expression twisted with weariness and panic.
What the hell was he doing here? What was going on? Instead of moving, my limbs were rooted in place, watching in disbelief.
Eloise glared at his fingers. “Do not ever touch me again.”
“I’m sorry… I’m sorry.” He yanked his hand back, his head bowing. “Please. I beg you. That was the last bit of it. I was told he was a sure thing.”
He rubbed at his head; his normally formidable stature curled over in despair. I had never seen my uncle show an ounce of weakness or plead with anyone. Ever.
He was ruthless with business, cruel with his love, and firm with his words. Stiff upper lip and proud of it. To see him curling over, begging…
“That is not my problem,” Eloise replied, her head wagging. “You know the rules. You gambled it all away. That is on you. Not me.”
“Your Highness,” he pleaded, the desperation making his voice go high. “You can help us. I know you can. My niece will be a royal. Your sister-in-law. We’ll be family. Do you want this shame on her and your name?”
Eloise’s sucked in, her head lifting. “The only reason you are standing here right now is because of Spencer. I gave you a few moments, which I would never have done for anyone else. You are never to contact me. Never even act like you know me. That was the deal. If this ever got out…” She waggled her head, anger straining her features.
“I warned you, but you just couldn’t stop.
Your ego, arrogance, greed, and need to be someone just cost not just yourself, but your family, everything.
Your choices are on you. I’m sorry, I really am.
But it really is out of my hands.” She started to walk again.