20. “My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys” - Taylor Swift
“My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys” - Taylor Swift
The penthouse is empty now that Bea has moved to the Carlton.
The next morning, I make myself a cup of jasmine tea and let the hot ceramic warm my fingers.
The days are getting colder, and I vaguely recall the meteorologist mentioning a chance of snow this weekend.
It would be amazing if we got a white Christmas.
I should keep puzzling my way through the financial documents, but I’m afraid if I look at another column of figures, my brain will revolt indefinitely. I decide to browse the small library instead in the hopes I’ll find something interesting to read.
I’ve come to think of the room as my own, since I’ve yet to see anyone else using it.
It’s the perfect size for one person and much cozier than the great room.
I even asked Roberts to get a small Balsam pine to put in the corner.
I don’t have any ornaments for it yet, mostly because I’d normally ask Maisie to bring some from the palace, and the two of us aren’t saying more than necessary to each other these days.
Despite the fact that I notice the strip of light under the door, I’m not expecting to find anyone inside, least of all Henry. When I enter, he looks up and smiles—just a genuinely happy smile like he’s pleased to see me, and not one of the myriad others that can mean so many different things.
“I’m sorry,” I say, my hand still on the doorknob. “I didn’t realize anyone was in here.”
He straightens, and I can see that he was bent over what appear to be documents, which cover every available surface, including the chairs. “Don’t apologize. Come in.”
I glance around the room, which now feels the size of a coat closet thanks to Henry’s giant presence. “It’s okay. I was just going to read.” I start to back into the hallway.
“Celia, wait.” He moves to the door before I can close it and grasps the knob.
I look up at him, his face only inches away. My heart feels like it’s participating in a race at Royal Ascot. My swallow is loud, and I hope he doesn’t hear it.
Henry’s eyes flicker over my face. “Please stay,” he says. “I want to show you something.”
I couldn’t leave if I wanted to. His magnetic field has complete control over mine.
Following him into the room, I point to the papers strewn around as if a tornado just blew through. “Let me guess. You have something against Marie Kondo?”
He gives me an amused smirk and pushes a few of them aside until he gets to the bottom of the pile. “I know you said you don’t think it’s a good idea, but just hear me out.”
I study the page in front of me, and it takes a minute before I realize I’m staring at a blueprint for the main wing of the palace. “I don’t understand. What is all of this?”
He digs another paper from the stack and hands it to me. It’s a mockup of an art gallery. Before I can ask, he hands me another page, this one full of figures. My brain immediately starts to spin.
I hand it back. “I’m sorry. I’ve been looking at numbers all afternoon. You’re going to have to interpret this for me.”
“Okay, take a seat.” He clears one of the armchairs.
I sit down and watch him bring some semblance of order to the chaos. He has a weird energy buzzing through him, and after he straightens the same stack twice, I realize he’s nervous. “Henry, what is it?”
He looks over at me and blows out a breath. “I wasn’t planning to show these to you yet, but Davies needed to use my office. Promise you’ll keep an open mind?”
My heart is still zipping around the racetrack, especially looking at Henry in that white shirt. It’s straining over his arms, and several of the top buttons are undone, as if he got restless and a little warm while working. There’s something about a man so casually—
“Are you done undressing me with your eyes yet?”
My gaze snaps up from that triangle of bare chest to meet his smirk.
“Don’t worry,” he says conspiratorially, “I’ve done it to you plenty of times.”
My face is officially on fire. “What did you want to show me?” The faster I can get out of here, the better.
He leans back against the table and kicks his feet out in front of him, crossing them at the ankles. It does not help my war with my wandering eyes, only makes them aware of my direct line of sight being his—
“I know the financial issues with the royal household are eating at you, so I’ve taken some liberties.”
I open my mouth to object, but he holds up his hand. “You don’t have to agree to any of this, but please, at the very least, listen.”
I was on the verge of giving him a second chance to explain his ideas before catching him with Bea. Now that I know nothing happened between them, the least I can do is hear him out. I nod and smooth my dress over my legs. “Okay, I’m listening.”
“You said that opening the palace to the public would be commercializing the royal family. But I propose that maybe that’s exactly what Wesbourne needs.”
