32. “So Long, London” - Taylor Swift
“So Long, London” - Taylor Swift
Inotice two things when I wake up. First, the bed beside me is still glaringly empty.
I’m pretty sure I would have woken up had Henry come in during the night, but the fact that he’s still gone makes me irrationally irritated.
The second thing is that my phone is ringing relentlessly beside me on the nightstand.
Assuming it’s Henry, calling to tell me he’s on his way, I answer it without checking the screen. Instead of Henry’s voice, I hear Maisie let out a garbled screech on the other end.
“Good morning to you, too,” I say groggily, sitting up. “You’re going to have to repeat that.”
“I found something!” she says again.
“God, Maisie. What time is it?” I attempt to rub the sleep from my eyes.
“Who cares? I found something huge. You are going to want to see this right away. I stayed up until early this morning, and—”
“Seriously? I’m not sure it was that important.”
“Oh, it was. Trust me. This is way bigger than we initially thought.”
I’ll admit she has my curiosity piqued, but I’m not ready to face whatever intel she has gained without some caffeine first. “Give me about twenty minutes to get up, then I want to hear all about it.” I swing my legs to the floor and stand up, stretching the kinks from my back.
“I’ll be at your door in exactly twenty, so you’d better be ready,” she says before ringing off.
I roll my eyes and toss my phone onto the bed. She probably discovered that William has a sheep farm and keeps them on property that belongs to the Royal Estate. I stumble to the en suite kitchen, hoping our private butler has already brewed a pot of coffee.
He has, bless the man, and after grabbing a cup, I return to the main living room. In the center of the coffee table, there’s a giant bouquet of white hydrangeas. I slip the card out and flip it over to read the message.
I’m so sorry, babe. I’ll be back soon. xx H
I stifle a groan. He’s already regurgitating phrases, and we’re not even to the possibly-having-an-affair stage of the relationship.
I’m still annoyed, but the flowers are a nice touch. At least he didn’t forget about me in the midst of his important business dealings. I take a quick shower and do the best I can with my hair. I’ll have Daphne arrange it later, after I relieve Maisie’s blood pressure.
I’m honestly surprised she isn’t already banging down the door. I glance at the time on my phone. Our call ended twenty-two minutes ago, but she must have underestimated the amount of time it takes to get from her suite to mine.
While I’m waiting for her, I order eggs Benedict and fruit for breakfast. I’m starving after skipping dinner last night. Fifteen minutes later, the knock on the door isn’t Maisie; it’s my food.
It’s not like her to be late. I press the button to call her while spearing a strawberry with my fork. It rings half a dozen times before her voicemail message kicks in. Maybe she left her phone in her room. But why isn’t she here yet?
I’ll give her a bit more time. She may have gotten caught up on her way up here. Or fallen asleep in the elevator due to her late night. I can have Roberts send someone on his team to check on her if she’s not here soon.
Twenty minutes later, I’ve finished my breakfast, and Maisie still hasn’t shown. Now I’m getting worried. I’ve called her twice more, but she’s still not picking up. Henry also hasn’t shown his face or called, but that’s starting to feel like old news.
I open the door into the foyer, which immediately grabs the attention of the handful of PPOs standing out there.
They all bow when they spot me. I smile and nod.
“Good morning,” I say, turning to Roberts.
“I’m a bit worried about my assistant. She said she would be here nearly an hour ago, but I can’t get ahold of her. ”
He gives me a stiff nod. “We’ll check it out. What room is she in?”
I tell him Maisie’s room number, and several PPOs head for the elevator. A tingle of apprehension shoots through my veins. Roberts must sense my distress, because he places a hand on my elbow. “Can I get you anything, Your Majesty? A cup of tea maybe? Or help you to the sofa?”
I shake my head, then change my mind. “Actually, that sounds great,” I say, allowing him to lead me back to the living room. “You haven’t heard from Henry, have you?”
His face remains emotionless as he says, “Not since he left England, no.”
I twist sideways so quickly my elbow falls from his hand. “He left England?”
Small furrows form on his brow. “I assumed he told you.”
“I had no idea,” I say through my teeth.
“He had some business back in Wesbourne, he said. He left yesterday morning.”
“Yesterday morning?” It’s taking all of my self-control to keep from shrieking. “Did he say when he’d be back?”
“Not to me, ma’am, but I was under the impression he didn’t plan to be gone long.”
Roberts ushers me to the sofa, and I sit, but my mind is whirling.