I frown but don’t say anything. I still have veto power.
“The royal family, specifically the monarch, is the personification of her country to the rest of the world. Her job—your job—is to satisfy the emotional needs of the people of Wesbourne. What better way to earn their respect and win their adoration than by sharing something with them that only the luckiest have gotten to enjoy so far?”
I ponder this for a minute or two. I’ve always thought of the monarch as the ruler of a country, but since ascending to the throne myself, I’ve realized just how little power a queen really has.
I’m meant to inspire greatness in my people, encourage them through difficult times, and provide a moral compass for them—something to aspire to. So far, I’ve done none of this.
“Go on,” I say.
Henry grins, and I see the little boy he used to be in that face.
He pulls the palace blueprint back out of the stack.
“With a few small changes, we could open the main wing of the palace to the public for guided tours. Making twenty staterooms and the gardens accessible would allow for a comprehensive tour that wouldn’t invade your privacy.
I estimate this alone would cover 30 percent of the household budget. ”
My eyes widen. “There’s no way.”
“Unless my numbers are completely off”—he cuts me a glance—“which they’re not, it’s very possible. People want to see how royals live. It’s a fact of life. They’re intrigued by what they don’t have. It would also help exponentially with tourism for the country as a whole.”
“It sounds . . . intriguing. What else do you have?”
He pulls out the mockup. “We turn part of the east wing into an art gallery. The palace has enough art to keep it stocked as well as host a rotating collection in a separate room. We could also invite local artists to display their work, giving them exposure and boosting the economy at the same time.”
“Those pieces are valuable, Henry. What about damages? Or theft?”
“We’d have top-notch security. It’s a lot harder to steal art than it looks in the movies.”
I bite my lower lip. “I don’t know. Those pieces were entrusted to the royal family for safekeeping.”
“Come on, C. Don’t you want to share all of that beauty with the world?”
Henry’s right, of course. Keeping priceless art locked up to be enjoyed by only a handful of people is selfish.
“I’ll consider it. Was that all?”
A huge grin splits his face. “I’m just getting started. Did you know there are roughly thirty-six thousand acres of farmland in the Royal Estate, most of which isn’t being cultivated or put to use?”
“You’re kidding.” I haven’t gotten to those records yet.
He shakes his head and continues. “I propose we turn some of it into organic farms for produce. Some can be converted into grazing pastures for grass-fed cattle, sheep, goats, poultry, and pork. The land least suitable for farming can be converted to nature preserves that provide habitats for wildlife. In five to ten years, we should be able to create a wildlife park that celebrates the beauty of Wesbourne’s rarest creatures. ”
“I love it,” I say, a little breathless imagining it all.
I can see the surprise in his eyes as he glances up from the pages in his hands. “You do?”
“Absolutely.”
“In that case, I’ve got more.” He pulls another paper out.
“Nearly 80 percent of Wesbourne’s seabed belongs to the Royal Estate.
For years, we’ve been asked to sell the mineral rights to it, and it’s always been denied.
Selling those rights on an annual renewal would cover 10 percent of the budget. ”
“You’re serious?” At his nod, I say, “I want to hear more before deciding, but it sounds great. I’m worried, though, that most of these things would only add to our expenses rather than our income. That’s a lot of staff we’d be adding, not to mention renovations.”
“I’m guessing there isn’t the greatest efficiency at the palace at the moment.
By bringing in a few experts, we should be able to free up 20 to 25 percent of the staff, allowing them to move to other positions such as tour guides and museum security.
As far as the renovations go, the palace is already undergoing massive reconstruction for security reasons.
Adding in a few more things shouldn’t impact the budget or the time frame much. ”
I stare at him in amazement. “You’ve thought of everything.”
He offers me a small smile. “I tried.”
I take a sip of tea before setting the cup aside and getting to my feet. I need to study these plans a little closer, so I move toward the table and the massive amount of papers strewn across it. “This is what you’ve been working on?”
I knew Henry was preoccupied with a project, but I just assumed it was renovations at the palace or something with one of his own businesses.
He doesn’t shift away when I reach around him for the gallery mock-up, making me graze his body with my chest. My nipples harden at the contact.
“It’s still pretty rough,” he says.