If Henry left England yesterday morning, he had to have known he’d never make it back in time for dinner.
A flight home would take no less than six hours.
There’s no way he could have done back-to-back flights in the same day and still made it in time.
This whole thing feels eerily familiar. I’m starting to wonder if he was planning to leave me here the whole time. Get Celia to London, where we can barricade her inside a hotel so she stays out of the way. How could I have been such a fool?
But until I hear the words from Henry, I have to assume the best: That he never intended to be gone so long. That he does love me.
Roberts comes back a few minutes later to say that they weren’t able to locate Maisie and to ask if I want him to contact the local authorities. I tell him to wait while I call her one last time. She doesn’t pick up, but a few seconds after I disconnect the call, my phone pings with a text message.
Maisie: Eloping with Beck. Sorry for not telling you sooner. xx
Only one thing comes to mind as I read her words: What the actual fuck?
She and Beck are eloping? It sounds like the most un-Beck-like thing to do ever.
It takes the man ten minutes just to choose a pair of socks to wear.
Eloping would be comparable to bypass surgery for him.
And what about Maisie? She isn’t the girliest girl in the world, but she definitely wants a big poofy dress and cake.
Maybe I don’t know people as well as I thought I did.
“Ma’am?”
I startle and see that Roberts is still waiting for my answer. “Sorry,” I say, running my fingers across my forehead. “Maisie just texted me. She’s fine. She left and forgot to tell me, I guess.”
Roberts gives me a quick bow and heads back to the foyer.
I slump into the sofa cushions. She could have at least told me what she discovered before jettisoning off to get married, for crying out loud.
She could have at least invited me to said wedding, but we both know watching Beck stand up and vow to love another woman for the rest of his life isn’t exactly how I’d prefer to spend my day.
To fill my time while I wait for Henry to return and tell me what the heck is going on, I turn on the news.
It seems the only thing newsworthy to have happened in Wesbourne in the past two days is her queen fleeing the country.
Even the real news outlets are showing screenshots from the gossip sites and forums, mostly of people speculating that it’s either a big conspiracy of some sort, or that I’m the world’s biggest coward and left because I know something they don’t.
Is this really what they think of me? That I would desert them if the worst came?
I gave up everything to become their queen, to save our country from destroying itself.
Do they think that was easy, or that I want to live a life in the spotlight, where everyone criticizes every single thing I do—including how often I wear the same pair of shoes?
They can hate me all they want, but I can’t let them believe I would leave them to fend for themselves.
I took an oath to serve my country to the best of my ability, and that includes boosting public morale.
If I need to put myself in danger to show them I am on their side, that’s what I’m going to do.
I step back into the foyer. If Roberts is surprised to see me again, he doesn’t show it. He has been trained in military-grade emotional repression, a course I wouldn’t mind taking myself.
“Can I speak to you?” I ask.
He nods and follows me into the living room, shutting the door behind him.
“I need to get back to Wesbourne,” I say. “It’s important.” He opens his mouth, probably to parrot back some robotic response about the danger of leaving, but I stop him. “As queen, it is my job to be there for my people. I can’t hide out in a hotel in London like funds in a foreign bank account.”
His voice comes out gruff. “I’m afraid my orders are to keep you here under any circumstance.”
I’d like to kill Henry’s orders. “I understand, but as your queen I’m asking you to go against those orders and take me home. My people need me.”
He frowns, and I can see the dilemma in his eyes. I wonder if he’s thinking about the way Davies lost his job for breaking orders to help me. I can’t assure him it won’t happen to him as well, but Henry will have a whole lot more to deal with from me if he tries.
“I would like to clear it with Lord Henry first, if it’s all the same to you, ma’am.”
I nod. “Be my guest.” And good luck getting ahold of him.
Roberts holds the phone to his ear for a minute, then lowers it without speaking. “He’s not answering.”
“He’s too busy to worry about this right now,” I say. “I’m fully confident you can get me back to Wesbourne safely. Henry is too, or he wouldn’t have left you in charge.”
He grunts softly in response. “I don’t know, ma’am.”
“I will handle Henry, if that’s what you’re worried about. The palace is finally secured anyway. You can take me there, and it will be safer than the Lanesborough.”
Roberts focuses on a spot on the wall, still frowning. “I don’t like it, but I don’t think I can say no to my queen.”
Relief courses through me. “A very insightful thought,” I say, allowing just a trickle of humor into my voice.
He looks down at me, not finding this funny at all. “We’ll have to charter another plane.”